Chapter 498 – Family Lines

Ella

Henry took a deep breath, then looked between the children. "I've been very intrigued," he began, "by the children's bonds—bonds like those between siblings and cousins. It's unusual. Indeed, I thought it unique, but it isn't."

My brows rose as I listened with interest.

"The children have created something of a triangle," Henry murmured, glancing between the three of them. "There have been rare examples of individuals having multiple fated mating bonds—my son, interestingly, among them—"

I leaned back against my mate, who wrapped his arm more tightly around me.

"But this," Henry said, gesturing between Ariel, Rafe, and Jesse, "three people bonded together naturally, each to the other two," He shook his head. "I haven't yet found any examples of it happening naturally. Though there are those who have forged such connections."

"Really?" Roger asked, his eyebrows rising.

"Usually in religious ceremonies," Henry said, folding his hands in his lap and looking around at us, "in the wilds of the north. Two people already bonded—either by fate or choice, usually through mating—would, willingly or by obligation, magically forge a bond with a third."

"For what reason?" Cora asked, shaking her head. "Like…plural marriage? Or something?"

"No," Henry replied, shaking his head. "This is usually done in communities where those who undergo the ceremony have long taken vows of chastity. No, they do it for the power resulting from the bond, which is said to be unique."

"This is so weird," I murmured, looking down at my children. "I mean, I'm very aware that my children and my nephew are special, but…"

"The magics of the north are strange," Henry sighed, shaking his head and shrugging. "They're also close-mouthed regarding the results of such bonding. But I imagine it's closer to the kinds of powers wielded by the dark priests we defied last year. Spells cast at a price, rather than goddess-given gifts freely used with little effort."

"But since the bond between the kids was natural," Sinclair murmured, "can we assume that whatever power results would be easier to wield?"

"I have no idea," Henry sighed, smiling down at his grandsons and granddaughter. "Though I hope for their sake that it is. Those forged bonds and the resulting magic—they didn't come without a price."

"Oh geeze," I murmured, sighing and looking down at my precious newborn. She could barely stay awake, let alone wield great and powerful magics. "What are you going to get up to, little girl?"

"All sorts of good things," Sinclair murmured, though I could hear the worry in his voice.

"I'm sorry I don't have more definitive answers," Henry sighed, his face genuinely apologetic.

"That's all right, Dad," Roger said, smiling at him. "It's more than we knew before. Besides, these kids are going to have to learn how to figure it out."

"And the Goddess said to trust them," Cora said, shrugging and standing, hoisting Jesse into her arms and smiling at him. "So, I'm just going to let them worry about it."

I grinned at my sister, realizing this was probably the best method. We're moms; there's definitely no way we're not going to worry. But what can we do? Cora and Roger were right—we just have to raise them well and trust them to figure it out.

"You're not leaving, are you?" I asked, sitting up as I saw Roger rise. "Don't! Stay! We can get food!" I yawned as I finished my sentence.

"We're leaving," Cora said with a gentle smile, "because Jesse needs a nap, and so do you. And little Miss Princess over there is already asleep."

I looked down at my arms and realized Cora was right—Ariel had drifted off without me noticing.

"Oh shoot," I muttered. "I wanted to feed her…"

"We'll leave you to it," Cora said, leaning down and kissing me on the cheek. "I'm just a phone call away if you need anything, sis."

"Thanks, Cor," I murmured, smiling at her and hugging Roger as he leaned down to say goodbye to the baby. I waved to them as they left, Henry watching them go.

"Will you stay at least, Henry?" I asked, leaning back against Sinclair.

"I'm afraid I should take my leave, too," he said as Rafe pushed to his feet and toddled toward him, reaching out his chubby arms to be picked up. Henry laughed and obliged, lifting my little one into his lap. "That is, if this one will let me."

"If he just sits on you," I said dryly, "you'll be too heavy to roll out of here."

"A fate I will happily accept," Henry murmured, turning Rafe in his lap and hugging him close, pressing his cheek to Rafe's dark hair. "He's so like his father at this age. It's like having my little boy back."

My heart swelled to hear Henry talk about Rafe that way, and I felt Sinclair's own surge of emotion through our bond.

"That one, though," Henry said, looking at Ariel asleep in my arms, "she is very precious to me as well, because she is so unfamiliar."

"What do you mean?" I asked, tilting my head.

"I never had a daughter," he sighed, staring at my little girl with her fuzz of golden-white hair. Then he glanced at Sinclair. "Your mother and I tried for another—she wanted a little girl very badly, you know. But the Goddess decided that two was enough."

