Rosalie
“Rosalie,” Ethan whispered.
I opened my eyes to his voice, his face only inches from mine. The dream I had been having disintegrated and fell back into the furthest recesses of my mind, the calm silence of sleep interrupted by background noise; papers rustling and the footsteps of soone unfamiliar walking by.
“Maeve’s awake. She’s alright. Troy is with the boys.”
“The boys? Oh—” I sat upright, expecting to feel pain, but I felt... nothing. I turned to Ethan slowly, gooseflesh prickling across my skin.
He smiled, tears welling in his eyes. “Everyone’s okay. Even the little one. He’s–he’s perfect, honey. I an—” Ethan looked like he was about to cry. He was choking on the words.
I pulled him into , my hand on the back of his head as he knelt between my knees. He crumbled in my arms, and I let my own tears fall into his hair.
Oh, Goddess. They were okay. It had worked. I had my powers again.
“Is the baby... is his heart...” I couldn’t finish the sentence without breaking down.
Ethan nodded, his strained laugh making us both tremble. “The doctors checked him out. The hole is gone, almost like it was never there. He is small though; I’ve never seen anything so small. Barely three pounds.”
“Oh, my,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling. “That is very small.”
“He has no hair, but the other two are—they have very fine red hair, like Maeve did when she was born. Troy had the boys put in a room together, even the little one. He didn’t want them separated. He said it—it was all they knew. They only knew each other.”
“He’s right,” I said, hiccupping. “Oh, I want to see Maeve. Have you seen her yet, since—”
I lifted my head off of his and looked around for the first ti. We were in the hospital in Mirage, in a small waiting room. I felt a prickle of unease as I looked around, and Ethan noticed my change in deanor.
This was one of the only places not touched by Damian’s invasion, but it still carried the weight of the mory of those injured during the battle that took place in the city. He looked up at , then rose to his feet, holding out his hand.
“How do you feel, Grandma?”
I bead, his words erasing any and all apprehension.
“I feel like new. Let’s go see our daughter.”
***
Ethan
Maeve was sitting upright in the hospital bed, a smug grin on her face as we sat around her, each of us holding one of her many babies. She had just been dead, and upon hearing Troy’s retelling of the birth I was absolutely shocked to see her sitting upright, talking to us. Overall, he was jolly and light hearted.
“You have a litter,” I said, not even trying to hold back the pure joy in my voice as I looked down at the almost microscopic bundle in my arms.
He was the smallest one of the bunch, so tiny I could practically hold his entire body in the palm of one hand. But he was healthy and strong, his coloring a robust pink against the pale yellow swaddle he was wrapped in.
“What’s in his nose?” I asked.
“It’s called a nasogastric tube,” Maeve said, matter-of-factly, sipping from a huge cup of water. She seed pleased as she watched all of us obsess over her creations.
“It’s to help him eat, I guess. He doesn’t need it though. He nursed just fine about an hour ago. And those two brutes—” she pointed to the bundles in Troy and Rosalie’s arms, “had no issues whatsoever. I’m surprised I have nipples left.”
I rolled my eyes. Maeve rarely had a filter, even in front of . Troy colored, however, glancing at through his lashes before abruptly looking away. He was absolutely exhausted.
I was very proud of him for how he’d handled himself over the past day and a half. And even though I still had my doubts about his abilities to run an entire pack on his own, there wasn’t anyone else I would trust with my daughter.
He loved her, that was obvious. And watching him beam down at his newborn sons made the tension loosen in my shoulders.
There had been a ti when I thought he was after sothing. He had explained Roro’s desires to , letting know he kept that part of the sche a secret from Maeve.
Roro was dead, and Troy didn’t think it was necessary to tell her about his desire for White Queen blood to mingle with their family tree.
These boys weren’t pawns in Troy’s quest for control, because Troy wasn’t on such a quest. His world revolved around Maeve, and for that I was grateful. He had just saved her life and brought Rosalie back into her powers.
“What’s wrong, Dad?”
I turned to Maeve, who blinked, watching with suspicion.
“Nothing just... lost in thought.”
