While we spent the rest of the day the war between Moon Valley and Atalaxia was declared quietly together—Henry joined us for lunch and a peaceful dinner—the three months that followed flew by at a baffling pace.

Much of that time was spent with Roger and Sinclair working tirelessly. They not only whipped our military into shape and secured various international allies, but also managed an increasingly mobile wolf baby and a very pregnant Cora.

“I hate this,” Cora grumbled, flopping onto my bed and leaning against the cushions, her hand pressed against her aching back. “I’m never getting pregnant again.”

“Well, it’s not like you did it intentionally the first time,” I said, grinning and sitting on the bed’s edge with Rafe wiggling in my arms. “I doubt Mom will give you much choice about a second time, considering Roger’s destiny to father many hybrids.”

“Whatever,” Cora muttered, leaning 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, but now I’m rethinking that.”

“Birth and pregnancy are beautiful, Cora,” I said in a slightly scolding, overly reverent tone. When she opened one eye to glare, we both burst into laughter.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, sitting up and stroking her enormous 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 sighed, setting Rafe on the comforter and catching him before he crawled away. He’s nearly eight months old, big, and fast. He squeaked in protest as I tickled him back into my lap, then I offered him an apple slice from a small plate beside the bed. He eagerly accepted it, forgetting his exploration in favor of eating.

I smirked at my son, amused by his fascination with the apple, then turned back to my sister.

“Roger and I want to keep the name to ourselves until he’s born,” Cora said, smiling. “The whole nation is following my pregnancy,” she continued, rolling her eyes. “We at least deserve one little thing to ourselves, right?” I shrugged, conceding her point. In the war’s early months, people rallied around Cora, excited about the “Baby Duke” as a bright spot in the increasingly grim war news.

We weren’t doing poorly in the war; in fact, Sinclair, Roger, and Henry predicted the first few months would be difficult. We were, after all, a nation with new leadership and depleted military forces after our civil war. Our men told us the key was to hold the line and delay major action until we could rebuild our forces.

Calvin, to everyone’s surprise but mine, has been a huge help. Though I haven’t heard from him directly, reconnaissance reports indicate he’s taken a more active role in Atalaxia, speaking out against the war and delaying its progress whenever possible.

A friend indeed, I thought, smiling as I gave Rafe another apple piece.

“He’s been eating a lot of solids lately,” Cora said, watching Rafe.

“Well, I don’t think anyone produces enough breast milk to feed this little meatball alone,” I said, grinning and nuzzling my baby.

“He’s not a meatball anymore, Ella,” Cora said dryly. “He’s a meatloaf.”

“Don’t be mean—” I scowled, but laughed at the same time.

“It’s not mean, it’s true,” she said, laughing. “He’s eight months old, but what…thirty pounds?”

“Thirty-five,” I said, smiling at my son.

“He’s a giant!”

“You’ve seen his dad,” I said, rolling my eyes and lying down behind my baby to prevent him from crawling off the bed. “And Roger isn’t small. Your own boy will be a meatloaf in eight or nine months.” Cora laughed and grimaced. “So,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “have you…stopped breastfeeding?”

“Mostly,” I said casually. I knew what she meant, and it wasn’t something I was ready to discuss. I hadn’t even told Sinclair, let alone Cora.

“Sometimes I breastfeed before bed—helps him sleep.” It was a lie; I’d stopped weeks ago. Cora grinned, seeing through it.

“Ella,” she said, leaning closer. “Why don’t you just talk to me about this? Everyone knows you’re trying for another baby—”

“Cora!” I shouted, throwing a pillow at her. She swatted it away, laughing. “Nobody knows that!”

“Mom did,” she said, tucking the pillow behind her.

“Mom is an all-knowing goddess,” I countered.

“And seriously?” she said. “Sinclair, who watches you like a hawk, has no idea?”

“That surprises me too,” I admitted, leaning back, ready for this conversation even if I wasn’t prepared. “But he’s so busy, I think he’s distracted and hasn’t connected the dots.”

“So why don’t you tell him?”

“Cora,” I said, my face falling with worry. “You of all people should know why.”

“What? I—” Her face fell. “Oh, Ells,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not going to be like that again.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I was overwhelmed by memories. I’d spent years trying to conceive, unsuccessfully. We didn’t know then that I couldn’t conceive with a human partner; that’s changed now. But the emotions, the waiting, the failure to conceive… because I’d been trying for months, and I wasn’t pregnant.

“It is like that again,” I said quietly.

“Hey,” she said, reaching for my shoulder. I looked up as she pointed at Rafe. “What’s this?”

“What?”

“What’s this?” she insisted.

“It’s Rafe, Cora—duh, and he’s not a ‘this’—”

“It’s your baby,” she said, gently shaking me. “And if you want another one, you can have another one, okay? It’s foretold! You’ve had visions about this!” Tears filled my eyes as I received the pep talk I needed from my pragmatic sister.

“Then why hasn’t it happened yet?” I asked quietly.

“Maybe you need a little help,” she said, shrugging and smiling. “A medical procedure helped you conceive the first time—maybe you and Sinclair just need a little medical assistance, like thousands of women do. And hey, that’s what I’m for!”

“I wanted to do it naturally this time,” I sighed, a little jealous. “Like you, when you got pregnant the first time you had sex with your mate.”

“Yes,” she said earnestly, glancing at her enormous stomach. “And now I’m miserable, can’t sleep, and pee every five minutes—” I burst out laughing.

“The grass is always greener!” she said, shaking my shoulder before leaning back. “But seriously, Ella, you just finished breastfeeding—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 sighed, rolling onto my back and taking Rafe with me. He squealed happily as I cuddled him. “Thanks, Cora,” I added. “I needed that.”

“Well, I need a c-section, immediately,” she murmured, disgruntled. “Can you please arrange that? You’re the Queen.”

“Just trust the process, Cora,” I grinned, throwing 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 moaned, tilting her head back. “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 grinned, feeling sorry for her misery but also happy and excited.

But if she’d only known then how prophetic that last statement would be…