"I didn't know that," Sinclair said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Yes," Henry said, raising his eyebrows as his gaze fell to Ariel. "So, this one is the fulfillment of a wish made long ago for a little girl, Sinclair. I always wondered what she looked like."

I clenched my teeth, fighting back tears, not wanting Henry to think I was sad or pitied him. It's just—I never knew he wanted that, never knew my sweet daughter would mean so much to him.

"Do you know," Henry said, cocking his head, and I leaned forward, listening intently. "I never thought she'd be blonde."

I burst into laughter, as did my mate, and I wiped away the tears spilling from my eyes. "Well, we don't know if she's going to stay blonde," I said, grinning and shaking my head. "Her hair could get darker—"

"No, Ella," Henry said, looking at me. "It is clear that this one is your daughter. She'll have her mother's beauty, which includes your unique hair. She's a Sinclair in name… but she's her mother born again."

"She's got to have some part of me," Sinclair murmured, a little jealous, leaning forward to peer at her.

"Time will tell," Henry said, leaning back in his chair. Rafe burbled something, looking up at his grandfather, who grinned and ran a hand over his head. "Either way, I am very glad to be their grandfather. I'm so pleased I'll get to see them grow, Goddess willing."

I nodded, agreeing, thinking the children were lucky to have such a dedicated grandfather.

"I do wish," Henry said, seeming lost in thought, "that I were more able to play with them—to participate more in helping you raise them by getting down on the floor, running, walking. But," he shrugged, "when the children are big enough to stand on the back of the chair, at least they'll always have someone to cart them around—"

"Oh my god," I said, the words tumbling out. "Oh my god," I sat up straight, staring at Henry, my eyes flicking to his legs—because honestly, I didn't even notice his chair anymore, or think of him as someone whose abilities were hindered.

Or of myself as someone who could do anything about it.

Henry looked at me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as I hastily—but carefully—passed Ariel into Sinclair's arms, my mate looking at me curiously.

"Henry," I breathed, reaching for him, taking his hand. "Why didn't you say anything sooner? Why didn't—I'm so sorry—why didn't I think of it—"

"What are you talking about, Ella?" he asked, frowning slightly. Even Rafe gave a curious squeak.

"I'm so stupid," I said, closing my eyes, frantically seeking my gift. "If I can heal you, why didn't anyone—"

"Oh, Ella," Henry said, withdrawing his hand. Shocked, I opened my eyes, looking into his. "Ella, my dear, I don't think it works like that."

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"I don't think your gift can heal what has already healed," he said, shaking his head. "A disability like this—it is not an injury. Your gift, from what I've learned, heals what is wrong with a body. But what happened to me so long ago—I've healed from it. My body is just different now—I'm not sick."

"Oh," I said, the logic hitting me like a slap in the face. I bit my lip, dropping my eyes. "Well, would you let me try?"

"Of course, my dear," he murmured, offering his hand again.

And so I closed my eyes, accessed my gift, and breathed softly as it swept through Henry. It mended a few minor things I thought were natural with age, but as it moved through him…

He was right.

There was nothing sick or injured about Henry's legs or spine. The wounds had healed long ago—perhaps not in the way we would have liked, but…his body had already done the work my gift would have done, as best it could.

Disappointment must have been plain on my face, because when I opened my eyes, Henry clicked his tongue and moved his chair closer, cupping my cheek in his palm. "Thank you for wanting to try, Ella. But really—I am not unhappy with my life in this chair. I am a blessed man, and as much as I would have liked to run with my grandchildren…well, I'm a bit old for that anymore, anyway, aren't I?"

"You are not," I said, scrunching my nose at him.

"Well," Henry laughed, grinning at me as Sinclair sat forward, pressing close to my side. "At least I can roll with them, which is probably just as good."

I smiled at him, nodding and leaning back to rest my head on Sinclair's shoulder.

"You're going to be the best grandfather, Henry," I said, sighing and smiling at him. "They're lucky to have you."

"And I them," he said, grinning down at Rafe and winking at my son. "What do you think, little boy? Should we roll to the kitchens? Get a snack?"

In response to his fifth favorite word—only behind Mama, Papa, Jesse, and breakfast—Rafe's little face lit up, and he threw his hands in the air, giving an excited squeak. We all laughed, and Henry raised an eyebrow at us. When Sinclair nodded his assent, Rafe and his grandfather rolled away, off on a little adventure.

And I leaned back against my mate, holding my lucky little girl tight in my arms.