Lobikno
Lhoris and I took turns checking in on Oz during the day. I made a point to sit with her for a few minutes in the evening if Lhoris had to step out to help deliver a baby or otherwise assist the healer. Clovis regularly took Lhoris along with him to deliveries, getting him trained up for the flood of them coming in June. The old physician was training as many willing hands as he could to catch babies, but Lhoris was the only one honestly training with him beyond that. It was almost too easy to tease my brother about becoming a midwife.
One such night, I got Oshruli to bed in my room before going next door to check on Oz. She could hear me approach, so I didn’t bother knocking anymore. It was a strain for her to get out of bed to let me in and she had plenty of time to tell me to wait if she wasn’t decent. When I slipped inside, she was where I found her most evenings, lying uncomfortably in bed with whatever book she wanted to read. There was an entire stack on her bedside table within easy reach.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
As always, she set down her book and tried to sit up as though her massive belly wasn’t slowing her down, but the babies were too big for her to fake it any longer. She gave me a pleading look. I chuckled and offered her my hand.
After many long months, I stopped flinching away from that sort of contact. She’d tried to make sure I wasn’t neglecting myself and had respectfully maintained every boundary I’d discovered and drawn along the way. Except while she was asleep. I couldn’t hold it against her if she rested her cheek on me or nestled under my chin while unconscious. I thought it was nice, though I’d never admit it. It wasn’t fantastic. I couldn’t feel that for her, but it was just so damn good not to hate and fear the experience. I looked forward to not ever being obligated to touch her again, but there was a part of me that truly appreciated the opportunity to enjoy taking care of my baby instead of dreading it.
Oz panted a little bit once she was upright. “How do I feel? I feel like I’ll be glad to have my body back someday,” she answered with a groan. “It’s embarrassing to be this weak.” She turned a little so she could rest her feet on the floor and rubbed her lower back.
“Weak?” I barked, hands on my hips. “Don”t you realize you’re one of the most powerful beings in the world? You’re creating life. It’s perilous and magical.” I snorted. “Males think they are so powerful because they can kill things, but this,” I gestured to her belly, “this is real power. It’s literally my job to help you do the things that make you feel weak right now.”
She blinked at me. “So, I’m not just a burden?” Her eyes filled with tears.
Pregnancy did not agree with her temperament. She was used to independence, so the loss of it, even temporarily, was hard on her. I felt it every time she failed to do something that was once simple. Not because I allowed her in, though. It was the strength of that feeling that made it through to me despite any efforts to keep her out.
“No,” I assured her, with a hint of a smile and a shrug. “You’re doing important work.”
“So are the other women, but they contribute to the community,” she said, her chin trembling. “I feel like I’m just being kept.”
“What…?” I trailed off when I realized what was really bothering her. She’d been raised in a religious organization that made her feel obligated to serve, and she wasn’t able to in the way she knew how. She wasn’t being very fair to herself. Especially since she spent most of her day watching over the children of the chateau staff.
I nodded to myself and snorted when I realized she just didn’t see it.
“Haven’t you noticed the way children have been flocking to you? How you’ve been herding great groups of them around every afternoon?”
She shrugged. “They’re just there to play with Oshruli.”
I frowned at her and sighed.
“Ozanna, the mothers have been sending their small children to you. For you to keep safe while they do their work. Has nobody told you how much that helps? All these months you thought it was just Ruli making friends? They’re too young to help with the winter work but too old to be kept in a sling.”
“Really?” A big tear escaped one eye.
“Really,” I said, suppressing a smirk, “you’re worried over nothing. Lhoris is rubbing off on you and not in a good way.”
She laughed then winced grumbling at herself. “It seems belly laughs are no longer an option.” She gave me a sad little grin while rubbing her lower back. Again.
I frowned a little because I hadn’t sensed that pain though the bond, which was concerning. Pain was one of the few things I wanted to be aware of.
“Well, can I get you anything?” I asked and stared at a tear that was still hanging onto her chin. Now I feared that I was missing other things causing her discomfort. “Water?”
“Oh no,” she said in mock horror. “I’ll be up all night on the chamber pot.”
