Accidental Surrogate

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 increasinglymobile 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.

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

a little as I hand Rafe

Cora says,

produces enough breastmilk to feed this little meatball all alone,” I say, grinning and leaning close to my baby, sniffing his

hungry.” “Ella,” Cora says, her voice dry, “he’s not a meatball anymore. He’s a meatloaf.” “Don’t be so mean –

she says, laughing with me. “I mean, he’s eight months, but he’s

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,

I’m ready to chat about. I

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

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

is an all-knowing goddess,” I counter, rolling my

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

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

emotions? And the waiting? And the not getting

months