If we did, you’ll see how much that sucks.
What’s worse is that we’re still doing it.
I won’t get into that.
What I’ll say is, Fleuridia is my favorite, outside Lunwyn.
Oh my.
He felt the same as me!
It has the magic and the beauty of Bellebryn and Hawkvale, but with sophistication. The food here is unbelievable. The wine, even better.
He was quite right!
People are friendly, but not in your face about it (that could be me having trouble getting around in Bellebryn and Hawkvale, looking like Tor—here, some look at me with curiosity, but most people don’t pay me any mind at all, and gotta admit, that’s a relief—I don’t know how Tor does it, that’s gotta suck).
Lahn and Circe went on ahead ages ago because Lahn, like Frey, wants Circe at their house in Korwahn when she’s getting closer to the time. They asked me to meet them there and from what they said about Korwahk, I’d like to go.
But it’s gonna be hard leaving here. We’re headed to Benies to hook up with Apollo and Maddie. I figure my time is getting short, at most, I have three months left and it takes forever to get anywhere. We’ll see. I’d like to take in all I can but if Benies is half as awesome as the rest of Fleuridia is, I gotta spend some time eating and drinking my way through it. So maybe we can talk Valentine into sending us to Korwahk some other time. It’d be good to catch up with Lahn and Circe and meet their new arrival after he or she shows.
He was right again. That would be good.
And I liked how he said “talk Valentine into sending us” because he’d said “us.”
Though even as much as I liked it, I wondered at it.
What did “us” mean to Noc?
What did it even mean to me?
Those questions gave me the unusual sensation of my heart fluttering in my chest at the same time dread settled heavy in my belly.
I set both aside and refocused on Noc’s missive.
One other thing I gotta do is make sure Valentine transports the five cases of wine I’ve bought from the vineyards we’re stopping at along the way. Have a word with her about that, would you? And just to say, sweetheart, the way me and the guys are going, by the time this letter gets to you, that could be fifteen cases of wine.
This would mean I’d have Fleuridian wine in the new world.
And Noc to share it with (for it didn’t even occur to me that he wouldn’t share it).
Excellent.
Okay, not much else to say. Glad to read you’re getting on with things and you’re liking doing that. Looking forward to getting the full scoop, baby. Feels like time has flown at the same time it feels like it’s dragging. There’s a lot I’d love to know that’s going on with you and can’t wait to hear it.
Now, I should go. We make Benies in two days but only if I get my ass to bed so I can climb on that damn horse tomorrow and hold on. Achilles doesn’t fuck around with taking in the countryside. At least my ass is used to sitting that horse and doesn’t hurt so goddamn much (along with the rest of my body) at the end of the day. I’ll miss a lot from this world when I leave it, but I sure as fuck will be happy to see a car.
I grinned at the letter and read Noc’s last.
So I’ll end it here. Still miss you. It’ll be good to see you again, Frannie.
Take care of yourself, your family and Josette. Say hey to them all for me.
You, me and a slice of pizza, babe.
Soon.
Lotsa love,
-Noc-
Him and me and a slice of pizza.
Soon.
Very soon. Brikitta had grown quite heavy with child (even if she was such stylishly, her pregnancy wardrobe was stunning, if I did say so myself).
The wait for my new niece (I hoped) or nephew (I would not be disappointed) I felt was close to over.
Yes.
Soon.
Noc.
Me.
And pizza.
* * * * *
One Month Later
The midwife at the other end, as Brikitta sweated and grunted and moaned and gritted her teeth audibly in a highly unladylike manner, I had the dubious (at that point) honor, at Brikitta’s request, of attending the birth and holding her hand through it.
It was a hand I’d feared she’d break for it seemed she was tiring greatly but her strength had not been affected in the slightest.
And it was at that juncture I feared she was tiring greatly for the midwife kept summoning her to push, her entreaties seeming more and more urgent, and my sister-in-law was drenched with sweat, her hair, her shift, the bedclothes, and her face had gone from red and pained to drained of color and the pain had drifted from her eyes, a vagueness setting in.
“She mustn’t lose consciousness,” Hilde, Brikitta’s sister, who’d arrived two weeks ago to be present at this very moment, hissed.
I looked across the bed to her, a woman assuming the same position as I, on her feet, bent double, holding her sister’s hand. Her expression had been joyful and encouraging these last hours, now it appeared anxious and borderline panicked.
I then looked to Brikitta and saw not only her eyes had gone vague, her head was lolling on her shoulders.
“She must push,” the midwife pressed and the urgency was gone.
Fear was threading her tone.
And that fear threaded through my veins.
“The baby’s just about to crown, I can feel it,” the midwife went on. “She needs one, hearty push. If I can get hold of him…”
“Her,” I snapped, not for myself (solely).
My sister-in-law wanted a girl.
My brother didn’t care, but Brikitta had confided in me she longed for a baby girl that she could dress and Kristian could dote over and Timofei could love and protect.