“Do you think these two are identical?” Rosalie leaned into Troy to compare the two babies they were holding. I looked back down at the little one, who was looking up at , his irises nearly black, even under the dimd fluorescent lights.
I thought I could see a hint of blue in one eye, but the other was obsidian in color. I rembered Rowan and Maeve’s eyes looking like that once and how we marveled at the dramatic transformation their eyes took over the next few weeks.
“Hello,” I said softly to the baby in my arms.
He stared up at , opening his mouth just a little into what I was sure was the beginning of a smile.
“I hope they’re not identical. I’m already having a hard ti telling those two apart.” Maeve reached for the apple on the table next to the bed, rolling it in her hands. She looked slightly unnerved and had dark circles under her eyes.
If we hadn’t just been through hell and back, I would have chalked it up to the fact that she just gave birth to triplets, but there much more to the pain hidden there.
“We’ll be able to tell regardless. Right?” Troy sounded skeptical, glancing over at Rosalie for reassurance. I smiled softly to myself, taking what felt like the first deep breath I had inhaled in months.
We sat holding the newest additions to our family for a long while, the one in my arms eventually falling asleep. I reached up and ran a finger across his cheek, marveling at the miracle that was my grandson.
“Well, one of them is going to be Charles. Charlie.” Troy looked down at the baby he was holding, tilting his head to the side before glancing at the one in Rosalie’s arms. “I think he’s Charlie. He just looks like that’s his na.” He pointed to Rosalie’s bundle with a grin.
“Well, hi Charlie,” Rosalie said sweetly, giving the baby a huge grin. Goddess, I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long ti.
“We didn’t really talk about their nas, to be honest. We’ve been rather preoccupied.” Maeve was now eating a sandwich to go with the three apples she had devoured in the last half hour. “Troy wanted to na one of them Charles because of the journal he found in Lycaon’s tomb. I thought it was a great idea, especially after reading it. He sounded like a brave man, and he was definitely interesting. Troy wanted to honor him in so way.”
“Charles is a fine na. A strong one.” I shifted the little one’s weight in my arms, wondering silently what na they planned for him.
“I like Gabriel,” Maeve said.
“What do you think about William?” Rosalie asked.
“William is a nice one,” Troy agreed, looking down at the baby in his arms. “Is that your na?”
The baby squird, cooing. Rosalie grinned broadly, nodding her head. “I think that’s it. William. It’s a family na, if you think about it.”
“Oh, yeah. It is, isn’t it?” Maeve smiled, popping open a bag of chips.
“Was it your father’s na?” Troy asked Rosalie.
Rosalie’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head, chuckling. “Oh, no. We don’t talk about him.”
“Oh...” Troy looked a little embarrassed as he cleared his throat.
“My mother’s na was Willa,” Rosalie replied, patting Troy on the shoulder.
“What about him?” I asked, motioning toward the sleeping infant in my arms. I had already decided his na was “Little One,” at least to .
“He needs sothing powerful, sothing with aning.” Maeve crinkled the chip bag loudly, looking at us for direction. “Well, start calling out nas!”
We bounced a handful of nas around the room, such as Patroclus, Augustus, Frederick, and Theodore. Maeve turned her nose up at each one, even though Troy seed willing to give the poor kid any na in the book at that point.
Finally, we exhausted our efforts, slumping back against our chairs as we took turns handing the babies off to Maeve to be fed.
“What do you think of the na Soren?” Troy asked nonchalantly, sipping coffee from a paper cup while he held Little One against his shoulder.
I almost dropped Charlie, who I was now holding, out of shock. I figured Maeve had told Troy about her Uncle Soren, but to na their child after him was an odd choice.
Soren had been closer to Rowan, and had been sporadically in Maeve and Rowan’s lives, but never around long enough to form much of a bond, especially when it ca to Maeve.
But when I glanced at Maeve, I saw the confusion in her eyes as she looked at Troy, her mouth slightly agape.
“I know it’s a weird na—”
“Where do you know the na Soren from?” I asked hurriedly.
Troy’s face underwent an incredible transformation as he turned to . He was startled at first, but then his eyes narrowed on mine, looking at as though for the first ti.
