Epilogue Alemayehu
ALEMAYEHU
EPILOGUE: EIGHT MONTHS LATER
Kendra is wobbling, and she will not admit this.
She will tell me she is walking with perfect balance and that the size of her belly has not affected her center of gravity, and my Bouda and I will both remain silent.
We have learned over the last several months that correcting a pregnant queen on matters of her own body is a mistake that only needs to be made once.
She wobbles, and I walk beside her with one hand on the small of her back, and we move through the village together in the late afternoon sun.
She is holding the phone in front of her, the screen angled so the camera catches both of us on the path, and the voice coming through the speaker is her mother’s, loud and warm.
“I’m telling you, baby, your aunt Denise already looked it up and the tourist island has a ferry that runs every hour.
We can get there. We’ve been looking at hotels and everything.
” Her mother’s voice fills the village and bounces off the cabin walls and my Bouda stirs with amusement.
“And your father wants to know if your husband eats regular food or if we need to bring something special.”
“Mama, I’ve told you three times, he eats meat. He just prefers it fresh.” Kendra rolls her eyes at me and I press my lips together to keep from smiling. Her mother asks this question every time we speak and I answer with the same patience every time.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Wallace,” I say, bowing my head slightly toward the phone. “Your family is welcome. I will make arrangements for your comfort.”
“See, Kendra? Your husband has manners. I don’t know where you got your attitude from, but it wasn’t from me.” Her mother laughs and I hear other voices in the background, her father asking about the weather, someone I don’t recognize asking if they can bring the baby a gift.
Kendra’s family accepted what she is to me and what I am to her fast. They don’t fully understand the bond or the Bouda or the world their daughter married into. They understand love, and that has been enough.
“We’ll call you tomorrow, Mama. I’m walking through the village right now and I want to enjoy it.”
“Alright, baby. But before you go, I’m sorry, I have to say it.” Her mother’s voice drops. “Your man is delicious, Kendra. Good lord. I don’t know what they’re feeding him up there but whatever it is, it’s working.”
The queen’s mother finds us attractive, my Bouda observes, and I can feel him preening inside my head like a bird ruffling its feathers. This is flattering. I approve of this woman.
I laugh and Kendra’s eyes go wide and her face flushes. “Okay, Mama, gotta go, love you, bye.” She ends the call and shoves the phone into her pocket and looks at me like she’s reconsidering whether introducing her family to her mate was the right decision.
“Don’t,” she says, pointing a finger at my face. “Don’t you dare repeat what she said.”
I press my lips together and hold my palms up in surrender, but my ridge is shifting with amusement and she can see it. She shakes her head and starts walking again and I fall into step beside her with one hand on the small of her back.
She is quiet for a few steps, looking at the cabins, the gathering space, the empty fire pit. “We should invite Meekah and his family over,” she says, her hand resting on her belly. “A real dinner. Something to break in the village.”
“I will catch an elk and build a fire,” I tell her. Kendra nods and leans into me and we keep walking.
The village is finished. Cabins standing in a wide circle around the central gathering space, timber frames solid, roofs sealed, paths cleared.
Levi’s work is in every joint and beam. My own hands shaped the doorways wide enough for a Bouda in full shift to pass through.
The largest cabin sits at the north end, facing the stream.
That is ours. Zaki’s is beside it, empty and waiting, and the emptiness of it is the only part of this village that does not feel like home.
Fourteen rooms, my Bouda says. I originally requested fourteen, and you gave me six. How do you expect to house twelve cubs in six rooms?
“We are not having twelve cubs,” I say under my breath, and Kendra glances up at me.
“Twelve cubs?” She stops walking and puts her hands on her hips and stares at me. “Is that your Bouda talking? Let me speak to him for a minute. Shift so I can pop him on the nose.”
Do not force me to shift, my Bouda says immediately. The queen does not need to address me. Everything is fine. Six rooms is adequate. I misspoke. I retract my previous statement.
I laugh, and Kendra watches my face with the satisfied grin. She has the beast wrapped around her finger.
“That’s what I thought,” she says, and she takes my hand and keeps walking.
She stops at the center of the gathering space and turns in a slow circle, taking it in.
“Show me our cabin again,” she says, and I walk her up the path to the north end where the largest structure faces the stream.
She runs her fingers along the doorframe I carved, tracing the wood.
She stops at the bedroom window and looks out at the stream and the forest beyond it and the light coming through the glass paints her face in gold.
“This is where she’ll grow up,” she says, her hand on her belly.
We walk back out to the gathering space.
She leans into me. I wrap my arm around her.
Kendra grabs my hand and presses it to her belly and I feel the kick, strong and sharp and unmistakably Bouda, the cub’s furnace burning hot enough that I can feel the warmth through her skin.
My ridge flattens, every blade going dormant.
I close my eyes and hold my palm there and let the kick happen again.
She is strong, my Bouda says. Our daughter is strong, Alemayehu.
She will carry the sovereign frequency. I can already feel it in her.
He pauses, and the pause is rare enough that I open my eyes.
You have built something worthy of her, brother.
The Matriarch would be proud of what you have done with this land.
I do not respond.
“Zaki is going to lose her mind when she meets our baby,” Kendra says, her hand resting over mine on her belly. “She’s going to try to train her before she can walk.”
“She will succeed,” I tell her, and Kendra laughs again and leans into me and I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold her against my side.
The village is empty and it is just the two of us and the daughter who is not yet born. But Zaki will come home, and when she does she will not come alone. She will bring the scattered Bouda back to this land.
I hold my mate and our daughter kicks against my palm and my Bouda is quiet beside me.
The sun is going down behind the pines and the village stands empty around us, the cabins waiting for the voices that will fill them, the fire pit waiting for its first flame.
Zaki will come home. Our people will follow.
But tonight it is just the three of us, and that is enough.
I press my lips to the crown of Kendra’s head and she smells like rain on dry earth and wild honey and the daughter growing inside her, and I close my eyes. I have guarded many things in my life. This is the one I was made for.
The End.
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ZAKI IS UP NEXT!
The Bouda do not kneel.
Zaki made sure of that — crossing an ocean on bare feet and fury, tracking the scattered survivors of her massacred clan through territories that wanted her dead.
She returns to Wintermoon with a handful of Bouda and the scars to prove what it cost her.
She has a village waiting, a queen who needs her, and a duty that leaves no room for anything else.
Then Tau arrives.
The alpha of a displaced lion pride, migrating to Wintermoon with what remains of his people after a war he almost lost. He fought for his land until there was nothing left to fight for, and the shame of surrender sits in him like a second heartbeat.
He did not come to Wintermoon to start over.
He came because there was nowhere else to go.
A sovereign warrior and a fallen alpha. Both carrying the weight of the people they saved and the ones they could not.
When Zaki’s ridge drops without her permission the first time his scent reaches her, she does what any Bouda warrior would do — she ignores it. When Tau’s lion goes still in his chest the moment she walks past him, he does what no displaced alpha should do — he follows her.
But Mother Fate does not care about pride, duty, or the walls two stubborn shifters have built around their grief. The mate bond is already burning, and Tau is not the kind of man who lets his prey walk away.