Endure - Sara B. Larson Page 0,110

had warned me about Armando’s threat to burn his way through Antion, but I hadn’t truly believed it possible, until we saw the devastation ourselves when we returned. Armando had not only burned his way through the jungle — he’d looted and burned down a large portion of the palace as well.

But the jungle is tenacious, and it has already grown back to its former lushness — all except for the trees. It will take many more years before the trees that were destroyed grow back. But for now, Alexa doesn’t seem to mind as much as I do. She says she likes seeing more of the sky, that it reminds her to live the best life that she can to honor the sacrifices that were made so that we have this life to enjoy.

“Did you need something?” she finally asks.

“Do I need an excuse to come hug and kiss my beautiful wife?”

She turns in my arms, her pregnant belly coming between us. “You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“No, you can’t. I fooled you for years,” I tease her. “But in this case, I’m not lying. You are beautiful.”

Worry lines still crease her forehead, pulling down over her hazel eyes.

“What is it?” I ask.

She shakes her head and turns back to the window. “What … what if I’m not a good mother?”

“What?”

I spin her around to face me again, and she grimaces. “What do I know about taking care of a baby? When he gets old enough to hold a sword, then I’ll be good for something. But until then …” She shrugs, and I have to smother my laugh, turning it into a cough. But she isn’t fooled and slaps my arm. “I’m being serious,” she insists.

“You will be an amazing mother, just like you are amazing at everything you put your mind to,” I assure her, bending forward to kiss her once, twice. I mean for them to be brief, but she softens into my arms, and I can’t resist her. Her mouth opens beneath mine, and I pull her closer, my fingers tangling in her long hair, which she wears loose today, hanging down her back. Finally, we breathlessly break apart.

“You know, that’s what got me in this whole mess to begin with,” she points out, her eyes alight with a teasing glint that I love almost more than any other expression she makes.

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean. Maybe you should show me, so I can fully understand.”

She just shakes her head and puts one hand on her belly.

“Is she moving?”

“Yes, he is.”

She guides my hand to where our unborn child stretches against her skin, pressing a hand or foot into my palm. “You know, I was thinking, when our daughter is born, we could name her after our mothers.”

“Nialah Olara,” she muses out loud. “Hmmm, I like that.” She moves my hand lower, to where the baby has rolled and continues to move beneath her skin. “And if I’m right and it’s a boy?”

She looks up into my eyes, still smiling. But this is the real reason I came to find her. I’d been sitting in my office, going through some missives from King Osgand and General Tinso, who was found bound in a Dansiian dungeon and who returned to his castle shortly after our victory. The loss of his son was a terrible blow, but he is holding up rather well, considering. He still has Lisbet and his nephew, Jax, who often go to stay with him so he isn’t always alone in his big castle in Blevon — though they are returning soon, as neither of them can wait to meet the new baby, and they both want to be here for the birth. As I was reading through their messages, I’d suddenly thought of our baby — how he or she would be born into a world of peace, instead of war and bloodshed as Alexa and I had been. And I’d suddenly realized what we should name our son, if we are given a boy this time.

“I was thinking we could name him Marcel Rylan,” I say quietly.

Alexa’s smile slips as her arms curl protectively around her belly. “Marcel Rylan,” she repeats in a whisper. “That’s perfect.”

I lift my hands to her jaw, tilting her chin up so I can look into her face. “Are you sure?”

She nods, and when she finally meets my gaze, I see the tears swimming in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to