Page 74 of Storm to Victory
He’d been terrified the first time he’d come into his magic, and it had lashed wildly out of his control. But the moment his dacha had enfolded Fieran’s magic within his, Fieran had sensed the vast, far greater strength found there. He’d never worried after that, secure in the knowledge that his dacha—and his macha with his dacha’s magic—would always be there to keep his magic in check while he was still learning.
“As you contemplate getting married and, someday, having children of your own, you will need to consider how to handle the reality of raising a child with the magic of the ancient kings.” Dacha’s voice went slightly rough, the pink flush to the tips of his ears giving away his discomfort at bringing up these topics.
Fieran’s own ears burned, and he shifted in his seat. “Pip is essentially immune to my magic.”
“Yes.” For the first time in the discussion, Dacha glanced at him with a hint of a smile playing across his mouth. “She is a good match for you, sason.”
Fieran blew out a breath, shaking his head as his own smile returned. “You’re just wondering what kind of magical mutants we’ll end up with, combining her unique magic with the magic of the ancient kings.”
“Yes.” Dacha’s smile broadened. After a moment he sighed and shook his head. “You are going to make me a dachasheni before I am even two hundred.”
“Don’t rush things. I’m not even engaged yet.” Fieran slouched deeper in his seat, his knees knocking against the wooden dashboard.
“I will not turn two hundred for another twenty-five years yet. That should be more than sufficient time.” Dacha’s grin betrayed the humor beneath his sternly serious tone.
“If you want grandchildren so much, talk to Merrik and Adry. The way they’re going, they’re probably going to beat Pip and me to both marriage and kids.” Fieran grinned. The thought didn’t itch at him the way it had before.
Dacha snorted, a twist of agreement to his smile.
Fieran’s smile faded. “Merrik isn’t immune to Adry’s magic.”
While Merrik’s plant magic was decently strong, it wasn’t nearly as strong as Uncle Weylind’s. He didn’t have any chance of holding back even the weakest tendrils of the magic of the ancient kings.
“No, he is not.” Dacha’s smile vanished in a blink, that hardness back in his eyes. “If they should have children with the magic of the ancient kings, they will face more difficulties than you and Pip. But Adry will be able to contain the magic. As can the rest of us. Their children will not be alone.”
Not as Dacha had been, he meant.
Still, after hearing what Dacha had gone through—the pain he still carried from the knowledge that he’d burned his father and brother while coming into his magic—Fieran couldn’t help the tension tightening his chest.
After a long beat of silence, Dacha shook his head again, a trace of his smile returning. “It will be good to have a generation grow up actually knowing their dachasheni.”
Fieran nodded, trying not to think about all the grandparents he’d missed out on knowing.
He’d had his grandmother on his mother’s side for his younger years, but she’d been gone by the time Tryndar was born. At least they all still had Machasheni Leyleira, who was Dacha’s grandmother, but she was the only elven grandparent they’d had until she and Taranath married a few years ago.Taranath had already been filling the role of dachasheni even before he’d officially become theirs.
Even then, Fieran had grown up with far more family than his dacha had. He, at least, had both parents. He’d had two grandmothers. He had aunts, uncles, and cousins in abundance.
Still, there were gaps in the generations. Missing pieces that couldn’t fully be filled.
What would it be like for Fieran’s children, growing up with both parents, all their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, several generations deep?
“Yes, it will be.” Fieran glanced at his dacha, still thrown by the sight of him with short hair and wearing a Mongavarian uniform. His parents would make excellent grandparents. Young as they were, they’d likely see their grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and possibly even great-great-grandchildren.
If Dacha survived the war. If they all survived this war.
Fieran would have to make sure he did, despite the fact that he would sacrifice his soul, his life, and even his hair, for his children. Dacha needed to be there for Ellie, Tryndar, and all the future grandchildren he might have.
Enough serious topics. Fieran shot a grin at his dacha. “Just no more siblings, okay? I don’t want any siblings younger than my own children.”
Dacha raised his eyebrows. “There was some discussion on whether we wanted five children or seven…”
“Dacha…” Fieran’s ears were burning. “Never mind. Forget I brought it up.”
Still grinning, Dacha slowed the truck and pulled it off to the side of the road. The truck jounced over a few ruts, but there weren’t deep ditches here.
“Wha—” There came a few other indecipherable moans and mutterings from Aaruk as he woke up to the bouncing and bumping.
Dacha pulled the truck behind a stand of trees and scrub brush. “This will do for the night.”
