#Chapter 471- Autumn Turns
Ella
While we spent the rest of the day that war was declared between Moon Valley and Atalaxia quietly together, Henry joining us for lunch and then a peaceful dinner, the three months that followed?
They flew by at a baffling pace.
A lot of it was Roger and Sinclair working their tails off, not only getting our military whipped into shape and handling international relations to make sure that we have a variety of pledged allies, but also dealing with an increasingly-mobile wolf baby and a very, very pregnant Cora.
“I hate this,” Cora grumbles, flopping back onto my bed and pushing herself up against the cushions, her hand pressed against her ever-aching back.” I’m never getting pregnant again.”
“Well, it’s not like you did it intentionally the first time,” I say, grinning at her and sitting down on the edge of the bed, Rafe wiggling in my arms. “I doubt mom is going to give you a lot of choice about the second time, it being Roger’s destiny to be a father of many hybrids.”
“Whatever,” Cora mutters, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. ” We’ll get him a surrogate. Six surrogates. However many he wants. He teased me about having seven mates a while ago and I said no way then, but now I’m rethinking this policy.”
“Birth and pregnancy are beautiful, Cora,” I say in a too-reverent scolding voice, and when she opens one eye to glare at me we both burst into laughter.
“Oh my god,” she murmurs, sighing and sitting up a little, stroking her hands over her seriously gigantic belly. “I mean, I know I love the kid – but my human body is ready for this little wolf to be born.”
“I still can’t believe you haven’t told me his name,” I sigh, sitting Rafe down on the comforter and grabbing his leg when he immediately tries to scurry away. He’s nearly eight months now and he’s big. And fast. Rafe gives a little squeak of protest but I tickle him as I pull him back, making him laugh. Then I reach for an apple slice on a little plate by the bed and hand it to him. Rafe takes it eagerly, not crawling away anymore because the only thing he’s more interested in than exploring is eating.
I smirk at my boy, tickled at the sight of him fascinated by his apple. And then I turn my attention back to my sister.
“Roger and I just want to keep the name to ourselves until he’s born,” Cora says, smiling. “The whole nation is following my pregnancy, after all,” she continues, rolling her eyes, “we at least deserve one little thing to ourselves, right?”
I shrug, conceding that what she says is true. In the first months of the war people really have rallied around Cora, excited about the birth of what they’ve called the Baby Duke as a bright spot in increasingly dark news from the war front.
It’s not that we’re doing poorly in the war in fact, Sinclair, Roger, and Henry predicted that the first few months would be hard. We, after all, are a nation with new leadership and dwindled military forces after our civil war. The important thing, our men have told us, is merely to hold the line and delay true action until we’ve had a little time to build our forces.
Calvin, to everyone’s surprise but mine, has been a huge help in this. Even though I haven’t had any word from him, our reconnaissance has reported that he’s taken a much more active role in Atalaxia, speaking out against the war and delaying forward motion where he can.
A friend indeed, I think to myself, smiling a little as I hand Rafe another piece of apple.
“He’s been eating a lot of solids lately,” Cora says, and I look up to see her considering Rafe.
“Well, I don’t think anyone produces enough breastmilk to feed this little meatball all alone,” I say, grinning and leaning close to my baby, sniffing his hair. “He’s so hungry.”
“Ella,” Cora says, her voice dry, “he’s not a meatball anymore. He’s a meatloaf.”
“Don’t be so mean – “I scowl at her, but I laugh at the same time.
“It’s not mean, it’s true,” she says, laughing with me. “I mean, he’s eight months, but he’s what…thirty pounds?”
“Thirty-five,” I say, smiling at my little boy.
“He’s a giant!”
“You’ve seen his dad,” I say, rolling my eyes and laying down behind my baby so that I can see my sister and use my body as a block to keep Rafe from crawling off the bed. “And it’s not like Roger is a little guy. Your own boy is going to be a meatloaf too, eight or nine months from now.”
Cora laughs at this and grimaces.” So,” she says, turning her head, narrowing her eyes at me a bit more. ” Have you…stopped breastfeeding?”
