Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Maybe,” I whisper, then pause to make sure I’m actually alone. It seems particularly perilous to speak my hope out loud, but I want my words to feel real. “Maybe having a baby won’t change anything for the bad. Maybe all the good things I’ve experienced since coming here are actually true and Rusalka could grow to care for me as much as I care for . . .” I take a deep breath. “As much as I love her.”
The situation still seems impossible, but I tuck that small kernel of hope deep inside me. The sensation feels fragile and strange, but not in a bad way.
That kernel and the soothing experience of weeding the space to prepare for new growth keep the worries at bay through the rest of the day. Mostly.
I don’t see anyone as I walk into the manor house and head upstairs to bathe before dinner. I technically still have my room, but with each night that’s passed without my returning to it, Rusalka’s bedroom starts to feel more like ours. She’s even made space for my newly purchased clothes in her closet.
Washing away the dirt from my day always feels a little bittersweet. The dirt is evidence of how hard I worked, of what progress I made, but it feels so good to have freshly cleaned skin—especially with the decadent lotions Rusalka keeps in the bathroom.
I’m just pulling on one of my favorite dresses—another red and flowing piece that makes me feel part princess and part succubus—when Rusalka walks into the room. The moment they see me, they cross to me and pull me into their arms for a devastating kiss.
It’s over much too quickly, but she only leans back a little instead of releasing me. “You look good enough to eat.”
“You, too,” I manage breathlessly. They’re wearing loose trousers and a fitted sleeveless top that shows off their muscular shoulders in a way that, strangely, makes me want to bite them. Sexually. “How was your day?”
“Long.” Rusalka leans back a little and props her chin on the top of my head. “A pack of hellcats wandered too close to a neighboring village. We do our best not to kill them unnecessarily, but they’re incredibly dangerous, especially when they have kits, which this pack does. The moment the village’s children realize they’re close, they’ll do something foolish, and then we’ll have too much death on our hands.”
“Oh no. That’s terrible.”
“It’s okay. I think we have a plan for relocation that will be successful. It’s just going to require speed and careful handling.” They squeeze me. “How are the gardens?”
“The bright berries are sprouting. Bogdan says it will be months before their fruit even shows up, let alone is ripe enough to pick and eat, but it’s still really exciting.”
Rusalka smiles. “That is. Jitka makes the best bright berry pie I’ve ever had the privilege of eating. We haven’t had any since you’ve arrived because she prefers to make it with fresh bright berry instead of frozen or dried. It’s a life-changing experience.”
“Speaking of life-changing experiences.” I don’t mean to say it. Truly, I don’t. I may have spent all day thinking about the future and existing in the space between fear and hope, but that doesn’t mean I want to ruin this. It’s too late to go back now, though. I clear my throat. “We haven’t talked about the baby in weeks.”
“There is no baby to speak of,” they say gently. “It’s a concept, and barely one at that.”
“Rusalka.”
She sighs and releases me. “I’m enjoying my time with you. I think you’re enjoying your time with me as well.”
I swallow hard. “I am.”
“Then why rush this? We have time.”
How is it possible that I love her all the more because she’s obviously trying to protect me . . . at the expense of her people? I can’t ask her to do that. I won’t. “I want a baby.” I finally say the words I’ve been chewing on for days and days, the truth that was so deep, I was afraid to face it.
“Do you?” They turn away from me. “Or do you just want a purpose?”
The words sting. More than sting. They slice deeply into the heart of me. It hurts so much that I actually gasp. “That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, little one.”
I should tell them that I want this baby for the sake of having a child so loved that they have nothing to fear. That I want a baby with Rusalka, who will be a full and caring partner no matter what the future between us may bring, who will inspire our child with her fearlessness and confidence.
Except I don’t say that. If I put that fragile fantasy of a future into words and she rejects me, I don’t think I’ll survive it. “I’m trying to help,” I finally whisper.