EPILOGUE #3
Corric watched them with a blank expression.
There was joy in his eyes, but behind that a layer of bitterness he wished he could do away with.
As Ridan met his eyes, he smiled in understanding.
As happy as he was for his packmate, he couldn’t help but think of his empty womb and how it refused to quicken.
“What will you name him?” Sehleh asked softly, her eyes wet with tears and her comforting scent heavy.
“Tarro,” Brune answered, his eyes trained on his pup.
As they looked down at their new son, it felt surreal.
Ridan couldn’t help but bite back tears.
It was like meeting an old friend, someone he knew so intimately and yet didn’t know at all.
All those months inside him, growing and gaining strength, and now he was here. In Ridan’s arms. Living and breathing.
He felt his heart melt until another bout of wrenching pain tore through him. Doubling over into his nest, he cried out. Corric jumped forward, taking Tarro from Ridan’s arms before he dropped him. The pup cried at suddenly being jerked from the warmth of familiar scents.
Brune instinctively held Ridan, nails digging into the skin of his arms as he bore down again.
“Well, well,” Iylah said shrewdly, the only calm person in the tent. “I should have known you would make things difficult.”
Ridan and Brune’s second son came hurtling into the world much the same as their first. As unexpected as he was, he was still a robust and healthy pup with lungs equal to his brother.
“Twin alphas,” Iylah had announced, arms crossed as she looked down at the resting family.
On fresh furs, Ridan held each son to his chest, head lolled back as he slept against his mate.
Brune was awake, his eyes bright as he periodically got up to scent the tent and prowl around the perimeter.
The only thing keeping his alpha in check was the knowledge that his packmate was outside guarding the entrance.
Corric was silent as Sehleh happily shared memories from Ridan’s puphood and how she was going to have to weave more clothes for the pups.
With Oldsun blood in their veins, Tarro and Aeson were hellions from the start. As all twins were, they were inseparable. When one was hungry, so was the other. They ran their parents ragged.
When it came time to introduce them to the clan, all of the Stone Blade gathered around to meet them.
Brune held Aeson while Ridan held Tarro as they moved among their people.
Any birth was celebrated in the clans, but especially twins.
They were considered lucky souls who had found their mirror.
Twice as strong and destined for greatness.
The other clans journeyed to the Stone Blade to celebrate the twins’ birth and to continue talks for their continuing peace.
Ridan would have rather kept his pup’s birth quiet, but Gustall had pointed out that politically, it was important for the clans to know Ridan had heirs on the ground.
As much as Ridan loathed it, Gustall was right, and so he tolerated their presence.
Before their meeting, Brune found Ridan staring down at himself as he dressed.
It had been several weeks since the birth, and he was feeling more himself, but his body was littered with the evidence of his pregnancy.
Stretch marks, dark and plentiful, scattered across his previously taut stomach. Ridan scowled as he poked at them.
Brune wrapped his arms around his mate, nuzzling into his neck. “They’re nothing to be ashamed of,” he told his mate, rumbling deep in his chest. “Like the scars of battle, they’re proof of your victory.”
With his confidence restored, Ridan strode in to meet his fellow chiefs with his chin up and shoulders back, stretch marks on display.
He accepted their gifts—fishing hooks from the Steel Jaw, a parcel of gems from the Strong Leg, and fine metal to be fashioned into blades from the Windy Cliff.
He told them all that his pups were fortunate to start their lives with such fine gifts.
But really, he knew his pups were fortunate for many reasons. Not the least of which was their sire. Every day Ridan got to watch not just his pups grow, but his mate turn into the alpha, the father, he always knew he could be.
During the dead of summer, when even the nights were sweltering, Ridan tried to inch away from the furnaces that were his family.
Aeson was sprawled out, legs across Brune and elbow in Ridan’s ribs while Tarro was face first into his dama’s armpit, little hands hooked into the thin linen shirt Ridan was sleeping in.
Sweat prickled at his temples and no matter which way he tossed and turned, either his pup or mate found their way to him, plastering him with their warm bodies.
He sighed, reminding himself how much he truly loved his children as he settled back into the nest. It was easier to share when they were smaller.
As newborns they hardly moved, sleeping where their parents lay them.
Now, they were wriggling monsters. Once, Aeson ended up upside down with his brother’s foot in his mouth.