“Mostly,” I say, trying to be casual.
Because I know what she’s getting at here and it’s not something I’m ready to chat about. I haven’t even told Sinclair what I’m trying to do, let alone Cora. “Sometimes I breastfeed before bed – helps him sleep.”
It’s a lie, though. I stopped doing that a few weeks ago. Cora grins at me a little, seeing through it.
“Ella,” she says, laughing and leaning forward towards me. “Why don’t you just talk to me about this!? Everyone knows that you’re trying to have another baby – ”
“Cora!” I shout, sitting up and whipping a throw pillow at her, which she swats down, laughing. “Nobody knows that!”
“Mom knew it,” she says, tucking the pillow behind her back.
“Mom is an all-knowing goddess,” I counter, rolling my eyes.
“And seriously?” she says, “Sinclair, who watches you like a hawk, has no idea?”
“That honestly surprises me too,” I say, leaning back down on the bed and giving in, having this conversation even though I don’t think I’m ready for it. “But he’s so busy I think he’s distracted and hasn’t put the pieces together.”
“So why don’t you tell him?”
“Cora,” I say, my face falling now a little bit with worry. “You of all people should know why.”
“What? I ” and then her face falls too. “Oh, Ells,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not going to be like that again.”
And I feel tears prick my eyes as I look down at the comforter suddenly overwhelmed with the memories. Because – honestly, I have done this all before. I spent years trying to get pregnant and it never took. Of course, we didn’t know then that I couldn’t get pregnant with a human partner, and that’s obviously changed now.
But the emotions? And the waiting? And the not getting pregnant?
Because I have been trying for months now…
And I’m not pregnant yet.
“It is like that again,” I say quietly, not looking at my sister.
“Hey,” she says, moving forward on the bed and reaching out a hand to my shoulder. I look up at her, and she points at Rafe. “What’s this?”
“What?”
“What’s this?” she says again insistent.
“It’s Rafe, Cora – duh, and he’s not a this -”
“It’s your baby,” she says, shaking me a little. “And if you want another one, you can have another one, okay? It’s foretold! You’ve had visions about this!” she says as tears fill my eyes as I get precisely the pep talk I need from my no-nonsense sister.
“Then why hasn’t it happened yet?” I ask, quietly.
“Maybe you need a little help,” she says, giving me a shrug and a smile. “I mean, a medical procedure helped you get pregnant the first time – maybe you and Sinclair just need a little medical assistance to get pregnant, like thousands of women do. And hey, that’s what I’m for!”
“I wanted to do it naturally this time,” I sigh, glaring at her, a little jealous. “Like you, when you got knocked up the first time you had sex with your mate.”
“Yes,” she says, looking at me earnestly before glancing down at her gigantic stomach. “And now I am miserable, and can’t sleep, and pee every five minutes – ”
I burst out laughing, shaking my head.
“The grass is always greener!” she says, giving my shoulder a little shake before leaning back against the pillows. “But seriously, Ella, you just finished breastfeeding – and maybe it just takes time. Maybe just…trust the process. Have a lot of sex. And if in a few months things are still stalled? We’ll try something else.”
“Okay,” I say with a big sigh, rolling onto my back and taking my baby with me. Rafe gives a happy little squeal as I pull him onto my stomach, cuddling him there. “Thanks, Cora,” I add. “I needed that.”
“Well, I need a c-section, immediately,” she murmurs, disgruntled. “Can you please arrange that? You’re the Queen.”
“Just trust the process, Cora,” I say, grinning as I throw her words back at her, making her groan. “Have a lot of sex – if in a few weeks your baby still isn’t born – ”
“Weeks!” she moans, tilting her head back and pressing her eyes shut. “No way, Ella. I’m not making it weeks. This baby has to come immediately or I’m going to lose my mind. Now, preferably, or tomorrow at the latest.”
I grin at my sister, feeling sorry that she’s so miserable but also happy and excited.
But if she’d only known then how prophetic that last statement would be
