I knew I was pregnant before my body had even begun to show. This time was the total opposite of carrying Ravin’s cubs. Instead of glowing vitality and endless hunger, I had morning sickness that turned my stomach at the slightest movement, and the smell of certain foods, foods I normally loved, sent me running for the privy with my hand clamped over my mouth.
I found Leon in the side yard, hunched over a block of wood, his carving knife moving with steady, practiced strokes. He was shaping another shelf for the house, his fierce concentration softened by the domestic task, wood shavings scattered around his feet like golden snow. I waited for him to finish the groove he was cutting, then caught his arm, pulling him aside.
"I’m pregnant," I said simply.
Leon’s face transformed. The fierce warrior vanished, replaced by a male who looked like he had just been handed the sun. He let out a whoop that scattered birds from the nearby trees, then scooped me up, spinning me in a circle before setting me down and sprinting toward the elder’s dwelling.
"Wait here!" he called over his shoulder. "Don’t move!"
I laughed, shaking my head, and waited.
The elder arrived with Leon practically dragging him by the arm, the old lion’s expression amused and exasperated in equal measure. He approached me with knowing eyes, his hands already reaching for my belly.
"This will confirm," he said, and then his hand was there, pressing, feeling, and suddenly he grabbed hard, not painful, but startling, a jolt that made me gasp.
Leon erupted.
A growl ripped from his throat that seemed to shake the earth itself, his body shifting partially, claws extending, eyes locked on the elder with murderous intent. He was between us in a heartbeat, fangs bared, ready to defend his unborn young from any threat, real or imagined.
"Sure enough," the elder laughed, completely unfazed by the lion’s rage, "it’s the second prince’s litters. The fatherly instinct makes him ready to kill the moment his litters are in trouble. Congratulations, Leon. You will be a father."
"Did you have to startle me, though?" I asked, my heart still hammering from Leon’s protective explosion.
The elder chuckled, his weathered face crinkling. "It’s the only sure way to know for certain who the father is. The true father’s beast will always rise to protect, even from imagined threats. Ravin’s did the same when I tested him."
Leon picked me up then, swinging me in a circle, his laughter booming. "Thank you," he kept saying, over and over, pressing kisses to my face, my neck, my hands. "Thank you for making me a father. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"You’re making me feel sick, Leon," I laughed, though I clung to him, dizzy with joy and nausea.
"I will take care of you and the cubs," he grinned, setting me down but keeping his arms locked around my waist. "You will always be in my sight. I will never let you out of my sight."
"Please no," I groaned, remembering my first pregnancy, the constant hovering, the three males at the time treating me like I might shatter at any moment. "You guys did that when I was pregnant with the first four. Please. I am sturdy enough. I don’t need to be treated like I’m crippled."
"But you have to take care of your womb, Krys," Ravin said, appearing from nowhere, having heard Leon’s earlier whoop. He turned to his younger brother and pulled him into a crushing hug, clapping him on the back hard enough to stagger him. "Congratulations, brother. You’re having your own litter."
"Thanks, brother," Leon beamed, his grin so wide it looked like it might split his face. "I’m very happy."
"Congratulations, you big fluff ball," Soryn hissed, his serpent form coiling nearby, his forked tongue flicking with amusement.
"Thanks, snake," Leon grinned, too happy to take any insult.
"Congratulations on fatherhood," Caelion said softly, his sea-glass eyes warm with genuine joy.
"Congratulations, Prince Leon," Veylan added, standing at the edge of our group, his silver hair catching the light.
"Hey, we’re all Krys’s mates," Leon corrected, his chest puffed with pride. "No need for any titles." He really was too happy to care about anything.
And he proved it by becoming impossibly clingy. He stuck to me all day, his hand on my waist, my shoulder, my belly, his eyes constantly checking my face for signs of discomfort. When Veylan left to help the villagers and join the hunting party, Leon barely noticed. When Ravin departed to help Raon with negotiations and possible alliances, Leon waved him off without looking away from me. Even when Caelion volunteered to help Soryn with the evening chores, Leon just nodded, his focus unwavering.
"You’re suffocating me," I laughed, pushing at his chest.
"Good," he said simply, not moving an inch.
Then Caelion approached, his expression hopeful and nervous. "Soryn and I were thinking... we could bathe the cubs tonight. Give you and Leon some time to celebrate."
I looked at my two mates, one a serpent who hated heat, the other a merman who loved water but had no experience with land cubs. I knew how hard bath time was, the chaos, the fighting, the water everywhere. I looked at them with genuine sympathy.
