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“Only a little preoccupied? I’ll have to do better next time,” Zarin teased, giving her a quick grin. “As for the pendant, the stone is from a city that no longer exists, lost long ago beneath the sands. It’s been in my family for generations, always given to one’s true love.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Who knew, when you abducted me, that you’d turn out to be such a romantic?”
He raised her hand to his lips. “Just you wait. We’ll test the limits of my romantic bent. But first…”
“But first,” she said, straightening her shoulders and tightening her grip on his hand. “We deal with the family.”
16
EPILOGUE
One cycle later
The olive harvest was even better than she’d hoped for. They’d opted for hand harvesting this cycle, which was a slow process but necessary, given all the trauma the trees had gone through.
Zarin slid an arm over the swell of Seraiah’s belly, placing a kiss on her neck. “I see you eyeing that ladder, darling. Don’t you dare set one foot on it. Not this harvest, anyway.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I know, I know. But they’re doing it wrong.” She pointed at the young man quickly stripping the olives along with the leaves from the branches a few trees over. “If I could just get up there and show them how it’s done, the trees would be much happier and so would I.”
“You promised,” he reminded her. “And don’t you worry. Winnie and her daughter have it well in hand.”
When she learned that Seraiah was pregnant and wouldn’t be able to be as hands on as she’d like with this year’s harvest, Winnie informed her over their weekly afternoon tea that she and her daughter would be taking charge. Seraiah was not allowed to risk her safety or that of the little royal she carried in her belly by traipsing around in trees.
She snickered as Winnie stomped up to the young man’s tree and began scolding him. “Okay, fine. It’s just…” She trailed off, petting one of the ancients, its gnarled bark rough beneath her hand.
“I know,” Zarin said, turning her to face him, his amber eyes bright with love. “You worked so hard to rehabilitate this grove, and you did such an amazing job.” He waved a hand at the trees loaded with dark green olives. “Our grove is alive, the ancients recovered and flourishing once again, and it’s all thanks to you.”
“Guess that legend about the death of the ancients and fall of the kingdom is going to have to wait until later, huh?”
“Exactly. Not on our watch,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Which means you can take a moment to appreciate it while others do the tedious work of hand harvesting those olives and turning them into the best olive oil on Cinzia. Those fancy folks on Badin are going to be begging to get their hands on your liquid gold.”
“It’s going to be some damn good olive oil,” she said, watching as Winnie’s daughter scrambled up a ladder and redirected several pickers. Her feet itched to climb a tree and join in on the fun but, ever since she’d started showing, Zarin had turned into the most ridiculously overprotective male on the planet. If he could encase her in fast foam to protect her from every perceived threat, he would.
“Even better than Tan’s.” With a grin, he took her by the hand and led her over to the pavilion they’d had built at the center of the grove, between the nine ancient trees.
“What’s even better than Tan’s?” Sona asked, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched her husband walk around the grove patting the back of their fussy baby.
“Zarin thinks our olive oil will be better than yours.” Seraiah lowered herself to the pile of pillows and blankets next to her sister with a little groan that had Zarin rushing to her side. She waved him off. “I’m fine. Just a bit challenging to get down this low. Belly’s starting to get in the way.”
Zarin scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Dammit. I should have had a platform built so you’d be up higher. And why are you sitting on blankets?” He raised his hand, calling over a guard. “Tell the palace to get us a mattress.”
“No,” Seraiah said with a laugh, waving away the young guard. “My husband is overreacting as usual. Go back to your guarding before your captain makes her rounds.” She pointed at Zarin. “And you. Stop trying to turn our guard into your personal errand runners or I’ll sic Iraj on you. Come. Sit. Let me use you as a pillow.”
“Now that, I can do,” he said, taking a seat behind her and helping readjust her so she was sitting between his legs, his thighs her armrests.
She leaned back against him with a sigh, his warmth seeping into her skin, relaxing her muscles. “Where’s the other one?” she asked her sister, nodding towards Tanl’n and the baby now fast asleep on his father’s chest.
Sona waved a casual hand. “Off with the grandparents somewhere, babbling their ears off, I’m sure.” A soft smile crossed her lips as she took in her sister. “You ready for this?”
Seraiah put a hand over her burgeoning belly. “I’m going to have to be, aren’t I?” she said, a shot of nerves racing through her. Zarin rubbed her suddenly tight shoulders, his skillful hands reminding her she wasn’t alone in this.
And her parents would be here for the birth, too. They’d decided to make Tigros home for the next few months, settling quite nicely into the house on the cliff Zarin arranged for them. The cliff house was a compromise and a much-needed buffer zone — far enough away they weren’t driving Seraiah nuts with their hovering and annoyingly good intentions, but close enough to lend a hand, provide support, and join them for dinner.
A radical change from the first time they met Zarin. That time, her mother had greeted him with her blasters primed and a lecture that blistered his ears. But, after seeing how Zarin treated their daughter and how happy Seraiah was with him, her parents had taken to him like fishlings to water, a delight that only grew when he presented them with their new home away from home.
“You’re going to be an amazing mother.” Zarin covered her hand with his and kissed the top of her head.
She tilted her head back to look at him. “And you’re going to be a fantastic father.”