I chuckled. “Can’t have that, you need sleep.” So, I rearranged the pillows on the bed. “This should help your back a little.” I was slow to remember the things that I was supposed to look out for. The pain this stubborn battle ax might try to hide. “How are your feet doing?” I asked as I helped her get resituated against the pillows.
“They’ve been better,” she admitted with a shrug.
I frowned at her and poked at the bond some more and it lit up with pain.
She blinked at me, sensing the change. “Why are you angry with me?” she cried, the tears falling for real this time.
I sighed in frustration. “I’m not mad at you, woman,” I grumbled. “But … why didn’t you tell anybody you are that miserable? I can help you. So could Lhoris with his herbs.” I pulled my boots off and sat cross legged at the foot of the bed, cursing in elvish.
“He’s been giving me herbs. What are you doing?” she asked, apparently confused, though somehow still weeping.
“Your feet hurt, don’t they?” I snapped, grabbing one of them without being rough. “I’m going to help the pain.” Oz blinked at me, probably confused by the way my grumping was contrary to my words.
I rubbed my hands together, calling up a little fire to flare between them for a few seconds. Her eyes widened, but I dismissed the flame and wrapped my almost unbearably hot hands around her foot. She moaned in relief, relaxing into her pillows. I snorted and started massaging.
Her eyes hooded while I worked some of the aches away.
“Thank you so much,” she eventually sighed.
Those words hit hard, though I didn’t show it on my face. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t just the bond fucking with my head. Adukli never thanked me when I did those things for her. She tormented me while I was unable to resist the drive to take care of her. But Oz was just grateful. It felt like I was repaying her for the space she’d given me. It wasn’t the bond trying to make me feel things I didn’t want. I reheated my hands and moved on to her calf, probing for knots.
“I think I like doing this for you,” I said, feeling like I had to say something, but didn’t know what. “Adukli … it never felt right to take care of her. To do these things. Everything has been different this time around.” That all felt true.
“She never deserved you, Lobikno.” Oz sighed. “I’m glad if this can help you somehow. You’re worthy, you know.” Her brow furrowed and a moment of anger flashed in her eyes. “Point her out to me someday when I’m not pregnant. I’ll give you her head.”
“There’s that elf-half that you claim hardly exists,” I cackled. Exchanging the heads of our enemies had become a joke, but something told me she meant it when it came to Adukli.
“Oh,” she groaned as I worked out another knot, “she’s in here. Turns out she just doesn’t have much to say until someone I love gets hurt.”
I paused for a moment, caught a little off guard. “So, you’re saying you love me?” I never got the impression that she was developing feelings for me. I didn’t want her to. I didn’t want her. I couldn’t want her.
“Yes, of course.” She rolled her eyes as though she thought I was being stupid on purpose. “You’re family.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I nodded in understanding. The bond was still cracked open so I felt the warmth of her affection. I didn’t think it was the sort of affection I’d have to worry about. Though it was awfully nice to know she … honestly cared when she didn’t have to. It made me wonder what it would be like to share this bond with someone that loved me the way she loved Lhoris. The few times I’d accidentally glimpsed it through our bond, it was like a blinding beam of sunlight, focused and directed toward the object of that love.
I heard Lhoris’ footsteps in the hallway outside. At this point in the pregnancy, Lhoris had made his peace with the attention I had to give Oz, though I hadn’t explained this form of pain relief to my younger brother yet. Lhoris probably wasn’t going to get angry about finding me with my hands on her legs.
Probably.
“Good, you’re back,” I said when he came in. “Why have you let her go on in so much pain?” That would let him know why I was there and the accusation might leave him on his heels.
Lhoris gaped at me. “I, uh, gave her medicine …” he paused. “Wait, why didn’t you know before now?”
I scowled at him, but at least he wasn’t going for my throat. “Come here and I’ll explain it all to you.”
“Oh, ok” Lhoris deflated a little, probably weary from his evening, before turning to put his cloak on a hook. “I’ll change for bed first.”
“Don’t forget to act surprised if your father tries to teach you about this in a couple weeks,” Oz said to Lhoris.
“Oh, Tamnaeth and Imryll are coming after all?” I asked.