"Thank you both," I said solemnly. "May the beast gods show you mercy."
"They are small," Soryn said confidently, his tail flicking. "We can handle them."
"Yes," Caelion agreed, his smile bright. "I’m sure they love Daddy Soryn and Daddy Caelion to bathe them and make sure they’re clean."
I wasn’t going to comment on that.
Later that evening, as I picked at strips of dried meat and plain roasted roots, the only foods that didn’t make me want to expel my stomach contents, I heard the commotion. The door burst open, and Soryn and Caelion stumbled in, drenched from head to toe, scratch marks visible on their arms and necks, their hair standing in wild directions. They looked worse than when they had left, like they had been through a war rather than a bath.
"Did you succeed?" I asked, trying not to laugh.
"Yes," Caelion said, his smile weak and waterlogged. "But I think next time we should have more daddies to bathe these cubs."
"They weren’t that bad," Soryn insisted, his serpent pride wounded.
"Tell that to your tail," Caelion mentioned, pointing. "You have three bite marks on it, enough to bruise for a few days."
I looked at Soryn’s tail, and sure enough, there were three distinct sets of tooth marks, red and angry.
"What about the fourth bite?" I asked, confused. "There are four cubs."
"Jasper," Soryn said, his expression flat. "Jasper was busy hiding and sleeping. He found a dry corner behind the wash buckets and didn’t move the entire time. He didn’t care about us at all."
I laughed until tears streamed down my face, my stomach aching. What could I say? They were in the cat family tree. They hated water.
And Jasper, my lazy prince, had once again proven that the best defense was simply not participating at all.
---
Tonight, I declared no rotations. No rock paper scissors. No negotiations or gentle arguments about whose turn it was to share my bed. I wanted to sleep by myself, to stretch my limbs across the furs without bumping into another body, to claim the whole space as mine and mine alone. I loved my mates, and coming to care deeply for my newest one, but tonight was one of those nights where I needed solitude more than warmth.
Veylan hadn’t shared my bed officially. Not once since that night. I had talked to him, repeatedly, patiently, telling him it wasn’t his fault, that I forgave him, that I didn’t blame him for what the poison had made him do. But still, he refused to come near me unless he had to. He would bring me food and water, fluff my pillows, build things for the house, but he wouldn’t touch me, wouldn’t sit too close, wouldn’t let his hand brush mine when he passed me a cup.
I still thought of that night sometimes, the pain, the desperation, the way he had lost himself in the poison’s grip. But I also knew, with a certainty that grew stronger every day, that the Veylan I saw now would never hurt me intentionally. He was careful with me, almost painfully so, his silver eyes constantly checking, constantly worried, constantly seeking forgiveness he already had.
During our weeks together, I had learned who he truly was. A male who observed quietly, who noticed when I was hungry before I said anything, who disappeared into the forest and returned with game or berries or fresh water without being asked. When I mentioned a craving, salt, sweetness, something cold, he would vanish and return with it, his expression hopeful, seeking approval. He was considerate in ways that broke my heart, always thinking of others, always trying to atone for a sin he hadn’t truly committed.
I wished he wouldn’t be so hard on himself. I wished he could see himself as I saw him: strong, gentle, worthy.
I looked at my cubs, sleeping soundly in the small beds Leon had carved for them, their bodies curled tight, their breathing even and peaceful. They looked so comfortable, so safe, so perfectly at home in their world. And I wondered, where would the new cubs sleep? How many would there be this time? Four again? More? Less?
And would they all be boys, like the first litter? Or would I finally have a girl?
The thought struck me like a physical blow, stealing my breath. If I had a daughter, she would inherit the Blue Bind from me. She would carry the same power, the same danger, the same impossible choices. How could I protect her from that? How could I teach her to navigate a world that would want to use her, cage her, kill her for what flowed in her veins? How could I prepare her for the burden I was only beginning to understand?
I lay in my empty bed, surrounded by space I had craved, and suddenly felt suffocated by the future. The questions multiplied in the darkness, each one spawning three more, until my mind was a whirl of anxiety and uncertainty.
What should have been a comfortable sleep, sprawled, alone, unbothered, became a night of thinking and no sleep. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the house, my hand resting on my not so flat belly where new life was just beginning to bloom, and I prayed to whatever gods might listen that I would be enough for what was coming.
---
I didn’t tell my mates about my sleepless night. Some burdens, I was learning were meant to be carried alone until I could shape them into words that wouldn’t wound the hearts of those who loved me. So I rose with the sun, pasted on a smile, and pretended that the dark circles under my eyes were simply the price of motherhood.
