Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
brIGID
Iwoke frowning, squinting at the bright light glaring down at me for a moment, groaning as I tried to move from the hard ground, and then paused as I recalled where I was and why.
Outside, napping in the sunshine underneath an umbrella for shade.
I closed my eyes once more, lifting my chin and letting the light summer breeze coast down the hill and over where I lay.
Torion had been the one to insist that even if I were set on working outside in the garden, there was always somewhere for me to take my rest if I wanted it.
I'd stubbornly insisted the idea was foolish and then cheerfully enjoyed the accommodations every day since.
I propped myself up on one hand, the other falling to my stomach unconsciously as a funny fluttering and popping sensation simmered there.
My brow furrowed, eyes skipping over to the basket of fruit preserves and bread I'd brought out with me.
It was well past the time I should've experienced nausea, but this was different, not unpleasant but foreign, and—
Heat bloomed in my chest, and a soothing brush blanked my thoughts as it struck me.
The quickening—the movement of life inside of me.
My child.
My eyes fell closed as tears welled there, my throat tightening.
Fire burned in my chest, but it was a soothing warmth, rushing through my veins, protective even.
My dragon and my child. I didn't care if I never had wings, and I didn't want to transform into a dragon at this moment, but I was grateful for the reassurance, the gentle blanket that swooped over me as the growing babe announced itself with faint taps and bubbles.
Sun shone red through my eyelids, and dragon fire shimmered in my heart.
The activity of the keep was a gentle murmur around me, familiar voices calling to one another.
I was here in the safety of this place, alone with my child.
And my dragon, quiet and watchful as she seemed to be, hidden away inside of me, would assure that I would survive, and the babe would survive.
On a sunny hill in an herb garden, tucked under an umbrella, I knew for the first time in years that I was safe.
"Brigid? You're crying."
I opened my eyes, and my smile beamed up at Torion. I wondered if maybe our bond had drawn him to me when I'd felt the first movement, or if he was just following the magnet that always seemed to draw us together.
"I felt the baby move," I said, grinning.
Torion's eyes widened, and he fell to my side on the blanket, one hand automatically reaching out and then pausing to hover over my waist. I took it and pressed it over where I'd felt movement.
"You won't be able to feel anything yet," I said, leaning into his side.
"I know…I know, I just…" Torion shifted closer and then wrapped his other arm around me, pulling me to rest against his chest. "I didn't realize how much joy I could feel."
I stretched up, and his head bowed to meet mine, our lips joining softly, holding the kiss for long breaths.
I didn't realize how easy you would make it to feel safe with you. To trust you, I thought, but didn't say. Instead, I rested there, held and loved by my alpha.
I'd written to Catherine Eames after the accounting feast, plain words seeking advice on childbearing, and she'd agreed to visit readily enough.
Upon first glance, the older woman was exactly what I'd been led to believe a grandmother ought to look like.
My own personal experience of a grandmother had been my father's mother, a nervous woman who'd never seemed very comfortable with me in her home, but I'd read fairy tales and seen the gentle village women who gathered together to knit under the shade of a tree in the park.
Widow Eames, at first glance, matched those women who'd always had gingerbread wrapped in wax sheets in their bags and spared smiles to little girls who passed them on the street.
She was petite, her round cheeks doing favors to her age, and her fashion seemed to favor a ruffle, even down to the little frills around her wrists.
But appearances could be deceiving.
"Well, you've certainly grown yourself in consequence, my dear," Catherine Eames declared upon seating herself in my office at the keep.
"I…thank you," I said, and tried not to let it sound like a question.
"I wouldn't have said you were wasted on Barr. You seemed just his type. And plenty of women seem to stagnate after their youth. But the best of us grow sharper and stronger with age," she said, nodding once.
I took in a breath and decided that was a fair assessment of me.
I knew plenty of omegas whose betas strayed from their beds, and either they were oblivious or they chose to be oblivious.
I'd borne a grudge. I couldn't say whether or not it had done me many favors, but it had gotten me out of Malcolm's house.
And then I'd found my way here.
I cleared my throat and scooted to the edge of my chair, reaching for the tea.
"Are you drinking raspberry leaf?" Catherine asked, voice still sharp, those eyes I'd thought twinkled now hawkishly observant.
"I am," I said, nodding.
"Good girl. You're securing your place here with the alpha well enough, I see."
I smiled at that. "Torion was set on keeping me, regardless of the outcome of the rut. But I do want any wisdom you can offer, for my own sake. And for the child's."
"Who is your doctor?"
I frowned. "We've spoken to Thistlethwaite."
"An absolute idiot of a physician," Catherine Eames said without hesitation or any gentling of the insult.
I snorted in spite of myself and passed her a cup of tea. I brought my own cup to my lips and paused, the rim heating my flesh as I considered how to broach my questions.
I found myself saying something else entirely. "Thistlethwaite considers me too old to bear the child safely. He wants Torion to consider a plan for extracting the child."
"More omegas die in childbirth as a result of extractions than the challenge of labor," Catherine Eames said with a dark scowl before turning to study me speculatively. "You're young enough yet to give the alpha an heir and a few daughters to boot, I'd guess."
I hummed, thinking of what Mairwen had told me.
