8. In Fear
~ VOSKI ~
A couple of hours later, Gil dropped two duffel bags with harness straps attached, on the roots of the treehouse tree.
“Five nights,” he said without preamble.
“Ronen thinks you’ve been given orders and expect to return after five nights.
Do not leave me here, answering questions.
He’s juggling fifteen different kinds of shit, and worrying that you and Grace have been killed is not something he needs on top of that. ”
“What did you tell him about her?”
“That she’s only along for a messenger flight and meetings, because Koa can’t leave Kham yet. And that you’re committed to continue her training while you’re gone.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “You would have done the same for me.”
It was true. I trusted Gil almost as much as I trusted Kham. He’d proven that he had my back and would keep his mouth shut.
I stared at the bags, ruminating on this, when Gil cleared his throat. I looked up, surprised when I found my friend uneasy?
“What’s going on?”
“Are you doing anything to stop her getting pregnant?”
It was like being doused with water from a winter stream. The blood flowed downward, fast, and shockingly cold.
Pregnancy?
Shit. Shit.
“I didn’t think so,” Gil muttered, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of little leather sacks, each tied tightly with laces, pressing both into my hand. “I talked to Terra, she said—”
“You told Terra?!”
He gave me a flat look. “She thinks I made a friend who is not attached to the Keep,” he said through his teeth.
“Ah. Thank you.”
“She wasn’t impressed by the way. She was quite insistent that the woman should talk to her. I explained that wasn’t going to be possible in the short term, so she agreed to help. But she was clear: It’s important that any woman taking these has someone watching over them.”
“Right. I understand.”
Gil rolled his eyes, but continued without chastising me.
“She said if it’s been more than fourteen days since she started her last bleed, use the herbs in the dark bag.
If she’s in the first fourteen days, use the light colored bag.
And she said the days are really important.
Grace needs to count from the first day she had any bleeding. Terra said not every girl knows that.”
“I’ll… I’ll ask her,” I stared at the little sacks in my hand, stunned. Gil had gone quiet, so I offered my free hand. “Thank you for thinking of that. I hadn’t.”
“I’m aware,” he said flatly. “You’ve been missing a lot, bro. You’re not yourself.”
I scratched the back of my neck. “I’ve been distracted.”
Gil huffed. “This isn’t distraction, Voski. You’re off your game. I get it. It’s huge. But the only reason I agreed to this is because you need to get control of this so you can focus. We need you to focus.”
I nodded tightly. I knew he was right—I hated myself for all the ways I’d fucked up with Grace, and the ways I’d lost my edge. But I couldn’t change the past. Only do better now.
“Got it,” I said, my attention dragging back to those little sacks in my hand. I was always so careful. How had I forgotten?
The answer came effortlessly. The bond.
Was it possible it was too late? And what the hell could I do if it was?
Chill fear coursed through me, another bucketful of winter ice through my veins.
“Bro… Are you—”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, closing my palm on the little sacks then tucking them into the pockets of my leathers, before focusing on my brother again. “Thank you. I mean it. For all of this. I didn’t see this coming. So, you’re a life-saver.”
“Just as long as you come back in time, we’re golden.”
“I will. You have my word. Messenger mission. Took Grace along for the ride so the dragons wouldn’t be agitated. We’ll be back before the sixth night.”
Gil nodded once. “There was a lot of movement today, and tomorrow looks the same. Fly before dawn.”
“Will do.”
We looked at each other for a second, then he clapped my arm. “Good luck.”
“Good luck?”
He smirked. “The Creator gave you a live one who can sneak up on you. I look forward to watching this unfold.”
“Your compassion is touching.”
Gil bowed elegantly, as if he swung a cloak wide. “I’ll leave the touching to you.”
“Fuck off.”
“Again, that appears to be your—”
“Gil, shut up.”
He grinned, and I chuckled, shaking my head as he clasped my hand. As he turned away, Gil glanced at the treehouse, and shook his head. “Take care of her, bro.”
“I will.”
As I turned back to the treehouse, those little bags burned in my palm. ‘Kham?’
‘We remain close, as you asked.’
‘Thanks. We’ll fly after high moon.’
‘We will rest until then.’
‘Good. But, please, don’ t let us be surprised again. By anyone.’
It took him a beat to answer, as a small, quivering thread of amusement trickled through the bond. I grumbled under my breath. Why was everyone smirking at me today?
When I got inside—remembering the lock on the trap door this time—Grace was on the bed, sitting with her back to the wall, flipping through one of the books by candlelight.
She looked up as soon as I crawled inside, pulling the duffel bags behind me.
My heart flipped over in my chest, and she smiled.
Those little bags made my palms sweat.
“We’ll fly after high moon,” I said. “We need to be well away before the dawn shift change.”
She nodded. “Was Gil kind?”
“More than kind, he thought of some things I didn’t. Some things we need to talk about,” I said, not quite meeting her eyes.
