Magic and Loss

look me in the eye. “If there’s something you need to say, just tell me. Whatever it is, we can handle it together.”

As I looked into his warm, golden eyes, all the rationalizations I had lined up for why I should keep my big trap shut melted away, and before I knew it the words came bubbling out. “I’m pregnant.”

Hexe leaned back, his cat-slit pupils widening slightly as he absorbed the news. I held my breath, my mouth dry as cotton, as I waited for his reaction. I got it a second later when a wide, goofy smile spread across his face. I was so relieved, I promptly burst into tears.

“What are you grinning about?” I sobbed. “This couldn’t happen at a worse time!”

“I know,” he replied, clumsily dabbing at my tears with the corner of the bedsheet.

“It’s going to change everything forever!”

“Everything has already changed,” he pointed out gently. “But the one thing that is still the same is how I feel about you. I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you, Tate. The Crown of Adon burns above your head—a sign from the ancient gods of Kymera that we are meant for one another.” He picked up my hand and gently kissed its palm. “I am proud to be the father of your child, if that is what you wish.”

Without warning, the hair on my arms stood up and my scalp prickled, and I heard Mr. Manto’s voice, as if he was standing by my side, whispering in my ear, “From two will be one turned three.” I realized that the future was upon me, and it was now time to leave the Crossroads. “And I’m proud to be its mother,” I said, returning his kiss.

I shed my clothes and crawled into bed beside him, snuggling into the shelter of his left arm. As I rested my head on his chest, he kissed the nape of my neck and whispered something in Kymeran in my ear. “What did you just say?” I asked.

“‘You are my forever.’”

“And you are mine,” I smiled. As we embraced, there was suddenly a scrabbling sound from the direction of the fireplace, followed by a small explosion of tar-blackened brick dust. With a startled yowl, a sooty Scratch dropped out of the flue, landing on his butt in the hearth.

“Seven hells!” the winged cat spat in disgust. “What—wasn’t the puppy enough? Now you idiots are going to have a baby? I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised, since you two go at it like a pair of rabbits—!”

“You were eavesdropping on us!” I exclaimed.

“Technically, no, as I was in the chimney, not outside the window. . . .”

“Get out!” Hexe scowled, pointing to the door. “And this time stay out until I call you!”

Scratch trudged out of the bedroom, dragging his tail behind him like a length of wet rope. As the bedroom door closed itself behind him, I glanced up at the owls perched atop the four-poster bed. At least the furniture knew how to keep its mouth shut.

Chapter 10

Luckily, no one in Golgotham is expected to show up either to work or sober the day after Jubilee, so Hexe and I had a grace period to figure out a way to explain his broken hand that wouldn’t result in our friends and family ending up dead. We decided to go with it being the result of a drunken accident, which at least sounded believable.

The first day I was expected back at work, I woke up to discover Hexe no longer in bed beside me. At first I assumed he had gotten up to use the bathroom, but a quick check revealed that he was not there, either. That’s when I heard the sound of crashing crockery downstairs. I hurried down to the kitchen and found Hexe, dressed in only a pair of pajama bottoms, staring forlornly at the remains of what had been, moments before, a ceramic mixing bowl full of egg yolks. Beanie, who knew a bonanza when he saw it, was busily slurping away at the slimy goo as it spread across the linoleum.

“What are you doing down here?” I exclaimed as I scooped up the dog and deposited him on the back porch until I could clean up the mess. “You should still be in bed!”

“You’ve been waiting on me hand and foot, for two days,” Hexe replied. “I just wanted to make breakfast, like I always do.”

“I appreciate that you’re eager to get back into the swing of things,” I said, picking the larger pieces of broken crockery out of the rapidly congealing egg yolks. “But you’re trying to do too much too soon.”

“I need to get back to my old routine as soon as I can—I have it on very good authority that babies aren’t cheap.”

“Yes, but you’re running the risk of making things even worse,” I pointed out. “You’ve got to allow yourself to heal.”

“But having my hand in a splint for several weeks seems so . . . wasteful. Normally I’d use a panacea to heal the soft tissue damage before going to a boneknitter. And if the nerve damage was really bad, I’d book a psychic surgeon to take care of it. My downtime would be three, maybe four days, tops.”

“Granted, this way is slower, but it’s a system that’s worked for us humans for centuries,” I pointed out. “After all, most of us don’t have easy access to Golgotham General. And since these wounds are immune to magic, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to be patient.”

“But we healers are famous for being awful patients.”

“So I’ve noticed.” As I let the dog back in, Beanie ran straight to the spot on the floor I’d just cleaned, frantically sniffing at the linoleum in search of a stray atom of food that might have been missed. “I think it’s really sweet that you want to still fix my breakfast for me, darling, but I can take care of myself. I’d rather you spend your time figuring out an easy way to break the news about the new addition to the Royal Family.”

“Don’t remind me.” He grimaced. “If my renting a room to a human got the Blue Hairs worked into a lather, I can just imagine how that will go over.”

As Hexe left the kitchen, I turned to look at Scratch, who was perched atop the refrigerator, licking his front paw. “Keep an eye on him while I’m at work, will you?” I said, keeping my voice low so as not to be overheard.

“I haven’t been his babysitter in a very long time,” the familiar replied. “But I’ll do what I can. However, if he orders me to leave him alone, there’s nothing I can do. He is my master.”

* * *

As I walked to work, the reality of my situation settled onto my shoulders like a shawl made of lead. Until Hexe regained his dexterity—assuming he recovered it at all—I was the breadwinner for the household. But how much longer would that be? My job at Canterbury Customs was nowhere near as strenuous as banging out horseshoes for Chiron, but it was far from an office job. At some point I would have to take maternity leave, assuming Canterbury didn’t simply fire me once he learned of my condition. As it was, telling my boss I was pregnant would have to wait until Hexe and I broke the news to his family. There is an etiquette to such things, after all.

Canterbury was working the forge as I entered the shop, his flanks shining with sweat. “I see you’ve finally come stumbling back from the Jubilee!” he chided. “And just in time! Bjorn Cowpen’s carriage is ready. I need you to accompany the delivery and handle the paperwork and final payment.”

As Canterbury’s apprentice, I was used to being sent on errands, but this was the first one that went beyond merely being his gofer. The fact he trusted me to collect a payment for him spoke volumes, as he usually was the only one who handled the money from the clients. Since this was a major new step in our working relationship, I felt both proud and a bit nervous about my new responsibility.

About an hour later a centaur claiming to be Cowpen’s chauffeur arrived and hitched himself to the awaiting carriage, which was about as subtle as a circus wagon. The carriage itself was a phaeton, the body of which was painted bright red, with overlarge wheels boasting gilded spokes and custom-designed hubs that bore the initials B.C. The calash top was made of faux–leopard skin, with matching plush velvet seat cushions, and had whirling