Page 169 of May: Bloom & Bane

“Sage. Ashán.” Her voice is thick with sleep.

My left side shifts, flesh melting away in a ripple of dark, smoking shadow until his gleaming white vorí replaces it.

He presses his hand against her stomach, right beside mine. Eden’s small fingers lace between my warm, living knuckles and the smooth, hard curve of Ashán’s, binding us all together.

“Something’s different,” she whispers. Her gaze drops to our stacked hands.

I swallow past a thick lump in my throat. My wings throw an iridescent shadow across her face as I press closer.

“You aren’t alone in there anymore, Saevúra,” I choke out. My hand gently squeezes hers, while Ashán’s fingers trace the patch of skin right over the tiny pulse. “There’s a second heartbeat. Right here.”

The air inside our wing cocoon grows still.

“How is that possible?” she breathes, her eyes snapping up to lock with mine. “We just—last night?”

A laugh escapes me, as another tear slips free. “Our nestling won’t grow the way a human infant does. It’s kind of like how a tree starts in the soil long before it breaks through.”

“She needed a piece of each of us—Sage’s lavásia, my venya,” Ashán explains.

“She?” Eden breathes. “It’s a girl?”

A proud grin splits our face.

“A tiny princess,” he confirms. “Her soul is so small, but it’s already humming. Light and shadow, woven right down the middle.”

She looks down at her belly, a soft laugh bubbling out of her. “We’re having a girl!”

“Our daughter,” I say, curling our hands tighter. “Our little nestling.”

A tremor rattles through the floorboards, so hard it makes the heavy wood of the bedframe groan. The walls shriek as they’re slammed repeatedly with something metal.

It’s the Horsemen, Ashán mutters.

We’re out of bed before the next strike lands, pulling the blanket over Eden in the same motion.

“Sage?”

“Stay here.” I cup her jaw. “Please, Saevúra. The Horsemen are here, and the bond still isn’t sealed.”

As the door closes, a thread of Ashán’s shadow separates from our spine, sliding through the small opening and winding around her ankle.

I can feel the shadow’s attempt to soothe Eden through the bond.

I’m going to rip them apart, he snarls. They dare to interrupt this moment?

Our wings flare behind us.

Another metallic CLANG vibrates through Nook.

We hit the bottom of the stairs, and Damien is already there, planted square in the center of the foyer, between the front door and the staircase. The gaping wound at his shoulder isn’t any better than last night, but he’s here, exhausted and wounded, standing between a threat and a bond that isn’t even his.

Huh. Ashán murmurs. Maybe I misjudged this one.

High praise coming from you.

“They’ve been at it for four minutes,” Damien murmurs. “The house won’t let them in, and that one—” He points to War through the window, “—is taking it personally.”

CLANG.