“The mortling is crowning,” Calix says, his voice calm.
I’m not calm, though. I’m rekking losing my mind with worry.
“Listen, Grace,” Avrell says in a soft voice. “You’ll feel the pains and when they’re the strongest, that’s when you need to push. When the pains ease up, then you can rest. It’ll take several hard pushes to get the mortling out.”
“Based on the size on the wegloscan,” Calix explains, “you may have to push really hard.” He flicks his gaze my way. “The mortling has its father’s nog.”
Grace looks up at me and glowers. “Figures.”
Jareth smiles at me in an encouraging way the moment my face falls in horror.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Grace. I hate that her delivery will be more difficult because of me.
Her eyes suddenly water and she shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. That was mean. I’m just hurting and took it out on you.”
I let out a rush of relieved breath. “You can do this, brave Grace. We’re right here with you.”
She nods before turning her attention to Avrell. “Owwwwww.”
“Now,” Calix urges. “Push now.”
Grace bears down, a guttural scream clawing its way up her throat. She lets it loose—feral and crazed as her face turns bright red. Emery places a cool cloth on her forehead and whispers that she’s doing a great job. When the pain passes, Grace relaxes and sobs.
“I can’t do this,” she moans. “It hurts too bad—oh fuck!”
She curls around her stomach again, her face turning purple this time, as she pushes.
“Black hair,” Avrell barks out. “I can see dark hair. You’re doing great, Grace.”
Another wave of pain hits her and she screams again. It’s possible she’s breaking the bones in my hand, but I don’t mind. I’d gladly break all my bones if it helped her deliver our mortling.
“Emery,” Avrell bellows. “Hand me the suctionette.”
Emery hands him a tool and then he does something that makes a sucking sound.
“Oh my God,” Emery cries out, her hand flying to her mouth.
“What?” Jareth, Grace, and me all belt out at once.
“I’ve never seen anything so miraculous and beautiful. When I delivered Hophalix, I didn’t get to experience this side. The head is out, Grace. Your baby is almost here.” Emery lets out a choked sob.
Grace, more determined than before, bears down and pushes again. It takes several more bouts of pain and pushing and then Avrell grunts as he collects the mortling in his arms.
Jareth and I both gape at it in awe.
“This is…” Avrell chokes on his emotion. “This is the first female born of our faction in a very long time.”
Female?
“A little girl?” Grace whispers.
“You did this,” I tell her with pride. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”
Her bottom lip wobbles as Emery wraps the mortling in a blanket and then hands her to her mother. Jareth and I lean in close to inspect the perfect little being.
“She has your pout,” Jareth says to me, amusement in his tone. “Rekk, she’s perfect.”
“Sareth Gracyn,” Grace says. “Do you like that name?”
Jareth and I both nod. “Beautiful like her mother.”
***
It’s been hours since Sareth was born and Grace has fallen into a deep sleep. Now that Sareth has fed from her mother’s breast, Jareth and I have settled in side-by-side chairs across the room to marvel over the newest mortling in the faction.
Our mortling.
It’s miraculous as Emery had said.
I’m still amazed that this living, breathing precious thing belongs to us. We’re responsible for raising her to be strong like her parents.
“I love her,” I tell Jareth. “I only thought I loved her before. Then, she looked up at me and she sucked the breath right out of me. It’s surreal.”
Jareth chuckles. “I love her too. It’s so rekking cool she has your lips.”
“For Grace’s sake, let’s hope she doesn’t have your teeth.”
He bares his double fangs at me. “What’s wrong with my teeth?”
“You’re vicious.”
“You like it when I’m vicious.”
“That’s beside the point.”
We both laugh and Sareth jumps, scrunching her face. When she frowns, she looks just like Grace, which is adorable. I stroke my fingers through her black hair that matches mine and she calms again.
“One day,” I mutter aloud, “Sokko and Hophalix will be her friends. Who knows…one day they could be her mates.”
Jareth growls. “She’ll never have a mate.”
“And why’s that?” I ask in astonishment.
“What if her mate is mean to her? What if he doesn’t treat her like the princess she is?”
Irritation burns through me. “I see your point. No mate. Ever.”
“Especially not two,” Jareth says grumpily.
“I wonder if we could fix up a reform cell and keep her in there. Then Sokko and Hophalix would keep their grubby little hands to themselves.”
“I like the way you think, mate,” Jareth says, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me to him for a kiss.
Sareth makes a happy sigh and I smile against Jareth’s mouth. When we pull apart, I notice Grace staring at us. Her eyes are hard and her lips are pressed together, making a firm line. Shuffling Sareth into Jareth’s arms, I rise and walk over to Grace.