If my lifetime were to match Torion's because of our mating, I might be young enough to give him several sons and daughters.
The thought warmed me and I fought my smile, not wanting to explain it to the other omega.
Mairwen might think that the bite Torion had left on my thigh would assure an easier pregnancy or a safer labor, but I wanted every advantage.
My future was precious to me now, and I would take no chances.
"Your family is known for healthy children, safer deliveries," I said, holding the woman's gaze.
Her lips quirked and her head tipped, one thick white curl bouncing free of its pin. "Don't be coy, dear."
I sucked in a breath and nodded, setting my cup back to its saucer. "Do you have any wisdom, any advice to impart that might help me see this child safely into the world, preferably without sacrificing my own life?"
Catherine Eames sighed and sank back into her chair, almost nestling into the cushions and resting the saucer and tea on her belly.
"For starters, my dear, keep Thistlethwaite out of the picture. Rest when you are tired, move when you are not. Don't let them put you to bedrest if nothing troubles you. Is your alpha indulgent?"
I smiled at that. "Indulgent, protective, a little overbearing."
"Let him be. Take every moment of simple enjoyment you can find in these next few months," she said, then took a sip of her tea, considering. With a slight nod of her head, decision made, she lowered the teacup once more. "As for the birth, you should bind the wings."
My eyes widened. Wing binding was highly frowned upon by doctors, who claimed it risked the integrity of the dragon's flight later in life.
"Both my sons had their wings bound during delivery, and one has a dragon and one does not.
Of all the gentlemen of local dragonkin who no doubt were left with their wings unbound, the odds are as ill in their favor as my boys.
If my sons are any indication, a dragon is a matter of character, rather than anything to do with the manner of birth. "
I mulled her words over and nodded slowly. "Then how does one bind the wings before the babe is out of the mother?"
Catherine smiled approvingly at me and nodded, continuing with perfect authority, explaining the method. "If the alpha will object—"
I shook my head. "Torion mentioned the method himself."
"Excellent. My daughter and I will attend you at the birth.
And there is a young woman from Skybern we will call here.
Her father was my own doctor, and he taught her all his methods.
I trust her far more than any of the physicians here in the Hills, who use the methods written for them by men without a care for women's lives. "
"The Omega of Bleake Isle is very interested in progressive delivery methods. Have you heard of a water birth?" I asked.
Catherine Eames sat up straighter and extended her cup toward me for a refill. "I haven't heard of the method, but I have heard of her. They say she has wings!"
I hoped my friend didn't mind me gossipping about her to Widow Eames, but the woman's excitement raised my own. I'd been focused on my own well being for so long, surviving and hiding from dragonkin, I'd forgotten to care about others.
Feeling bitterly selfish, I realized that just because I wasn't very interested in being a dragon didn't mean it wouldn't be enormously powerful to other women. And if I had my own dragon before Torion, not because of Malcolm, where might I be in life?
Where you are now, a warm voice answered in my thoughts. The alpha would've taken one look at your dragon and begged to claim you.
Perhaps I might've claimed him first.
I took my daily constitutional walk with two escorts now that we'd made the news public that I was pregnant.
The walks grew shorter as my belly bloomed forward, but the warmer weather delivered refreshing breezes and heady fresh air.
Torion had constructed a sheltered hammock in the gardens for me to return to and rest in, and he usually met me there for luncheon.
Today, my return to the keep was marked by noisy activity near the barns, and it didn't take me long of searching the crowd to find the tallest, broadest figure with dark ash green wings.
"Torion?" I called out, my heart sinking as he spun around with thunderous worry and anger tangling his handsome features.
The escorts peeled away, moving toward the crowd of workers as Torion marched in my direction.
"What's wrong? What's happened?" I asked, my hands reaching for him, clasping his arms as he neared and steadying us both. Torion usually wore that expression on my behalf, but I was well and they were readying riders onto horses.
His breath was short as he answered, wings spread wide like a shield. "We just got word. There's a fire at your cottage. I don't know the damage yet."
"The cottage?" I gaped. "Was anyone…" But who would've been at the cottage? It was a wonder we even received word, and I doubted if by now there would be time to salvage anything, even with the river so close at hand.
"Stay here. I'll do everything in my power to save it for you," Torion said, brow tightly furrowed and jaw clenched as he bent toward me.
"It's likely already lost, Torion," I said as his lips landed firmly on my cheek.
"I'll fix it, I promise, love."
"T-Torion—" He was slipping free of my hands, and at first, I couldn't understand the panging ache in my heart. Was it for the cottage? For the last remnants of the mother I hadn't known well enough to value while she was alive?
A little, yes. But as I watched Torion bark orders to the men mounting horses before leaping into flight, I knew that the cottage was a loss I could easily bear. I didn't intend on running away again. I wouldn't need to. I was safe here. I was loved.
"Be careful," I called, my hands cupped around my mouth, then falling to rest on my hips, my nails biting into my waist.
A warning—one most likely not even heard—was not enough. Torion would throw himself into rescuing the cottage. And if he was hurt in the process?
I heaved a sigh and marched forward, catching a young human lad by the arm. "Ready my carriage."
"But, Omega—"
"Now," I growled.