She put the book aside. I felt her gaze on my face as I crawled onto the bed to sit next to her, shoulder to shoulder, because even though I didn’t mind asking a woman about her cycle—my mother had been determined I wouldn’t grow up squeamish—the rest of this conversation felt fragile.
When I was seated next to her, I opened my palm and showed her the bags.
She peered at them, frowning, and reached for them slowly. “What’s inside?”
“Herbs,” I said quietly, then made myself meet her eyes. “Depending how long it’s been since you last bled, you should be taking one of these. To prevent pregnancy.”
Her hand froze, hovering over mine. Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with me. “I didn’t know… herbs?”
I nodded. “A healer who works with the Furyknights provides these to any of the women who work at the Keep, or who socialize with the men. If they want them.”
Her throat bobbed and that cold scream sounded in my head again.
“Grace, we have to be careful. I’m a Furyknight. You’ll be one soon. I couldn’t imagine if you fell in training or hurt yourself and then we found out—”
“No, no,” she said quietly, her hand moving again to pick up the nearest bag. “I’m just shocked.”
“Don’t be. It’s something I’ve been aware of for a long time. And something we’ll have to think about for the rest of our lives.”
She looked up at me again. “Children?”
“Pregnancy, yes. Do you know how many days ago you started your last bleed?”
She blinked and her cheeks pinked. “I, uh, yes. It was, um… eight days ago?”
“Then, it’s good to start the herbs now, because you’ll soon be able to get pregnant.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“My mother made certain I wouldn’t be ignorant. She wanted me to know how to make grandchildren for her. And how not to,” I said flatly.
Grace flinched. “Oh.”
“Ignore her,” I said. “I do.” I smiled, and she smiled back at me, but hers faltered. I took her hand. “I know this is a lot. But we need to make this decision now. And I think this is for the best—with your training and my responsibilities, this isn’t the time to risk a family.”
She nodded, but her eyes dropped again.
“Grace?” I asked her quietly.
“I agree with you,” she said, then bit her lip. “I just never imagined—I didn’t know it was possible to prevent pregnancy. I thought we put it in God’s hands and left it at that.”
God isn’t the only one interested in babies.
Dear Lord, the implications were terrifying.
I swallowed back angry words about the horrors of what unwanted children endured, and the decisions parents in poverty made to ease their problems, and made myself breathe.
She wasn’t considering the state of the world. She was talking about us. Our babies.
That stole my breath. “Grace—”
“Do you want children? Ever?” she asked.
I sat back.
I had to be honest. But I feared her response. “I don’t know,” I said, then watched her.
She sat back as well, clearly shocked. Her forehead pinched. “Can I ask why you wouldn’t?”
“I have a job that’s truly dangerous. I am dangerous.”
“But—”
I raised a hand to stop her. “My biggest concern is… My childhood was something I wouldn’t wish on an enemy. That makes me unsure I’d ever want to bring children into this world.”
Her expression was pained. As if I threatened to take something precious from her.
She wanted to have children? With me? I was stunned by her simple trust, after all I’d put her through.
And yet, she looked at me expectantly. How to explain my hesitation without speaking things I couldn’t? Or things I swore I never would?
“Grace… My work…” I couldn’t tell her about the Shadowfang.
She’d already deduced that I was more than a simple soldier—we’d met in another kingdom, after all.
And I’d helped her deal with killing a man.
But there was so much to my work that she couldn’t know.
Yet. Yet. I was certain she’d join me in the Shadowfang eventually.
But not for some time. How to make sure she didn’t hear the vague explanations as excuses?
“At any moment, I could be called to war,” I said finally. “As could you.”
“But, I’m not a Furyknight yet.”
“You will be.” I wasn’t flattering her. “But even if that takes months, my job means that I could be called out tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month. I grew up in a home where my parents were resident, but rarely present, and it was hell. I couldn’t imagine a life as a child when my parents simply disappeared at a moment’s notice.
And while we always hope and pray we’ll return, we can’t ignore the fact that this work is dangerous.
Furyknights die every year. And in battle, we lose many in a day.
I’m not sure I can conscience bringing a child into this world, only to leave them. ”
Grace dropped her chin, looking at her hands in her lap. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I don’t want to scare you, but this is the reality of this life. If you were to get pregnant… God, could we even let you even fly? What if you fell?”
“Koa would take care of me,” she said firmly. But she didn’t raise her eyes.
“I have no doubt. But you’re reckless. You don’t protect yourself. Koa can’t protect you from you.” I shook my head. “Regardless, for now, would you be willing to delay? Just until we have more clarity?”
“Yes,” she said simply, then looked up at me, her eyes sad, but also smiling. “I want time with you. Time to learn and strengthen. To build a life. Together.”
“So do I.” And I did. God help me, I did.
She stared at me a moment, then tilted her head.
“You know, for someone so brave, you make many decisions out of fear.” While I tried to think of an answer to that, she took both herb bags and weighed them in her palms. Then, as if she’d made a decision, she let them drop into her lap and offered me a mischievous grin. “I look forward to frightening you.”
But even as I chuckled, her smile tightened.