Page 251 of January: Birch & Snowdrop
“Nothing’s wrong.” I can barely speak past the tightness in my throat. “Everything is right, Saelûn.”
She blinks up at me, her eyes searching mine, concern flashing across her face when she sees the tears in my eyes.
“Andrik? You’re crying... you’re shaking. What is it?”
I can’t find my breath to answer. I just lift my hand, gesturing with a trembling finger toward her bare shoulder.
She follows my gaze, her breath catching as she sees the three tiny, luminous creatures.
“Oh,” she breathes, her fear instantly replaced by wonder. “They’re beautiful. Are they... fireflies? They kind of remind me of Bimby.”
“No,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Lumi, those are frostburrow beetles. They only wake when the forest feels a new soul beginning. They only seek out... a mother.”
She stills. The wonder on her face, sharpening into a sudden realization. Her gaze drops from the glowing beetles to my hand, which is still pressed flat against her stomach.
“A mother?” Her voice is so tiny. “Andrik... what are you saying? I thought Rhavari couldn’t procreate.”
“You’re carrying our young, Saelûn.” I choke out a laugh that’s mostly a sob. “The beetles... they’ve come to welcome the heir of the woods. We’re going to have a baby.”
She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me as the weight of my confession settles between us.
Then the tears start to pour.
“... Parents!” she cries. “Andrik, we’re going to be parents!” She looks up, her face wet and glowing, a sudden spark of her usual wit shining through. “Just... hopefully they grow their antlersafterthey’re out of the birth canal.”
I bark a laugh, pulling her into my lap and burying my face in her neck, letting my own tears fall into her hair
“I love you,” I groan. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she whispers, her fingers tangling in the fur at my mating mark. “In every life, Caelen.”
Eventually, the frantic pounding of our hearts begins to slow. I pull a heavy fur around her and pull her back against my chest so we can face the horizon together.
We watch together as the sun finally crests over the canopy, the beetles drifting lazily between us. One lands on my antler, while another settles in her hair.
“I’ve been so tired and nauseous the last few days,” she murmurs. “I thought maybe I was just recovering from the heat.”
“I thought the same,” I admit, my voice still thick. “But I hoped. Every night I watched you sleep, I hoped it might be this.”
She looks up at me, a small, curious smile tugging at her lips.
“A fawnling... is that what you called the baby?"
“I didn’t have a word for it. Cub, pup, kit... none of them felt right. But when I think of us—what we made—all I can see is something small, with your doe eyes and maybe... a tiny set of velvet antlers. A fawnling.”
Her expression softens into something so radiant it rivals the sunrise behind her. “Our little fawnling.”
The frostburrow beetles lift from her shoulder, wings shimmering as they drift lazily between us. One lands on my antler, while another settles on the tip of her nose.
“Frostborn and fierce,” I murmur, covering her hand with mine. “Just like their mother.”
“And stubborn like their father,” she counters.
The peace is absolute... until I feel the first footstep on the edge of the forest. I reach out with my senses, tasting the air, and a familiar scent drifts on the wind. A woman. Alone. Moving through the snow with a purpose that doesn’t belong to the living.
Aureliane. I recognize the scent of the woman who collected Micah.
“Andrik?” Lumi asks, sensing my distraction. “What is it?”
I tighten my hold on her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s nothing, my love. Just someone passing through the shadows.”
I watch the treeline for a moment longer. Whatever she’s looking for, her story is just beginning. Mine is finally complete.
I run my thumb over Lumi’s belly and close my eyes. For the first time in this lifetime, the judge is at rest.
“Dova’saelûn ael’tharavar ves skar. Etra’nai ves kai’lae. Veyr’sal. Virethel. Ael’Solmira ves’thein ael’tara veskae.” (There are twelve soulbonds written across lifetimes.We are the first. The frost. The birch. And in every snowdrop I found you in.)