Ridan was just grateful they didn’t have his teeth yet.
Already the boys had outgrown all their clothes, Sehleh having to let seams out almost every week. Tufts of dark blonde hair were erupting on their heads, and their eyes were beginning to change from pup blue to something darker. It was hard to believe they once fit inside Ridan’s stomach.
Just when he was about to give up on sleep, the tent flap opened. Ridan and Brune jerked up, fangs dropping and hands grabbing for weapons. When Jonen’s black tea scent hit their nose, they settled. Brune snarled, still half asleep.
Jonen was bare chested and sweaty, curls plastered to his forehead. Despite the heat, his face was pale, eyes wide. He stunk of panic.
“Ridan,” his voice cracked as he wrung his hands. “It’s Corric he…” he didn’t seem able to finish.
He didn’t need to. Ridan already knew.
Untangling himself from his sons, he shared a glance with Brune. “Let me know if you need me.” Brune was pack, but he was an alpha. Corric wouldn’t want him around. He stayed behind, dragging both boys close so he could curl around his pups protectively.
Even if Ridan didn’t know the way to Corric and Jonen’s tent, he could have followed the acrid scent of despair. It set his omega on edge, teeth grit to keep from chattering in his mouth as he drew closer.
Several curious clan members stuck their heads out of flaps already open for airflow. When they smelled Corric’s scent and saw the look on Ridan’s face, they quickly closed them. The stifling heat was a better alternative.
Ridan left Jonen behind, shouldering through the closed flap of their tent. As soon as he stepped in, he could smell the stale scent of anguish. It was nauseating. His knees locked, body refusing to budge.
It was only when he saw Corric, blank faced and huddled in his nest, that he pushed through. He stepped over the icy floor to get to Corric’s side, shoving bloodied blankets out of the way so he could pull Corric to his chest.
The moment he touched Ridan, he wailed, arms limp at his sides as thick tears soaked through Ridan’s shirt.
“Why?” he sobbed, voice hitching.
Ridan couldn’t answer. He rubbed Corric’s back and tried not to look at the blood all over his packmate's legs. Corric’s shoulders shook as he cried, arms finally lifting to grab at Ridan. His blunt nails dragged across his skin.
“Corric,” Ridan sighed softly, nuzzling into his sweaty hair.
“It’s my fault,” he began again, breathing shallowly. “It’s this damn magic!” he shouted, more ice shooting from his fingers to crawl up the wall of the tent. It brought a pleasant reprieve from the heat.
“It’s not your fault,” Ridan said, the words feeling stale in his mouth.
“Then whose fault is it?” Corric demanded, turning his red eyes to Ridan. “It isn’t Jonen’s! He’s a good alpha. He’s a good alpha who has a broken omega.”
They’d had this conversation before. And like the last time Corric lost a pup, Ridan didn’t know what to say. Even if he did, how would it sound? Ridan had a healthy pregnancy with two healthy pups. Anything coming out of his mouth would be disingenuous.
He settled himself by pulling Corric into him, scenting him as heavily as he could as he stroked down his neck. They sat like that for a long time. Until Corric’s rage bled out to the numb horror he had grown familiar with.
“Jonen is worried,” Ridan said when Corric was quiet. “You should let him back in.”
Corric shook his head slowly. “I can’t. I don’t want to see the look in his eye when he realizes—”
“Realizes what?” Ridan cut him off. “That his omega is hurting? Corric, do you think so little of yourself that you’d mate with an alpha that would blame you for this?”
Jonen would never. Not only because that’s not the kind of man he was, but because he loved Corric. He loved him with all his stupid, curly headed heart. Pups or no pups.
“I’m broken.”
“You’re not,” Ridan huffed.
And it was true. Iylah had looked him over.
Halm had consulted her books. There was nothing wrong with either of them.
It was just one of those things no one could control.
Like the wind or the rain, beholden to nothing but the whims of the earth and sky.
There was nothing to fight against. No special tonic or potion to take.
“Is this my punishment for being a Tylock?” Corric asked listlessly, all emotion wrung from him.
“You’re not being punished,” Ridan said gruffly, unused to relying on his words.
His sword arm, yes. But his words? Those flimsy intangible things that slip so easily from parted lips, capable of doing more damage than even the sharpest blade.
Words have moved mountains and killed thousands.
Words have stopped wars and mended broken hearts.