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“You carved the whole thing? Why didn’t you use the Song of Creation?”
He shakes his head, “No, something like this you do by hand.”
“So this is what you’ve been up to in the woodshed, I gather.” Teasing him, I shift my pregnant weight around the crib, trying in vain to absorb every element of the design. Pain beckons in my hips, but I won’t let it steal this moment.
He shrugs, taking in the weight of many months of effort with a single sigh. “It was a lot of work.”
“I’ll bet.” I can't seem to take it all in. The exquisite details carved into honey-colored wood bring a whole scene to life before my eyes.
“Hyx, I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. I can’t think of anything more auspicious to bless our child with than this. Is that the Well of Pure Souls carved across the footboard?”
“Yes,” His fingers follow along the water as it cascades into a flowing stream along the bottom. Hewn into the headboard, the Majestic Mountains stand tall and watchful, ready to guard our little ones while they sleep. Best of all, Hyx had carved intricate wings as the bars of the crib. Each one is delicate and unique, like nothing I’ve ever seen.
“I did sing the Song of Inspiration while I worked.” Thumbing his handiwork, his face turns grave. “I’m still piecing things together, but it’s clearer every day.”
My research on Fated Mates has likely gone as far as it can go, but I’m still interested in learning about past lives. I can look forward to spending my eternity combing through Hyx’s memories. I have the kind of time scientists dream of, where I can devote myself fully to my family and my work. And I have the kind of subject that demands attention a thousand lifetimes over.
The history of the Ishani people and planet is all but lost. With Hyx’s memories becoming more clear every day, I have everything I need to revive this lost culture, even if it’s just for us.
Pain digs at my back. Even the glorious work Hyx has put himself into can’t distract me from the aches of pregnancy. As I place my hands on my hips trying to ease the pain in my back, he senses my struggle as he always does.
“Come sit down, I’ll rub your feet.” He ushers me into the rocking chair and sits on the floor by my feet. The discomfort of carrying a child is made all the better by his loving care of me over the past months. I can rest easy knowing we are safe, that Jwoon will provide, and that we can succeed for the Ishani.
An hour later, I wake in the rocking chair to find that Hyx has placed a soft white blanket across my shoulders. Basking in the afternoon sunlight, I take in a sense of the completion of all we’ve been through. Whether it’s been in these months, or these lifetimes, I've always felt that deep down, someone is watching over us.
“Thank the Precursors,” I say to my giant belly as the baby inside me flutters and kicks. “Hello, you.”
With my hand on my tummy, I feel something hard and bony sticking into my ribs. “Oh,” I moan, rubbing the area to get the infant to turn. As my fingers glide across my skin, a tiny bump sticks against me.
“Somebody's awake,” I tell them from my end. From theirs, the bump moves, sticking across the other side. It’s a little game we play. I move my fingers to the other side and find them again. A rumble builds inside of me that I like to think of as the baby laughing. It makes me smile to think of playing with them soon. Very soon.
From the kitchen, the rich smell of fried granthem fills the air around me. At once, my belly rumbles again, this time wrenching with the pangs of hunger. “Okay, let’s go find Daddy.”
The kitchen counter is full to the brim with rich smells of Hyx’s fragrant cooking. He’s stepped up in the kitchen, taking great pride in feeding his baby. But despite the evidence, he doesn't seem to be here.
From the patio, the charred smell of crisp vegetables cooking on the grill calls me towards the chilly night air. Hyx is outside, manning an infrared grill with a red apron, his wings tucked into themselves to avoid the heat.
“There he is. Smells amazing. I can hardly wait to eat.” The table is set with a steady assortment of grilled vegetables and my favorite, fried granthem, all laid out for me. Candles light the scene and my heart wells with joy.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” I confess, sitting down. More than anything I want to dive in, but the pain in my back has only grown since waking from my nap.
Hyx serves a plate of grilled sheebangs and hands me the salt. I want to smile, but it comes out as a grimace. “What’s the matter? Did I overcook it?”
“No,” I wince, the pain rising into a wave that sizes my back in a spasm. Taking slow deep breaths, I manage a few choice words.
“Hyx, there better be a Song for the Delivery of Babies.”
“What?” He jumps from his seat. “It’s time?”
“It’s time.”
CHAPTER 39
HYX
Golden rays peek in through the window of our room, and I hear Libby groan in protest. A smile forms on my lips, and I wrap one of my wings around her. She snuggles in close to me and sighs.
It’s been thirty years since we crashed here on Jwoon III, and in that time we’ve found a routine in our new home. Constructing everything ourselves had been difficult, but ultimately very much worth it.
