The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four (19 page)

Uriel, one of the oldest of the Forgiven, was also the one who granted the gift of life. Unlike the humans, who could become pregnant easily, Irina rarely conceived without magic. Though it did happen, an Irina most often sang Uriel’s Petition before she and her mate wanted to conceive. One of the most ancient spells, it called on the magic of the Forgiven to bless a union with a child. Most couples only had one or two children, though mates could be together for hundreds of years. It was the blessing and the curse of their long lives.

“Sing it with me.” Tala’s face shone. “We are here. Together in this place. Who knows when either of us could be moved by new orders. Think of it, Sari. We could share this joy as sisters.”

Sari’s heart ached. She could see Tala and her, swollen with child, laughing with shared joy and expectation. Damien and Gabriel, proudly presenting the new babes to the elders of the village, brushing spells for newborns over their soft skin. Cousins born close together were rare and treasured.

“Please, Sari.”

Tears threatened her eyes. “I’ll think on it, Tala. I promise.”

“You said that last year. You’ve thought about it long enough. I know my sister. We might never get another reprieve like this. Grigori attacks are rare. The retreat is stable and flourishing. The Paris house has more than enough scribes to cover the city and patrol the village. Even the humans make noises about truces and peace.”

Sari’s heart sped when she considered Tala’s words. Could she? Should she? “I can’t just… decide like that. I have to think.”

“You think too much!” her sister said. “You debate every decision like you were on the council itself. You argue with Damien. Argue with Gabriel. Argue with
me
. For once, Sari, what does your heart say?”

“Yes,” she blurted out. “My heart says yes.”

Tala’s smile glowed like the sun. “Then don’t you think you should follow it?”

Her heart raced. Nerves? Excitement? “Yes?”

“Sing with me,” Tala said, gripping both her hands. “Let us share this joy. Don’t let duty rule everything in our lives, sister. We deserve happiness too.”

“Yes.” Now that Sari had said it, it seemed so much easier to say it a second time. And a third. She felt peace. Her own smile grew, though it couldn’t be as incandescent as Tala’s. “Yes, I’ll… I’ll talk to Damien tonight.”

Tala threw her arms around Sari’s neck. “He won’t say no.”

“You know this could take years, don’t you?” Her pragmatic mind couldn’t help but creep in. “There is no guarantee that you and I will be pregnant together.”

“I know.” Tala wiped her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “But I hope it doesn’t. I hope we can share this. Even if our babies are a few years apart, they will grow to be the best of friends.”

※

Sari lay in their bed in the village, watching Damien undress and perform his ritual prayers. He carefully washed his body in the small basin and dried himself with clean linen, his talesm glowing faintly with magic as he spoke. A few drops of water lingered on his back, rolling slowly down the hard ridges of muscle on either side of his spine. She read the ancient magic of the family marks his father had tattooed on him, dark and elaborate with medieval grandeur. Damien’s family was old and his line one of Mikael’s purest blood. The dense spells covering his body seemed to move and surge as he prayed.

Sari closed her eyes and smiled.

Her mate’s low voice murmuring prayers had become Sari’s nightly lullaby, as soothing as the songs her mother and grandmother had sung through her childhood. She loved Damien’s voice and often thought it was a tragedy that his magic could not be sung. When he joined his voice with hers, it brought her to tears. When she closed her eyes and listened to his soul, she knew what heaven sounded like.

“What has brought that smile to your face,
milá
?” Damien sat on the end of the large bed he’d made especially for their home in the village. Both of them were tall. Here, they had a bed they could roll in, and Sari and Damien took full advantage of it. “Hmm?”

She kept her eyes closed and felt the bed dip as he crawled up to her, biting her thigh, brushing his lips over her belly, nibbling at her throat. Neither of them slept in nightclothes except in the coldest of winters, so every inch of him was exposed to every inch of her. She tried not to giggle, but he teased her neck mercilessly.

“What has given my Sari laughter today?” he said.

“You.”

He stretched out next to her, leisurely reacquainting his mouth with the soft skin he knew so well. “If I have given you joy, then my day was well spent. But please, acquaint me with this success so that I may repeat it.”

She put her palm to his rough cheek and pressed him closer, her heart suddenly seizing with the depth of love she felt for him. He was everything she’d never been able to dream. The desire of her heart. Her true mate. On days she wasn’t able to see him because of duty or travel, she felt half alive.

“I love you so much, Damien.”

He lifted his head and his eyes were soft. “What is it, love?”

They’d talked of it endlessly, but on the night she let her heart surrender, Sari felt shy. What if he’d changed his mind? He hadn’t brought up the subject of children in almost a year. Because he’d given up on her or had decided that waiting was wise?

“I know the words,” she said softly. “I think I’ve known them forever. But will you sing Uriel’s Petition with me?”

For a moment his whole body froze, then his mouth was on hers with such passion, such raw desire, that Sari felt like she’d been transported back to the barley field where they had first kissed.

“Truly?” he asked when he came up for air. “Truly,
milá
?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?” He didn’t seem to believe her.

Sari knew in that moment how much he’d held back his own desire for a family.

“Truly, truly, truly.” She pushed him to his back and knelt over him, peppering his face with kisses. “I want a child so much, Damien.
Your
child. Tala and I spoke today, and she’s right. There will never be the perfect time, but we are more than duty. Our life, our family, should not stop.”

“My love.” He brushed her long hair back from her face and twisted it around his fist, drawing her down to meet his mouth. He had tears in his eyes. “I am blessed by the heavens to call you my mate.”