“Are you related to a Soren? The man I knew he—he looks similar to you, I guess. I think—” Troy looked from to Maeve, nearly snapping his neck. “Wait a minute—”
“I have a half-brother nad Soren,” I said, trying not to raise my voice around the sleeping infants. “How could you possibly know him?”
“Maybe it’s not the sa Soren, Dad. Surely... surely there’s more than one—” Maeve stuttered, adjusting William against her chest.
“I’ve only t the one,” Troy said, shrugging.
I inhaled deeply. “What did he look like, exactly?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Troy went on to describe my brother to a T, and the floor beneath felt a little wobbly as I stood up and placed Charlie in Rosalie’s arms.
“How the hell do you know him?” I asked bluntly, the words harsh and demanding.
Troy looked taken aback by my tone, and his cheeks colored as he shifted the unnad baby, Little One, in his arms.
“He helped us build the Persephone.”
“He WHAT?” Maeve was shocked, and her exclamation startled William, who screwed his tiny face into a bright red scowl and screeched with all his might. She placed him on her shoulder, patting him on the bottom with vigor as she glared at Troy. “Why didn’t you tell this?”
“I had no idea you were related to him. I haven’t seen him since I was fifteen!”
“Fifteen?” I asked, scratching my beard. “That would have been ten years ago, just about?”
Troy nodded, trying to calm Little One, who was following his brother’s lead and beginning to fuss. “He crashed his cruiser into the reef that hugs the shore of Suntra. Keaton, Robbie, and I had a house there. Well, not really a house but sothing with walls and roof to keep up dry from the rain. We had to go rescue him before he got carried out by the tide. We helped him fix his cruiser, but he just... didn’t leave. He stayed with us for a year.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I was stunned into utter disbelief. I had a hard ti believing Soren wouldn’t have recognized Troy for who he was imdiately, for one. Troy looked like Maddalyn, a damn near spitting image of her. And Behar’s blood ran through his veins.
I could see Behar in so of the expressions Troy made, especially when he narrowed his eyes. Soren’s sporadic letters over the past decade had no ntion of Troy, or even Soren’s ti in the isles. I knew Soren was off on so misadventure, but that was it.
“Does this an we’re not naming him Soren?” Troy said, looking around at us.
Maeve turned red in a way I knew all too well. I could see the irrational anger beginning to fla behind her eyes. She felt along the side table, still nursing William, and knocked a granola bar to the ground by accident, which sent her over the edge.
“Why didn’t you tell you knew Soren?!” she snapped, causing William to startle once again.
I took two huge steps and took William from her arms, bent to fetch the granola bar off the ground, opened it, and damn near stuffed it into her mouth for her. She lost so of her coloring, her shoulders slumping.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired.”
“Maybe we can table this... discussion until another ti—” Rosalie stood, bouncing Charlie in her arms before setting him down in one of the three bassinets along the far wall. “I’ll go fetch a nurse—”
“I don’t want to talk about Soren,” Maeve said, her voice edged with sadness.
“Troy and I can talk about it without—” I began, moving to place William in the second bassinet.
“I want to talk about what happened.”
The room quieted at her words. Troy swallowed, looking down at Little One with a forlorn expression. How close we ca to losing him...
“Maeve, honey. We have all the ti in the world to talk about what happened,” Rosalie pleaded.
“What happens now? We brought the stones together. You got your powers back. I can feel... I can feel the mate bond, Mom. I feel it. What happens now? Are we safe? Are the babies... what if Tasia knows we’re here? I want to go back to Winter Forest—”
Troy moved quickly, rising from his seat and placing the tiny baby in her arms. Little One’s weight cald her imdiately, his jerky, uncoordinated movents distracting her as he tried to free himself from the swaddle.
“We’re okay, Maeve. Look at how far we’ve co,” Troy sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over her as he whispered against her cheek.
Rosalie moved to my side, taking my hand. “We should go. We have a lot to talk about too. They need to rest.”
“His na is Oliver,” Maeve said suddenly, just as Rosalie and I reached the doorway. We turned to her and watched as she adjusted the baby’s swaddling. “For Cleo. For Cleo’s mate.”
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