‘I know, boy,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s take a walk. You never know, we might find something for you to take home.’
Wagging his tail briefly, Prospero moved stealthily by her side as Mistral left the faint gloom of the treeline and began to make her way deeper into the forests. The thick trunks of the trees loomed out of the shadows around her, drained of their living colour to pale hues of lilac and grey. At first all she could hear was the crunch of dried leaves beneath her feet then gradually other soft rustlings reached her ears, the barely heard pattering of nocturnal creatures scurrying away on tiny feet and the occasional sharp bark of a fox. An owl hooted close by and Prospero immediately growled then looked hopefully at Mistral, his nose twitching with the scent of a possible prey.
Mistral patted him absently and carried on walking, ‘Sorry boy ... maybe if you had wings –’
Lost in the beauty of the night forests Mistral wandered aimlessly, letting one hand trail dreamily against the rough bark of the trees she passed, the other resting over her unborn son. Every now and then she would gaze up at the starry sky when it appeared in patches through the branches above her and breathe in a deep sigh of contentment. The forests had always been her personal haven. When she was growing up they had afforded her an escape from life in dull Nevelte; a chance to revel in the thrill of hunting armed with only a dagger and the challenge of surviving for weeks on end completely alone … independent … free. Gazing at the trees that encircled her, Mistral smiled at her memories of the irresponsible, reckless girl that had stayed in the forests for weeks at time, neither thinking nor caring about the anxiety she must have caused her adoptive parents. The forests had always been more of a home to her than the cramped stone cottage they had tried to force her to live in, and now she knew of her centaur blood that all made perfect sense.
The tribe … Mistral fell to reflecting on her relationship with the centaurs. She hoped that Imperato would accept a position on the Magnate but she knew he would never leave his tribe, or Alyssa, to live in the Valley … not that one of the tower rooms would be suitable for him anyway; his home was his tribe just as her home was …
With a start Mistral realised that she no longer thought of the forests as home. Her home lay beyond them, nestled at the base of the Western Range, and it was calling to her now with an insistency that drew her from her daydreaming.
Another wave of pain ripped through her, obliterating every thought or sense with its savagery, holding her in its fiery grip for far longer than before, and she knew with absolute certainty that her time had come. Panic filled her, born of the knowledge that she was about to give birth alone in the forests at night, and suddenly Mistral was frightened.
Reaching a hand out to grab at Prospero, Mistral pulled her dog close and hissed out an instruction, ‘Get Fabian boy! Go!’
The heavy thudding of his paws running away through the trees faded, leaving Mistral listening to the sobbing of her own breath and the frantic pounding of her heart. She suddenly wished she hadn’t sent Prospero away but kept him close, feeling vulnerable without his reassuring presence. She curled into a ball of misery on the cold ground, breathing in the dry scent of mouldy leaves and earth, letting her mind drift into unconsciousness while she waited for the next wave of pain.
‘Get up Mistral!’
Mistral sighed and curled up tighter, ignoring the voice that pierced the comforting fog surrounding her brain.
‘You must get up!’
Mistral frowned, the quiet voice in her ear was so familiar, but it filled her with a strange sadness. It reminded her of a voice she never thought she would hear again. ‘Oh! Have … have I died?’ She whispered, keeping her eyes firmly closed.
‘No,’ the voice sighed. ‘I did that.’
... ‘Saul?’
‘Yes?’ the voice responded simply.
‘But – but, you’re –’
‘I know,’ the voice sighed again. ‘But did you really think that just because my body died I would no longer love you?’
‘Oh!’ Mistral’s eyes flew open, but all she could see was the dark branches above her and the cold stars beyond. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in your head Mistral, that’s why only you can hear me.’
‘But I can’t see you!’ She cried. ‘I – I wanted to see you again!’
‘But you can Mistral … just close your eyes, I’ll be there.’
