Page 66 of Boundless
It wound up being rather lucky he'd decided to undertake such an unusual parental role, because as the weeks rolled on, Daega's supply dried up.
"It happens, sometimes," Yollyn had told her, carefully massaging Daega's chest and armpits to feel for disease. "Some ur jus’ unlucky, an’ yer mum struggled t’ provide a wee bit n’all, though we were able t’ improve it wi’ a special diet in th’ end. Dae ye want t’ try it?"
Daega'd pursed her lips, her eyes darting to Len's. He was rubbing Drokas' back through the sling he used to keep his son tied against his body during the day. He lived for when it was his turn to do so, the soft warm weight of a baby snuggled into his body and making sweet little noises possibly his favorite feeling in the world, now. Plus it meant he could lean down and sniff his son's delicious baby smell whenever he wanted. "Do you think I need to, Granny?"
The older woman shrugged. "Frankly, if ye're fine wi’ it A'd jus’ hev Len handle th’ feedings exclusively. Th’ babe's ainlie gunna need tae nurse fur another few months, an’ Len's producing plenty." Len was staggered, and more than a little sad, at just how quickly the Istarii Drakan developed. It meant he would have almost no time at all to enjoy his son being a baby.
"I don't m-mind, love," he assured Daega, secretly thrilled. It meant he'd have more of an excuse to keep his son glued to him.
Daega bit her lip. "You really don't mind?"
"Not at all. I qu-quite like it." He was already frantic that his son, at four months, was as developed as an elven child of a year; he was desperate to savor this time, and he reckoned this was a wonderful opportunity to do so.
When they were in their tent that night Daega grew distressed, turning to him with tear-filled eyes. "Does this make me a poor mother?" she sobbed, looking down at Drokas asleep in his basket, full lips lax and wet. "I mean, I'm supposed to—to have all thesefeelings, aren't I? I'm supposed to be upset that I can't nurse, not fuckingrelieved."
He'd pulled her into his arms, his heart breaking at her uncertainty.
"I think the only imp-portant question is whether you still love him, wh-which I know you do." She sniffled, nodding.
"Of c-course I do," she rasped. He frowned, swiping tears off her cheeks with his thumbs.
"Then that's all that matters. I think—I think you just like your body t-to be your own. But he doesn't n-need your body, he needs your love. Your guidance. And I-I know you'll give that freely." He'd thought about this quite a lot, since he'd made the decision to help with the nursing. "And I...I really like this part, the connection of it. I'm actually sort of...sort ofgladthat you don't like it as much, b-because that lets me get greedy."
She laughed, tears still leaking from her endless black eyes. "You're just saying that, you mad thing."
"Not at all. I r-really do love it that much."
She swallowed, then pulled him into a tight hug. "My Len," she groaned, flattening his breasts against her chest, back to being compact and hard with muscle already, with her milk supply gone. "My beautiful miracle."
THE ONLY DARKspot in those early days of parenthood was that Fenris had still not returned, and it had been long weeks since they'd gotten word from him. Len feared the worst: that he'd either been discovered and murdered for treason, or had abandoned them. But he thought it unlikely that Fenris would have betrayed him, the quiet and closed-off elf steady in his loyalty and firm in his moral code—even being a part of the initial conspiracy proved it, Fenris having been convinced it was the best for the nation to see Len disposed of. Though if they'd been found out, then surely Haedelon would have made a move.
But it had been quiet. Peaceful aside from his looming fears. Guards patrolled the camps around the clock, and not a one ever had anything strange to report.
He often wondered, when it was just him up in the deep night with Drokas, feeding him or cleaning him up, if the silence was actually proof that something was wrong, that his fatherwasup to something.
He brought up his concerns in his defense meetings, and everyone seemed to agree it was suspicious...but with all that was going on they were hesitant to kick the hornet's nest and invite attention. The plan was to set an example for peace, after all.
So he did his best to put it out of his mind, to focus on the new life he was building among the Istarii Drakan. Vitrin's breaths lingered more and more as the days went on, meaning they'd be packing up and moving foothills to winter any day now.
He'd found so much peace and contentment among the horde. They'd accepted him and his former guards—permanent residents of the camps now to a one, the two with family eventually returning with their partners and children in tow.
There were plans to coax more intermingling between the elves and the Istarii Drakan. He was drafting a proposal for the Istariin half of the exchange program with Maleom, and with Rodrick, former captain of the guard and the first elf to return to the horde after leaving it, he was fleshing out his cultural education program to let it travel the realm.
But he'd been right not to trust the quiet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Quiet Breaks
DAEGA
ONE DAY, deep in the month of Gishta, Daega awoke all alone in her bed to Drokas wailing. Normally, once the days started cooling and growing longer she'd find it difficult to emerge from the warm cocoon of blankets and Len's delicate, leanly muscled limbs, but some instinct roused her immediately.
"Len?" she called, going to Drokas and hefting him from his basket to rock him and soothe him. When her husband failed to respond to her call, trepidation squeezed her ribs, ratcheting up her pulse.
She changed Drokas' soiled diaper and cleaned his pale gray skin with a damp rag in lieu of a full bath, then hurriedly got herself ready while he whimpered and fussed in his basket. She knew she needed to be calm, that she was only making things worse and upsetting her son, besides.
But Len never left without letting her know first. Something was wrong.
