Epilogue
Taroc Na Mor
“I thought your mother said it would be several hundred years before we received more eggs for the nursery?”
Taggart nuzzled the tender spot behind Hannah’s ear, smiling as the eternal mark naming her as his mate flared dark and proud.
The elaborate scrollwork almost glowed in the dim gloaming light right before sunrise.
He had pleased his dear one well. Her mark always flared when he took her to the deepest levels of bliss.
“What did ye say, my own? Your delicious taste distracted me from all else.”
As she stretched and curled tighter against him, she made her happy humming sound that meant he was forgiven.
“The new eggs. For the nursery. A full clutch.” She paused and released another purring sigh as he caressed her inner thigh and slowly worked his way higher.
“I thought centuries would pass before we had more hatchlings to watch over.”
“I believe it to be a bribe,” he rasped against the salty sweetness of her skin while slipping his fingers back inside the warm wetness he could never get enough of. “Mother wants grandchildren. She thinks another clutch of eggs might put us in the mood to become parents.”
She stilled beneath his touch, and he sensed he had foolishly fouled the possibility of continuing the day with another round of loving.
He eased back, giving her the space he sensed she needed and cursed himself for his witless tongue.
“I have lost ye, m’love. What did I say to end your wanting me? ”
“I will never not want you,” she whispered, staring up at him with concern puckering her brow. “But—do you want children?” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her expression almost sorrowful.
“Ye fear what our children will be,” he said quietly. He had carried the weight of that very question on his heart ever since returning from the dead.
“We live in a cold, cruel world. Even Erastaed is as divided as the human world. Remember how they treated you before they experienced Sloan’s cruelty?” She lovingly cupped a hand to his cheek. “I know we will always be here for our children. But will it be enough if they are born different?”
“They will be three quarters human and blessed with all the ancient magic we share.”
“But will that be enough when they are the only ones of their kind? Will they be lonely when they need more than just us?” She blew out a heavy sigh, pushed herself up, and leaned back against the headboard.
“They will be neither Draecna nor human.” She shrugged.
“And not like you either. What if they are unable to shift and are born into whatever form the DNA decides?”
“We will love them whatever their form and nurture them into strong, loving individuals.” But his tone lacked conviction, and he knew without looking that she felt the same. He gave a solemn nod. “Do ye want children? The risk? The possible heartache?”
“I want them happy. Loved. Never alone. And welcomed in worlds that revile anything different from the norm.”
“Every parent wants that, m’love.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, but her uneasiness revealed something more. He sensed it. “Ye are with child already.”
She stared straight ahead and swallowed hard. “Yes. We have a precious little seed growing.” Her eyes filled with tears and she caught hold of his hand. “I want this baby protected from all the meanness in the world. I can’t bear the thought of anyone being cruel to her or him.”
“Again, my own precious love, that is every parent’s wish.” His chest swelled with emotion as he gently pulled her into his arms. A child. Their child. His heart both soared and pounded with worry. No wonder she had been so distracted of late. “We will protect our children. I swear it.”
“Will I have a baby or give birth to an egg like a Draecna? You came from an egg.” Her pained expression made him wish he had all the answers.
“My father spelled his mystical DNA into a clutch of eggs he coerced my mother into laying for him. That is how he fertilized them. They had no relations. Only words of love, honor, and commitment that she meant, and he did not.”
She shook her head, both feathery brows arching higher. “That does not answer my question.”
Problem was, he had no idea. “I canna say, m’love, because I dinna ken.”
“Would your mother know?”
With the portal repaired and stable enough to transport eggs to the nursery, Taggart felt sure his mother would follow soon after.
In fact, he dreaded her arrival. It had been a very peaceful year and a half without her and Septamus constantly offering advice.
He would enjoy seeing Thaetus and William again, but Mother?
Especially with a child on the horizon? Merlin’s beard; she would be in rare form, indeed.
“I am sure once we tell her of the blessing, she will tell us all she knows.”
Hannah eased away from him, donned her wrap, and walked to the window.
He sensed there was more, but his dear one struggled to share it. “Tell me everything, m’love. Please. Let me in so I might help ye bear the weight of whatever troubles ye.”