Mistral obediently closed her eyes, tears running down her cold cheeks … and he was there, smiling at her, his gentle brown gaze exactly as she remembered it, the colour of autumn leaves.
‘Oh, I miss you brother,’ she sobbed then cried out suddenly with the blinding pain that gripped her. Arching her back and raking at the fallen leaves until the contraction passed, leaving her panting, supine on the hard ground.
‘Mistral –’
‘Mistral –’
‘Mistral –’
‘Yes –’ she finally groaned.
‘You must move.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, you can. Get up.’
‘Can’t –’
‘Yes, you can and you will. I told you once that I would never leave you and I haven’t. I will always be here when you need me, and you need me now, which is why I am telling you to move!’
Mistral drew in a deep breath and forced herself to respond to his words. Rolling onto her side she pulled her knees up so that she could crawl, inching her way through the debris littering the forest floor, gasping for breath and crying out each time the iron bands of pain constricted her … but listening, always listening to the quiet voice in her mind, telling her she could do it … urging her to keep moving… telling her that he loved her …
‘Mistral!’
Panicked shouts pierced the haze in her pain-filled mind and she cried out with relief, ‘Here!’
‘Mistral!’ Fabian’s distraught cry sounded almost harsh after Saul’s soft whisper.
‘Thank you,’ she breathed while Fabian’s hands wrapped around her, lifting her up into his arms.
The faintest whisper echoed through her mind as Fabian began to run, holding her tightly against his body.
‘I’ve always got your back Mistral.’
Deliverance
The first rays of sunlight pierced through the windows of the small mountain house, lighting the pale faces of the twins asleep in the armchairs by the stove and throwing into sharp relief the hard lines of tension on Fabian’s face. He paused in his pacing at the base of the wooden stairs and glanced up briefly, as though undecided as to whether he should go up or not, then turned and strode across the room once more, listening with clenched fists to the sound of Cain’s quiet voice and Mistral’s laboured breathing.
A hearty bawl shattered the quietness, sending the twins leaping to their feet, wild-eyed and tousle-haired. Fabian ran to the bottom of the stairs where he froze with one foot on the lower step, staring up at the sunlit bedroom where he could just see the edge of their bed, not daring to go any further.
‘Cain!’
‘Yes?’
‘Well?’ Fabian demanded frantically.
‘Congratulations Mage De Winter, you have a healthy son.’ Cain called down, appearing at the top of the stairs with a grin on his face.
Fabian closed his eyes and gripped the banister, then his eyes flew open again, ‘And … Mistral?’
‘Absolutely fine, too fine actually. Demanding to know where the father of her child is –’
Fabian took the stairs three at a time and ran past Cain, almost skidding to halt when his gaze fell upon Mistral, sitting up in their bed cradling a dark-haired baby in her arms. Prospero’s tail thumped the floor in greeting as Fabian sank slowly onto the edge of the bed.
‘Look at you!’ Mistral exclaimed softly. ‘Anyone would think that you’d just given birth!’
‘I feel like I have –’
‘I sincerely hope not.’ Mistral said then smiled. ‘Here, say hello to your son.’
Holding her arms out, Mistral offered him the swaddle of white cloth and dark hair that was the heir to the De Winter name and the most gifted being on the Isle. Fabian hesitated for the briefest of moments then reached out to take hold of his son. Gazing down in wonderment at the bundle of life in his hands, Fabian De Winter, the merciless assassin, was instantly lost.
‘Oh dear.’ Mistral sighed, seeing his expression, his aura and his thoughts all at once. ‘I dread to think what you’re going to be like when our daughter arrives.’
‘Can we come up yet?’ Phantom called impatiently. ‘Only it has been a rather long ten months and an even longer night!’
‘Only if it’s convenient, of course.’ Phantasm added, making a more concerted effort to conceal his own impatience.
‘Fine by me.’ Mistral called back, then, more quietly to Fabian. ‘Are you ready for the twins?’
