Page 60 of Boundless
THE NEXT FEWweeks were surreal for Len. Most of his time was spent drifting among the Istarii Drakan with either Daega or, more increasingly as his wife's pregnancy progressed, his in-laws.
Len's father had spent long hours bemoaning the lack of a singular monarch among the horde, telling him and the council that it only made negotiations that much harder, but obviously that was just another lie Len could add to the pile he was unlearning in the horde's care. The truth of the matter was far more layered and nuanced; Len was also learning that all the most important truths in life kept to that trend. Gayeh and Kevothaen were the closest the horde had to leaders, but they were really just the most public-facing of many leaders, and contrary to what he'd been led to believe, having such a structure actually kept things runningmoresmoothly than the elvish council could ever dream of.
And at the core of it was that the Istariin people saw themselves as one. It didn't matter who your parents or other ancestors were, didn't matter how comely you were, how many jewels or fine clothes you owned—they got down to brass tacks: do you give what you can to your kith and kin, and do you respect their right to live in just as much comfort and safety as you yourself do? By all the fires of Salerah's fury, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to truly get used to it, but it was bloody beautiful.
He was getting ready to walk to the artisan sector of the horde's camp to check in on Ravost and some of the other artists there. He wouldn’t be meeting with Gero, as he’d be done brewing the sacred tea expectant fathers drank later that day. Kevothaen had suggested he commission something that would help ground him during his vision, since the mind tended to wander, and with no male family to guide him outside of his father-in-law and Ravost he might struggle.
He was fastening his pants, admiring Daega still sleeping soundly in their bed, when he realized that when he reached for his belt, his waistband no longer slid down his hips and threatened to fall to the floor.
He gasped, fiddling with the waist and the leg of his pants, and found that the excess material was far less than it had ever been before. He felt a swell of pride and accomplishment; he’d tried so hard for so long to gain weight, and here he was having managed it without even really trying.
Daega's even breaths stuttered, and she rolled over to look at him blearily. "Alright, dove?" she croaked, dark eyes unfocused.
"Yes, s-sorry to wake you, dearest. It's—it's nothing."
She blinked, stifling a huge yawn behind one large, graceful hand. Her eyes roved over his form, drinking in the sight of him greedily despite being barely awake. "You look quite fine today, husband. Where are you off to?"
He grinned, rubbing a hand over the center of his chest—his ribs less jutting and distinct under his fingers, he realized with another little thrill—and sat on the edge of the bed to stroke through the soft fur that covered her lower legs. "The brew's done today. Ravs' p-poem is, too, to go with the p-painting Kascha did."
She hummed, stroking her hand over her swollen belly in time with his hand on her leg. "I hope your vision is a good one. Da's still planning on staying the whole time, aye?"
"Yes. He—he's so kind to do so." Len's throat tightened painfully at the knowledge that it was because his own father wouldn't be there. He’d insisted on the legitimacy of the child in the letter following his father’s callous dismissal, citing that he could detect the child’s heritage with his magic, but it had only angered the king and made him more determined to ignore the truth.It is impossible, Lenlethael, he’d written, the pen gouging into the parchment so hard it almost broke through,Don’t prove everyone’s worst assumptions of you correct and play the fool.
That had stung, as had his father’s acerbic comments about how he’d failed to attend the king’s wedding to his second wife, but Len was firm in this—the child was his, and he had to stay with the horde until his son was born and old enough to travel.
His eyes darted to the small desk on the far side of their tent, where he knew the stack of increasingly antagonistic letters from his father were tucked away alongside Fenris' brief, encoded missives detailing what he'd been able to find since returning to the castle. In the end the elf had left with his other guards—though most, including Rodrick, had told him they’d likely be returning with their families, preferring to be close to him and Daega. Aevel hadn’t left at all, too enmeshed in his relationships to be able to part from them.
Just then Daega gasped and snatched his hand, pulling his attention away from the darkness of his past, pressing his palm to her belly with a grin. "They're having a morning dance, Len," she breathed, and then he felt it—his child, on the other side of her flesh, punching and kicking against their confines. He laughed, scrambling further onto the bed so that he could press both hands to his wife and the life they'd created growing restless inside her.
He closed his eyes and pulled up a thread of aether from his core, weaving it carefully between the bounds of his mate to loop it around their child, checking in on them. "Heartbeat's good. S-strong. Even," he murmured, tears stinging in relief even though it had been the same every time he’d checked. "No pain or discomfort. They—oh. Or,he, actually."
Daega chuckled, jostling his hands and dimming his connection with his offspring for a moment. "Can you see a wee cock?"
"I-I think so," he responded, tracing over their form. With just three weeks left until the due date, the baby looked more like an actual…well,baby,every day. "No sign of hooves. Tail and w-wings are hard to say, because of how he's p-packed in there, but I think Iamseeing h-horn buds." Len swallowed around the lump in his throat, uncaring of the tears now flowing down his face in earnest. "He—he has your strong nose. M-my ears."
Daega sniffled, her warm hands covering his. "What else can you see?"
His brow wrinkled as he concentrated, trying to bring more of his—hisson—into focus. "It's too hard to see the finer details. But a-as far as I can tell he's healthy and strong. And b-beautiful." He could justtell, even if the details of how his son would stun the world were too far in the dark to appreciate.
"Takes after his da, then," Daega said wetly, and Len opened his eyes and climbed over his wife to press himself against her back to hold her. It was less awkward this way, with how far along she was.
"Takes after his mum, m-more like," he said, kissing her temple and cheeks as he swiped away her tears. "Strong and beautiful."
She turned her head, capturing his lips in a tender kiss.
Bloody gods, the way he loved this woman.
"I wish you didn't have to be gone all day for this," she pouted once they came up for air, and he groaned, pressing his forehead to the base of her horn.
"Ugh, I kn-know. I don't want to be away from you f-for even a second. But your father was clear this is a sacred thing. A-and Idowant to do it."
She smiled. "You can already spy on our wee bairn with your elf magic. What else can you possibly want, you greedy thing?"
He nipped at her shoulder, then kissed the bite to soothe it.
"They were saying it's more like a vision of his life. W-what sort of a person he'll be, what his life might l-look like. And I—I'm hopeful. That the vision will be g-good. Full of love and light."
Daega rolled onto her back with a groan, cupping her belly with one hand and his face with the other. "I think it will be. Becausewe'reto be his parents. And we're going to tear this world down so we can build a better one for him." Her kiss was passionate, full of fire and honey, and soon he was forgetting all about appointments and commitments, his hand between her thighs and her cries of pleasure searing themselves into his very soul.