“I kept you waiting long enough.” She put a finger on his mouth when he opened it to protest. “Not that I have decided this because you pressured me. You have been the picture of patience, and I am grateful.”

He put a hand low on her belly. “Sari of Vestfold will carry my child.” He smiled, and she saw a hint of the arrogant warrior he sometimes allowed to peek through. “Our child.”

Damien should rightly have been arrogant—he was a warrior of fierce reputation, legendary bloodlines, and meticulous training—but he’d never carried himself as such. She asked him once why he pursued humility, and her mate told her he’d seen far greater warriors die when it should have been him. He was too grateful, he said, to be proud.

“I will carry your child, Damien of Bohemia”—the corner of her mouth curved up—“but you’ll have to bed me first.”

He rolled them over and pressed his hips between her legs. She could feel him, already hard and eager. Damien hooked her long leg over his forearm and spread her thighs wider.
 

His voice was rough when he spoke. “Sing, then.”

She was breathless with wanting him. “Like this?”

“Just like this.” His mouth hovered over hers. His teeth nipped at her lower lip. His voice whispered decadence. “
Sing
.”

Sari took a deep breath and felt her breasts press against his chest. His low rumble of a voice joined hers when she began the ancient song. She felt the magic swell and grow between them, and their mating marks lit.

First of the forgiven

Giver of life

Father of our people

We pray…

The heat remained in his eyes, but Damien’s hand was soft at her cheek. He was propped on his elbows, his body covering hers like a blanket. Sari was reminded of the Hebrew poetry of the great King Solomon: “He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.”

As heaven’s waters meet the earth

Let our union reflect creation

Let us bring forth life

She felt him between her legs, tormenting her, arousing her. She was panting for him when she finished the song.

For the glory of heaven

Uriel, father of heaven,

First of the Forgiven

Bless us with new life.

At the final words of the song, Damien thrust into her, sealing their union with a savage kiss. He rose up and surged forward, the magic lighting the talesm on his arms until they glowed like twin columns of silver fire. Sari threw her head back and closed her eyes, letting the power of his possession overwhelm her senses. The scent of magic and sweat. The taste of his skin and touch of his mouth. Their love had never been a soft thing. Though his tenderness could overwhelm her, theirs was a union of blood and bone.

I will carry his child.

Her heart grew until it ached in her chest. The love she held for Damien, a love she had thought consumed her, grew impossibly bigger. Deeper. Sank into her bones as she contemplated a new life growing from their union.

Uriel, give us this life
, she prayed.

And give us eternity.

※

Six months later

The Paris scribe house was humming with energy and the sounds of happy brothers. Two of the warriors had been given permission to bring their mates into the city for the month, and Sari and Tala had welcomed the sisters, who were both easy, cheerful women. One was an excellent cook and the other was an earth singer like Sari who was determined to bring the neglected kitchen garden back to fruitful life.

Tala leaned over to Sari at breakfast. “You’re pregnant.”

Sari’s eyes widened. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

She shut up when she heard the determined tone. Sari had stopped arguing with Tala about certain things when they were ten years old. Anytime Tala used that tone, it wasn’t a time to argue.

“How do you know?”

A smile flirted at her sister’s lips. “Because I had a dream last night.”

Sari leaned forward. “I didn’t hear you. Are you well? Did Gabriel—”

“I wasn’t sick.” Tala’s face was glowing. “Not even a little. Maybe Leoc knows that I am with child too.”

Sari’s hand shot out and gripped Tala’s wrist. “Truly?”

Her sister laughed. “Now you sound like Gabriel when I told him I wanted us to try.”

“I cannot dare to hope. Are you certain? I feel no different, though I watch for signs every month.”

“I’m certain.” Tala knit their fingers together.

It had only been a few months. Her courses were late, but they had never followed a strict schedule. Though she and Damien had been spending themselves like new mates, Sari hadn’t expected anything to happen so quickly. But Tala wouldn’t tell her such a thing if she wasn’t sure.

She let the smile break through. “I should tell Damien.”

Tala laughed. “Wait until he’s finished his meeting with Gabriel, and then we will both steal them away from their duties. It’s been quiet lately, and Gabriel has just returned. His watcher will not begrudge him a few hours of celebration.”

Sari glanced at the locked door of the library. Gabriel had returned from Spain last night, his face grim with worry or exhaustion. Sari couldn’t tell which. He and Damien had been cloistered in the library before dawn broke.

“Did he tell you anything?”

Tala shook her head. “He had ridden all day. He fell into bed without even taking a bath. I do think there was something troubling him, but he wanted to speak to Damien first.”

When the door to the library finally opened, Damien was the one at the door.

“Seer,” he called to Tala. “Sari. A moment with both of you.”

Damien calling Tala by her title told Sari the business of the scribe house waited. She and Tala took seats in the library, though Gabriel was quick to pull Tala onto the chaise beside him. Sari sat in the chair across from Damien at the table.

“What has happened?” Sari asked.

Damien looked at Gabriel.

“You know I spent the past month traveling,” he said. “I’ve noticed a growing trend that troubles me, and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Tell us,” Sari said. “Perhaps another perspective may help.”

When it came to strategy, Sari was an amateur compared to Damien. But often her mate’s vast experience left him closed-minded to unexpected moves.

“We know what has happened in Paris. A growing Grigori population, but with none of the subsequent attacks on the humans. This has left us… stymied.”

Because the stated mandate of the Irin Council was that no Irin could take action against a Grigori unless that son of the Fallen was threatening humans. It infuriated Sari. Did one wait until a fox broke into the chicken coop to drive the predator away? Nevertheless, the mandate had been the governing rule of their race since before Sari had been born.