Fabian nodded vaguely, still gazing in awestruck silence at his son.
The sound of feet running lightly up the stairs preceded the arrival of the twins, both looking unusually dishevelled in the clothes they’d slept in and sporting uncombed hair. But the anticipation that blazed in their faces could have outshone the midday sun. Phantasm sank down onto the bed next to Fabian who wordlessly passed his son over to be held. Releasing a deep sigh of satisfaction, Phantasm finally looked down at his godson.
Seeing the same look of hopeless indulgence steal over his face that Fabian’s had worn only seconds before, Mistral closed her eyes and sighed. Her son was going to be hopelessly spoiled.
‘Hello.’ Phantasm murmured and rose from the bed to walk to the window and show his godson the rising sun.
Phantom grinned at Mistral, ‘Congratulations sister, he’s almost as handsome as his favourite godfather, which is me obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ Mistral laughed and leaned back against the pillows propped up behind her, reaching out to take Fabian’s hand she smiled at his still dazed expression.
‘But, and I have to ask this because it defies even your innate sense of stupidity, just what were you thinking?’ Phantom continued in harder voice.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think Phantom is referring to the fact that you crept from our house in the middle of the night to give birth alone in the forests.’ Fabian said quietly, his voice betraying none of the anguish that suddenly flared in his aura.
‘Oh Fabian, I didn’t do it on purpose! I woke up in pain, I thought the baby was just kicking really hard, but well, I know it was a bit more than that now –’
‘Yes, just a bit. You were actually in labour.’ Fabian remarked drily.
‘I realise that now, but I didn’t at the time … and I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you just to listen to me moaning about how hard our son could kick … you looked so peaceful,’ she paused and smiled softly at him. ‘Anyway, I decided to go for a walk, and got a bit carried away.’
‘But where were you going?’ Fabian asked with a puzzled frown.
‘Home.’
‘Oh, the tribe. Of course –’
‘No Fabian.’ Mistral stopped him. ‘I was coming home.’
Leaving Mistral and Fabian holding hands and gazing at each other, Phantom wandered over to the window to greet his godson.
‘Good morning,’ he said, taking the now sleeping baby from his twin. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Now, I hope you’re listening because I’ve prepared a selection of stories about your mother and I thought we could start with my personal favourite.’ Settling himself onto the only chair in the room, Phantom rocked his godson in his arms and began to tell him a story in a musical voice. ‘Once upon a time there was a young warrior called Mistral who went on a hunt with all of her brothers for a big bad manticore, but the manticore had a special poison in the spines of its tail that made –’
‘Not the manticore story!’ Mistral muttered quickly.
Fabian laughed and bent his head to kiss her, murmuring softly, ‘You never have told me the full story of the manticore hunt.’
‘No, well, a girl’s got to have some secrets hasn’t she?’
‘Actually, you have another secret we would all like to know.’ Phantasm said from the window.
‘Really? Considering my inability to lie I doubt it! What is it that you think I’ve been hiding from you brother?’
‘Our godson’s name.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Mistral looked down at the bed sheet and picked at the hem in a familiar distracted action. ‘Well, Fabian and I haven’t really discussed that yet, although I have had an idea.’
Fabian smiled and caught her hand, raising it to his lips he kissed each finger then turned it over to kiss the palm, ‘We will name him as you wish, my love. All I ask is that we reveal it at the appropriate time.’
‘When’s that then?’ Mistral asked, gazing at Fabian with a look that the twins had come to recognise and privately term as “Mistral with Brain Disengaged”.
‘At his Naming Ceremony.’
‘Oh, right … and when’s that?’
‘Next week, Mistral, we booked it ages ago, or loosely booked it, since we had to guess at the duration of your pregnancy.’ Phantasm sighed.
‘Guess?’ Cain queried sharply, entering the room with a platter of food and a pitcher of water in his hands. ‘I rather think I gave quite an accurate predicated date, don’t you?’