“And Alyndra, thank the elements,” Lhoris confirmed while he put his satchel in the wardrobe and switched to his sleep pants. He left his dirty shirt and pants on the floor. Oz gave him a pointed look. He gave her a crooked grin then picked them up and put them in the laundry bag.
He joined me at the foot of the bed.
“Right, you know why she hurts?” I asked.
Lhoris shook his head. “The extra weight?”
“Hey,” Oz grumbled and gave him a playful pout. “That’s rude.”
“I’m sorry, my love.” Lhoris gave her a sheepish grin.
I rolled my eyes. “The reason her feet, back and hips hurt … as I understand it, the joints get loose during pregnancy, so the pelvis can make space for the baby to pass through. It’s good for delivery, but painful in other ways. The knots and cramps in her legs are from not eating enough vegetables and pushing herself too hard.” I said the latter while giving Oz a sharp look.
She rolled her eyes again.
Lhoris smirked. “So, what is it you need to show me?”
“Something that Tamnaeth probably never thought of, considering he doesn’t have innate fire.” I summoned my flame and trapped it between my fingers until it reached the right temperature. Then I grabbed Lhoris’ hand so he could feel it. “No hotter,” I said. Lhoris nodded.
I took my hot hands to Oz’s other foot and allowed Lhoris to practice the temperature. He yelped once and waved his hands in the air. “That would be too hot,” I said dryly. Oz chuckled. But I didn’t tease him any further. It takes time to figure out how to do it without burning yourself. By the time I got through with her second calf, Lhoris had it worked out.
Oz watched us with a silly little smile on her face. She was obviously happy, and it was probably the best she’d felt in a while. It felt good to know that I had done that for someone and for a moment understood my brother’s desire to heal.
“You should work your way up her backside and focus on her lower back pain,” I said as I got out of bed. My knees were a little stiff from sitting bent for so long. “And probably her upper back. It’s tricky since she’ll have to lay on her side, but it’s not hard once you get the hang of it.” I grabbed my boots and tucked them under my arm.
Lhoris, never one to miss an opportunity to touch his woman, did as he was instructed before I was even out the door. I paused outside and listened for a moment.
“I had no idea it was bothering you that much. It’s so normal I just assumed it was something to be endured. I’m sorry, love,” he apologized. “I’d have gone to Lobikno for advice sooner had I known there was something else to be done for it.”
“He talked a little bit about Adukli,” she said abruptly. It was silent in the room for a moment. Not even a rustle of fabric. Like they’d both frozen in place.
“He’s never talked about her,” Lhoris said, eventually. “What did he say?”
She gave him a recap of the brief exchange. It never occurred to me that it was such a big deal. But I supposed I hadn’t talked about that monster since Lhoris first came back to the mountains to help me heal from her “affections.” Then again, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d even said her name out loud.
“That’s amazing. It sounds like he’s healing,” Lhoris said, awe in his voice.
“Life here is good for him. The pace is slower and not murderous.” She sighed happily.
“For the time,” Lhoris said, followed by the sounds of kissing. I grimaced and walked away at that point. It was bad enough to hear bits and pieces of their nocturnal activities from my room, I did not want to hear it close up.
I let myself into my room, summoning some silence so they wouldn’t realize I’d been hovering to listen, but also to keep Oshruli from waking up. The boy still slept lightly, as if he needed to be ready to spring into action to flee from threats. I knew how it felt.
He was sound asleep in his cot near the fireplace, the embers’ gentle glow lighting his peaceful face. I kept using the silence as I got ready for bed, though I intended to stay up and read for a little while. Instead, I found myself just looking down at my son, contemplating what Oz and Lhoris had said when they thought I wasn’t listening.
Maybe I had done some healing over these months. A lot had changed. I had a home with a culture that wasn’t geared towards creating monsters. I had my son. I had Lhoris and his mate. I had another child on the way … with my brother’s mate which was not a pleasant thought, but the baby was doing well. I was excited to actually enjoy fatherhood. Even training the guard and soldiers had been rewarding in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Likewise, was teaching Lhoris the little things his foster father would have if he’d been here.
It took a while for me to realize what it was—what had changed. It was the cumulative effect of all those things.
For the first time in my long life … I was happy.