“This is not our first baby,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear.
He joined her at the window so as not to miss a word. Gently, he turned her toward him. “What?”
With eyes downcast, she seemed more sad than he had seen her since returning from the dead. “There were two more,” she whispered.
“Two?”
She nodded. “I lost the first one right after you came back.” She wet her lips and turned aside to stare out the window.
“I didn’t want to—to trouble you about it.
So, I passed it off as a bout of the flu.
” She twitched a shrug. “I figured I miscarried because of all that happened. All the stress of the war and your death. And that the next time would be fine.” She squinched her eyes shut and her face crumpled.
Huge tears squeezed out and rolled down her cheeks.
“But then it happened again. Early on. Earlier than this one. I suspected I was pregnant. Then it was just gone. The doctor confirmed it.” She bowed her head.
“I hid that one from you, too. I was so ashamed,” she whispered.
She covered her stomach with both hands.
“But I can’t keep going through it alone.
” She gave him a smile that tore his heart in two.
“I am so afraid I am going to lose this one, too.”
What could he say? Perhaps, because of his genetic makeup, they were destined to be childless. “How far along is this one, my precious love?” He eased an arm around her. She had to know she was loved no matter what. This was not her fault.
“Five weeks longer than the last one,” she said. “And it feels—different.”
“Different how?”
She looked up at him; her face brightening with love and hope. “Stronger.” After a faint shrug, she added, “At least, I hope so.”
He rested a hand on her still flat stomach and eased her into a tender embrace. “I shall send for Mother immediately. She can help us know what to do to bring our wee one into this world.”
With a flash like a lightbulb flicking on, Hannah realized her worries seemed somehow less whenever she spent time in the nursery.
Whether it was because of the soft strains of classical musical or the comforting fragrance of the moon orchids, she had no idea.
Maybe it was just because the room had always possessed the promise of life and new beginnings.
New beginnings. She pressed a hand to her stomach, praying this most recent new beginning survived.
“Hannah?”
She lifted her gaze from the empty egg pedestal. Taggart stood just inside the entrance, concern tensing his features. “I am fine.” She made her way to him, took his hand, and pulled him deeper into the room. “I was just realizing that I felt less stressed down here.”
He tipped her face up to his. “I was worried. I dinna like that ye shielded me from your suffering before. Swear ye willna do that again. Not about anything.” He brushed the softest of kisses across her mouth. “We share every burden, ye ken?”
Before she could answer, a gentle breeze fluttered around them and twenty-one shining eggs shimmered into view, floating downward and settling into their indentations in the pedestal.
The sight thrilled her. Filled her with joy.
One by one, she gave them each a loving caress, smiling as the life within lit them with a welcoming flicker in response to her touch. “They are so beautiful.”
“Indeed, they are, my beloved daughter.”
Hannah turned. The Goddess Isla stood beside Taggart. As did Septamus, Thaetus, and her sweet William. “William!” She rushed to give him a hug. “Look how you have grown.”
The fully matured Draecna, muscular and rugged as any, gave her a sheepish smile. “Thank you, Mother. I missed you, too.”
“I knew she would go to him first,” Septamus grumbled.
“Ye still owe me a cask of whisky,” Thaetus replied. “A bet is a bet.”
“I am glad to see all of you.” She gave them each a hug then grasped Isla’s fore claws and held them tight. With a wistful glance into her wise mother-in-law’s great golden eyes, she shook her head. “I guess Esme is still angry with me?”
“I am not, my Guardian,” came a familiar voice from the other side of the nursery. “I was merely unsure if you wished to see me, so I cloaked myself from your eyes.”
Hannah’s heart swelled. Much to Esme’s dismay, she rushed to gather her into a tight hug. “I always want to see you, Esme. You are my family, too.”
Esme bowed her shimmering head. “That pleases me.”
“And it is my understanding, this family is growing?” Isla asked.
A sudden nervousness made Hannah’s stomach slosh. She swallowed hard against a wave of nausea.
“My love?” Taggart rushed to her side, swept her up into his arms, and cradled her like a babe.
She patted his chest. “If you do that every time I feel nauseous, you risk getting thrown up on.”