‘You weren’t bad brother.’ Phantasm agreed and walked over to regard Mistral with a slightly critical look. ‘Now, I think that once you have eaten we ought to get you tidied up a bit before the others arrive.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Mistral looked at him in alarm. ‘Have I missed something?’
‘Yes, as usual.’ Phantasm said briskly. ‘Xerxes, Brutus, Samson, Grendel and, sorry about this one but he is the Divinus, the Divinus will be arriving in about two hours’ time. So, with Cain’s approval, I think a bath and a change of clothes are in order.’
‘Oh come on brother, I’ve just given birth!’
‘With enviable ease Mistral.’ Cain chided. ‘Most women labour for days, not a mere two hours!’
‘Ease?’ Mistral glared at Cain with something close to murder in her eyes.
‘Well, I appreciate that there was some effort involved –’
‘Effort?’ Mistral seethed, leaning forward threateningly. ‘I’ll give you effort you jumped-up hob! Oh damn! Where are my knives when I need them?’
‘Shh!’ Phantom hissed from the chair. ‘Don’t wake my godson! And we’ll have less of the bad language if you please!’
‘Oh, for crying out loud!’ Mistral muttered under her breath and sank back into the pillows with a resigned look on her face. ‘I suppose I should just be grateful there are no dresses here for you to force me to wear.’
‘That’s what you think.’ Phantasm said to himself then smiled beatifically at her. ‘I’ll go prepare your bath while you eat.’
‘Oh, I’m allowed to do that am I?’ Mistral retorted and tore off a chunk of bread while Fabian started laughing. ‘What’s so funny?’ She demanded through a mouthful of bread.
Fabian shook his head, smiling at her with a mixture of love, exasperation and amusement, ‘The first time I ever witnessed you three bickering I assumed it was a phase that would run its course. I never realised it would actually form the basis of your friendship.’
Mistral chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread then swallowed, ‘I admit, the prospect of killing them both one day is the only thing that keeps them alive … if they were dead I would be robbed of that one, heart-warming thought you see.’
‘I know you don’t mean that!’ Phantasm called from the kitchen where he was heating water for her bath.
‘Do!’ Mistral called back. ‘And I’m not wearing that dress you’ve packed!’
‘Are! Your brothers are going to be introduced to your first born Mistral, it’s an important occasion!’
‘First born?’ Mistral spluttered. ‘What? Are you counting no
w? And do you plan on bullying me like this for the second born?’
‘Of course! It’s my destiny!’
‘Tell him Fabian!’ she whispered angrily. ‘Or I’ll refuse to have a second born!’
‘Oh?’ Fabian murmured, his velvet gaze following his finger while it traced a slow line from her wrist to her elbow, up her arm to travel across her exposed collarbones. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, curses.’ Mistral sighed, falling helplessly into the liquid depths of his gaze. ‘Second born … third born … I think we’re probably going to have a whole tribe –’
By midday their house was bursting at the seams with the twins, Cain, Xerxes, Marietta, Brutus, Grendel, Liliana, Samson, Gemma and Leo all crammed into the living room and spilling out onto the balcony. Floris had sent a hamper of food and wine as a gift and the twins were unloading it onto the kitchen table, watched closely by Prospero.
‘Clovis sent this for my godson.’ Samson announced, carrying a wooden crib into the room and placing it by the stairs. ‘He said something about you probably not having one yet, despite having had ten months to get prepared.’
Mistral laughed and walked over to look at the crib; it was solidly made of dark wood and sat on curved struts. Nudging it with her foot she was impressed when it rocked soundlessly with a gentle motion. Moving her sleeping baby over into the crook of one arm, she ran a finger down each spindle, checking for splinters, but each was smoother than glass beneath her touch. Mistral smiled fondly, imagining Clovis spending hours making it and sanding away every last hint of roughness, knowing she wouldn’t have even thought about needing something like this.
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