Today was the day the sea lions came.
They emerged from the coastal caves like legends given flesh, massive creatures that made our lions look almost domestic in comparison. Burly beasts with shoulders as broad as doorways, their fur dark and sleek in beast form, ranging from deep brown to black that gleamed with an almost blue sheen when wet. They moved with surprising grace for their size, their bodies powerful and streamlined, built for diving but equally at home on rocky shores. In man form, they stood tall and imposing, their complexions a deep, warm brown that seemed to absorb the sunlight, their eyes pale and striking against the darkness of their skin.
The alliance was old, predating even Raon’s father’s reign. Once a season, they traded with us; sea creatures, shells, salt, and treasures from the deep in exchange for grains, dried meats, and the fruits of our forests that could not grow along their harsh coastal cliffs.
I stood with my mates as the delegation approached, trying not to sway on my feet from exhaustion. The sea lion at their front was a male with a mane of silver and black hair, his bearing regal and imposing. But it was the female beside him who caught my attention.
She was stunning, in a fierce, untamed way. Tall and proud, her skin the color of wet slate, smooth and dark, her eyes the pale green of shallow sea water. She carried herself like a queen surveying new territory, her gaze sweeping across our gathered males with obvious assessment.
I watched her expression shift as she catalogued each of my mates. Ravin, massive and golden. Leon, fierce with his dark hair. Soryn, exotic with his man form from head to waist, and from his waist down the scales of his serpent nature. And Veylan, silver and watchful, his eyes ancient and knowing. Each one she dismissed with a flick of her eyes, taken, clearly taken, their attention fixed on me with the unmistakable devotion of bonded males.
Then her gaze found Caelion.
He stood slightly apart, as he often did, his sea-glass eyes distant. He was beautiful, my merman, with his sapphire hair and storm-colored eyes, his elegant features and gentle bearing. He looked like poetry made flesh, like a dream of the ocean walking on land.
The sea lion female’s eyes lit with hunger.
She approached him directly, ignoring protocol, ignoring the silver-and-black male who called her name in warning. She stopped before Caelion, her stance confident, her smile sharp with invitation.
"You are lovely," she said, her voice like water over stones. "I am Mirena, daughter of the Deep Current tribe. I seek a mate from your lands, a male who understands the water as I do." She reached out, her fingers bold as they traced the line of Caelion’s jaw. "You would suit me well. Your hair matches my skin. Your eyes hold the same storms as mine."
Caelion went rigid, shifting uncomfortably on his human legs, his eyes wide with panic. He looked at me, desperate, pleading for rescue, but I held still, curious despite myself to hear his response.
"Mirena," he said, his voice gentle but firm, stepping back to break her touch. "You flatter me. You are beautiful, fierce, a credit to your people. But I am already claimed."
She laughed, the sound rich and confident. "Claimed? By the land beast?" She gestured toward me without looking, her tone dismissive. "She cannot give you what I can. She cannot dive the depths with you, cannot hunt the currents, cannot understand the sea’s song as you do. I am of the ocean, merman. I am your equal."
Caelion’s expression softened further, but there was steel beneath the kindness now. "You misunderstand," he said. "I am not claimed by obligation. I am claimed by choice. By love." He looked at me then, his sea-glass eyes meeting mine across the distance, and the warmth in them made my chest ache. "Krys is my heart. She is my home. She cannot dive as I do, true, but she braved the depths to save me. She is my equal, Mirena, in ways that have nothing to do with scales or fins."
Mirena’s smile faltered, her hand dropping. She studied him, then me, then him again, as if trying to understand the equation that did not balance in her mind.
"You are a fool, merman," she said, but there was affection in it. "A beautiful, stubborn fool. She is lucky, your land mate. I hope she knows it."
"She knows," I called out, stepping forward, unable to stay silent any longer. "But thank you for the reminder."
Mirena turned to me, her gaze assessing, measuring. Then she nodded, once, a gesture of acknowledgment between females who understood the weight of wanting, and the greater weight of being chosen.
"Keep him close, female," she said. "Males like that are rare in any world."
"I intend to," I replied, taking Caelion’s hand, feeling his fingers tremble with relief as they closed around mine.
As the trade negotiations began in earnest, I leaned against my merman, his arm around my waist, and I was reminded again how lucky I was to have all of them, the warmth of devotion, the certainty of being chosen, again and again, by males who saw my fragility and loved me anyway.