Page 122 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
When Rían asked them that a year ago, it had never been a question in either her or Tyghan’s head. They had nodded to their son in unison, and then Tyghan got down on one knee to make it official, but she and Rían were both saying yes, even before he could get the question out. And then they had all hugged, Rían sandwiched between them, and even Tyghan cried.
“Hey.” A gentle whisper. A kiss on her shoulder. “I’m going to start dinner soon.” And then his lips brushed hers. “Ready?”
“Always ready for you. But shouldn’t we get dinner on first?” He laughed and she pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him leisurely, appreciating every touch, never taking a day—or a kiss—for granted.
Sashka’s voice broke through the calm. “Dear gods! Will you two ever get a room?”
“Don’t encourage them,” Melizan said. “That’s what got her into her last predicament.”
“Dinner will be on soon,” Tyghan told them. “Why don’t you two run along?”
“Better hurry,” Melizan said. “Dalagorn’s stomach is growling and I think he’s about to eat one of the children.” She rushed off after her toddler, who was drinking out of Reggie’s water bowl over on the porch.
“You come along too, freeloader,” Tyghan said to Reggie, who lay curled at Bristol’s feet. After she left Elphame, Tyghan fed Reggie a snack every day, and then brought him along when he moved to Oak Leaf Lane. Reggie stretched and got to his feet, never one to turn down a treat.
Melizan shrieked as she pulled the toddler from the bowl, but it melded with all the other noise of children playing, dishes clattering, and Harper yelling for Jake to get more ice. “Family,” Tyghan said, but Bristol heard his heart swell with the word.
When she and Tyghan walked over to get dinner underway, they found Quin scratching his head as he looked into the fiery dome that would cook their meals. “What did you call this thing again?” he asked.
“A pizza oven,” Tyghan answered. He discovered that he loved pizza on his first day in Bowskeep, and insisted on having his own oven. “Choose your toppings and I’ll make you one.”
Quin perused the dishes full of olives, pepperoni, and salami. “Nah. It’s all round. I don’t eat round stuff.”
“Oh come on, you old coot,” Rose said, not the least bit timid anymore. Apparently eight years of defending the realm had shaken that out of her. “Try something new. You won’t die!”
“I promise you, Quin,” Jake said, “Tyghan makes a mean pizza.” Harper’s husband took his unusual new family in stride, even the enormous and intimidating Dalagorn. Harper had married a winner. She beamed not far away, loving the chaos of a large family.
Quin remained skeptical, and Hollis elbowed him. “Mean means good. Be a good example for your children.” They had two now, adorable little boys who stared at him, waiting to see what he would do. Under Hollis’s stern stare, he reluctantly began piling his pizza with round stuff. After it was cooked, he devoured it and made a second one, reluctant to admit that it was delicious.
There was plenty of other food to eat too, though. Everyone brought something to share. They all sat around their long farm table, Rían and his cousins at one end, their eyes like saucers, as Rose, Avery, and Cael entertained them with amusing magics. Cael was perhaps the most changed of everyone. As Avery observed, he was comfortable in his own skin now, not trying to prove anything to anyone, and his duties as king were tailored to his strengths.
“Hey, everyone, look who’s awake!” Eris called out. “Come meet the newest member of the family.” He walked down the back porch steps with his granddaughter tenderly tucked in his arms, Catarina Trénallis Keats. Julia was at his side, both of them cooing over her.
“Looks like he stole our thunder,” Tyghan whispered. Bristol knew he didn’t mind and he loved seeing the pride in his father’s face, but it was also the healing that Bristol saw in Eris’s expression, and maybe that healed a part of her too. Catarina was the first child or grandchild Eris had ever gotten to announce to the world. But she wouldn’t be his last.
Tyghan put his arm around Bristol, pulling her close as they watched everyone oohing and ahhing over their precious daughter. “Do you think she’s bloodmarked?” Tyghan asked. A protective glint lit his eyes. Catarina was only a week old. They hadn’t discussed the possibility yet, but it was something they had to consider.
“She will be whatever she is meant to be.” A passionate blaze ignited behind Bristol’s sternum. The enormous power of both beast and mother. “And we will protect her, until she is old enough to protect herself.”
Julia brought Catarina over and kissed Bristol’s cheek as she laid the baby in Bristol’s arms. “She is beautiful, Your Majesty, just like her mother.” She glanced over at Tyghan and winked. “And her father too.”
Bristol looked down at Catarina, her baby’s eyes swallowing her whole. She’d thought her heart was already full after she had Rían, but that was the miracle of hearts—they were limitless in what they could hold.
The wonder of it all made Bristol think about chance, about a long-ago letter in her mailbox, a meeting at an abandoned inn, and finding a forgotten timemark in a backpack. A million chances happened every day. The difference was what we made of them. She and Tyghan didn’t let this chance slip past them. Day by day, they fiercely claimed it, and were turning their chance into something that would last forever.
