87. I Will Eat Your Perimeter
i will eat your perimeter
Three weeks later—
I am officially living in a dictatorship.
If I so much as clear my throat, a shadow-tendril materializes with a glass of water.
If my lower back twinges, the floorboards sprout a fresh cushion of moss before my feet can hit the next plank.
Ashán and Sage have collectively agreed that the third trimester of a dual-souled monster pregnancy requires a safety perimeter… at all times.
I’m currently stranded on the massive window bench in our bedroom, buried under a mountain of cloud-silk blankets, staring out at the frosty treeline of the meadow.
On the cushion next to me sits Winnie’s latest delivery: a tiny, silky cream bonnet with lace ribbons so impossibly fragile that Ashán nearly had a panic attack just looking at it.
She also sent me an entire box of candles labeled with cute pregnancy sayings.
I pull out the plumeria candle that says Approved by Baby Vaelína, but before I can light it, Sage snatches the match from my hand.
He clicks his tongue at me. “Absolutely not.”
I stare blankly at him. “It’s a candle.”
“It is fire.”
“Very good.”
“Near you.”
“... Okay?”
“Open flames consume oxygen. Our little nestling appreciates oxygen.”
“The plant is right,” Ash agrees.
I roll my eyes and look back out the window.
“Great,” Ashán mutters. “She’s mad now.”
A tiny blue flame blossoms atop one of his skeletal fingers. He leans over me and lights the wick. “There you go, ash’kaela.” He places a kiss on my forehead.
I sigh… and blow out the candle. “Can you guys go for a while?”
Ashán freezes, his hand still hovering over the freshly extinguished wick.
“... Go?” he repeats, his face crumpling. “Go where, ash’kaela?”
“... For how long?” Sage whispers.
“The living room,” I murmur. “You guys are smothering me.”
Neither of them moves.
Sage’s vines wrap around Ashán’s shadows nervously.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll go to the living room.”
I clumsily push up from my cozy pile of pillows. Both of their hands shoot out at once.
“Careful.”
“I’ve got you.”
I glance at their outstretched hands.
Ash immediately withdraws his. “Sorry.”
Sage pulls his back a heartbeat later. “Habit.”
A shadow slips beneath my feet, cushioning the floor before I can take a single step.
Ashán quietly clears his throat. “... That wasn’t me.”
A patch of moss blooms beneath my feet.
Sage pointedly avoids my gaze. “... Nor I.”
“Right,” I drawl, crossing my arms over my swollen stomach. “So Nook is doing all of this. Got it.”
Neither of them says a word. Both suddenly become deeply invested in adjusting the curtains.
“I am going down the hall,” I announce slowly, taking one deliberate step.
The shadow glides with me. The moss arches into my soles.
“That’s it.” I point toward the door. “Get out. Right now!”
“Okay, okay,” they murmur. “We’re going.”
“Mhm.”
They shuffle toward the doorway with the enthusiasm of two children being sent to time-out, glancing over their shoulder the entire way as if I’ll change my mind.
Ash pauses. “Can we leave the door open?”
“Just a little?” Sage adds.
“No.”
“Cracked?”
“No.”
“What if—”
“No!”
I count under my breath.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
A pair of glowing mismatched eyes peek around the doorway.
“That’s it. I’m leaving.”
“Ash’kaela…” Ash says, sounding genuinely alarmed. “You cannot leave the safety perimeter.”
“If you don’t back up and give me space… I will eat your perimeter.”
“You can’t eat a perimeter.”
“Watch me.” I jab a finger in their partially shifted chest. “And if you two think I don’t know you’re talking about me in that thick little skull of yours, you are sadly mistaken.”
Ashán winces as he looks down at where my finger is firmly planted against his chest. His shadows flatten against his bones like a dog tucking its tail.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You are literally doing it right now.”
I turn on my heel and march to the closet, grabbing the biggest bag I can find.
“Eden.” Ashán’s voice drops to a panicked whisper. Shadows flare at his feet, wrapping tightly around the closet doorframe. Sage’s vines coil around the handle before I can pull it open. “Mí’maru, stop.” They take an uncertain step toward me. “What are you doing?”
“ílyara, please.”
“I am going to my sister’s cabin because apparently I have to relocate to get five minutes of peace.”
Frost spreads across the windows until they crack. If they were panicked before, they are entirely unhinged now. The mere mention of me leaving has Ashán’s shadows erupting into a solid wall between me and the door.
“No, ash’kaela. You cannot leave. Remember what happened last time you crossed the boundary line?”
“Eden, please. What if you went into labor?” Sage rasps. “Do not put yourself in danger because we are being overbearing.”
“I am not in danger!” I snap, turning around to face them. “I just want ten minutes where a shadow-tendril isn’t checking my blood pressure and moss isn’t growing under my toes!”
They flinch, and guilt slams into me.
Ashán slowly lowers his hands from the doorframe. The shadows between me and the exit thin out. “We will go.” His shadows give one last, longing brush against my ankles before retreating. “We will go downstairs. We will not look… or check your pulse.”
They don’t even peek into the room as they close the heavy oak door.
I let out a long sigh, dropping my hands from my hips and letting my shoulders slump.
I sink back into the plush mountain of pillows with an undignified moan.
I brace a hand against my side, waiting for the telltale drop in temperature or the rush of panic through the bond.
But to their credit, they remain silent.
I lean my head back against the cushions, letting the quiet wash over me.
I dig into the pillows and find where I stashed the other matches.
I light the candle and close my eyes. A mischievous whistle blows in from the other side of the window.
My heart gives a sudden thud against my ribs.
I lean forward, fingers digging into the ledge as I search the meadow.
Standing perfectly still beneath the trees… is a figure.
I blink hard, wondering if the third-trimester exhaustion is finally making me hallucinate.
But he doesn’t disappear. He is clad in full, polished armor that gleams with a strange brilliance against the dull winter gray.
The visor of his helm is drawn down, hiding his face.
He lifts a gauntleted hand, his fingers dipping into the air in a casual salute.
And though the glass is thick and the woods are a hundred yards away, a voice echoes right through the window.
“Two of twelve,” the voice murmurs through the visor of his helm. “The clock continues to turn.”
“Ash!” I yell, my voice cracking as I scramble backward, falling onto a cushion of moss. “Sage! Ashán!”
The bedroom door slams open so hard it splinters against the wall.
“Ash’kaela!”
They drop to their knees beside the window seat, their wings flaring wide enough to shield my whole body. Shadows gather around Ash’s arm, hardening into the wicked curve of his scythe.
“What happened?”
“There was someone out there.” I point at the window. “A knight.”
The window explodes outward in a shower of glittering glass. Emerald and shadow wings snap open, and then they’re gone.
My fingers curl around the splintered sill as I lean into the icy air, scanning the snow below for even the smallest flash of green or black. The canvas I painted of Eirlys flashes in my mind. The armor. The helm.
“He isn’t a threat!” I scream. “He was watching over Eirlys in my painting!”