Page 141 of Destined Dawn
“The bond.”
She nods, her hands resting over her belly. “It’s pretty handy.”
I rest my hand on top of hers and electricity skates between us at the contact. For the first time, I can see a future. A proper future – one where we’re happy and safe and I’m laying my hand over her rounded belly, full with our child. Or maybe Spencer’s. Or Azlan’s. I can taste that future now.
“Is it really over?” she asks, threading her fingers through mine.
“It is, Piglet. In fact, there’s one hell of a party starting up out there.”
“A party?” she asks, sitting up straight.
“You’re too weak to go to a party. You need to rest and–”
“Tristan Kennedy,” she says, “I missed out on a shed-load of parties on account of all the running and hiding from the authorities. I didn’t even get to party at the last Founders’ Night.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I mumble.
“And so I’m not missing out on another party now, even if you have to carry me around all night.”
“Gladly.”
She grins at me. “Got anymore of those nice dresses, Tristan Kennedy?”
“Actually, I’m thinking of changing that.”
“Changing what? Your name?”
“Yes, my name.”
“What to?”
“I dunno, but I kinda thought Tristan Blackwaters had a neat ring to it.”
She grins even wider. “You know it does. I like it.”
“Sort of cool and mysterious.”
“Unlike you, but, hey.” She shrugs.
“Hey!” I say, diving in to tickle her. And then I’m kissing her and her arms wrap around my neck and I’m so happy I could fucking explode.
“I haven’t forgotten about that party,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“Just five more minutes … resting,” I say. I kiss her harder. “Actually, make that ten.”
I beg,steal and borrow and eventually I find a dress worthy of her. Okay, it’s not like the one I gave her for the Victory Ball, not like the one she wore at the feast in the West, but damn it looks good on her. Something that scoops down low at her cleavage, nips in at the waist and then floats out in netting and shit.
She loves it. Winnie loves it. Spencer most definitely loves it. Unfortunately there’s no hope of actually getting to enjoy the dress up close and personal.
Everyone wants a piece of her tonight. To hug her, to thank her, to talk with her.
The party has spilled out into the academy gardens. Thewinter chill has thawed. There’s the first hint of spring’s warmth in the air tonight, the first buds of blossom on the trees and flowers beginning to poke their heads through the soil.
I follow her around like a love-sick puppy – we all do – just as goddamn entranced by her as we always are.
At some point I find myself next to Coach. He’s nursing a bottle of beer and he has a bandage strapped to his forehead.
“Who’s guarding my dad?” I ask him. The sooner they’ve sent him to the Northern Labor Camps – where I’m sure he’ll be meeting many of the prisoners he sent up there himself – the better.
