Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

66

Dawn broke, and with it came the most beautiful sound Matei had ever heard: the furious howl of a new-born babe.

He rose to his feet, his heart swelling with joy at the sound of that cry. He looked at the door, but it was shut fast; he looked at Eovin, whose red-rimmed eyes betrayed a lack of sleep that seemed to have affected him much more than it had Matei, and the two men exchanged smiles.

"Congratulations, Matei," said Eovin. Another wail punctuated his words, and he chuckled.

There were no words to convey Matei's feelings of anxious anticipation, so he did not even try. He paced, unable to sit still as he impatiently waited for the moment he'd be permitted into that room of women's mysteries, longing for nothing more than to see Mhera—and to meet his newborn child. It was taking so long. Were they well? Had something gone wrong? After a few minutes, the desperate cries of the infant quieted, and Matei could hear nothing. At least no sounds of distress or urgent commands issued from the other room.

At last, the door creaked open. Rhea stood there, looking exhausted; her gray hair formed a halo of frizz around her face. She smiled, tears standing in her eyes. "Oh, my dear, sweet boy," she said.

"How is she?" Matei approached, reaching out to take Rhea's hands. He looked past her into the empress's chamber, but from where they stood, he could not see the bed—only a pair of maids tidying away some linens.

"Both of them are well." She took a step back, nudging the door open with her hip and pulling Matei along by his hands. "Come and see your family, Matei."

The room was very warm. It was still dark, and a low fire glowed on the hearth; the soothing scent of burning herbs wafted through the room, carried on the breeze created by the back-and-forth bustle of half a dozen women. Matei caught sight of Aun on the far side of the room, washing her hands in a basin. And on the bed, her blonde hair tousled, lay Mhera. She did not seem to have noticed him come in; she was gazing down at a swaddled bundle in her arms.

Rhea released Matei's hands and nudged him gently. "Go on," she whispered, and she stood back, giving him an encouraging smile.

Matei crept toward the bed. To see his wife awake and well filled him with such desperate gratitude that he breathed a prayer of thanks to the goddess. Mhera was leaning back against the pillows, and nestled against her shoulder was a tiny creature with a red, crinkled face. The infant's eyes were screwed shut, its mouth a grimace of displeasure, and it held its fists against its face.

"My dearest heart," whispered Matei.

Mhera looked up at once, her expression of surprise quickly overtaken with a warm smile. "Matei," she whispered. She reached out for his hand and he gave it to her, leaning in to kiss her on the temple. "You have a daughter."

A daughter.

Gently pulling Matei a step closer to the bed, Mhera placed his hand on the tiny bundle she held, and she laid her own hand over his.

Matei loved his wife. He loved his friends, and he loved the people he served. But when he looked down at that newborn baby's face, he felt for this perfect stranger a love unlike anything he had ever known; it was instant, complete, and terrifying.

In that moment, meeting his daughter for the very first time, he realized that every conviction he had ever held in all his years amounted to nothing. There was no person, no ideal in all of Zanara's creation that mattered at all when compared to this fragile, beautiful life. His vision of a better world, his dreams of peace and prosperity, his determination to break down an eon of suffering was cast into shadow, and the thing that blocked the sun was this child, this daughter, the raising of whom the goddess had seen fit to grant him—his blessing, his responsibility, his highest purpose thenceforward. All the plans he had made, all the goals he had set for himself and his reign shifted and took a new shape.

It made sense now, and he marveled that anything had ever made sense before.

It was for her. For his daughter, he would pursue the bright vision of a perfect world. Every step he took from that moment forward would be for her. To protect her, he would kill with his own hands; he would give his life for her without an instant's hesitation. He must teach her everything he knew; he must guide her and preserve her from every hurt or harm, of which there was so much in this world. Too much. How could he, Matei, who knew nothing of raising children, have been entrusted with the most important task in the world of Arc: to be a father to this child? How could he hope to be worthy of it? How could he hope to succeed? He did not even know how to hold an infant—to teach her, to show her how to live? It was beyond him—

The sound of a soft laugh broke him from his astonished reverie. He glanced at Mhera's face and caught her smiling at him.

"What is it?" he whispered. It was not right to speak aloud; it was not right to disturb this child, this precious girl, who slept so soundly in her mother's arms. Gazing at Mhera's face, Matei saw her for the first time as a mother—his child's mother—and he was humbled. She had created this life within her own body.

"You look as if you've woken from a dream," she replied.

Shaking his head, Matei gently stroked his forefinger along the babe's head. Her wisps of hair were downy-soft and dark, still stuck in places to her pink skin. "I have, Mhera."

"Sit next to me," she said.

Matei went around to the other side of the bed and crawled in next to Mhera, moving slowly for fear of disturbing the child. He sat back against the pillows, and Mhera lifted the bundle carefully, offering him the swaddled babe.

With wide eyes, Matei reached for his daughter. "How do I—"

Smiling fondly—at him? at the child?—Mhera laid the baby in Matei's arms. "Just mind her head, sweetheart. She is less fragile than you think."

His daughter was warm and so very small. She seemed to weigh nothing at all. She made a little sound that wrung his heartstrings and turned her face toward him, screwing up her features into a grimace that was the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "She's perfect, Mhera. She's perfect."

"I know." Mhera leaned her head against Matei's shoulder, and they sat together, looking down at the miracle they had made.

The room emptied without Matei's noticing; when he looked up some time later, he realized that he, Mhera, and their daughter were alone, enjoying their first precious hour as a family in solitude. There would come a time for rejoicing, for celebrating, for introducing the babe to the world, but he was fiercely grateful for the privacy.

"Matei?"

"Mm?"

"I have an idea for her name."