With a heavy breaths, he picks me up and kisses my neck as he brings me, still wrapped around him tight, to sit with him in front of the big TV. I’ve been making him watch some of my favorite shows. His confused comments and questions always make my day.
“Here,” he says, lifting up a glass of water and holding it up. “To the woman who saved my life in many more ways than one. And to Vaelor, may he arrive swinging a sword.”
It’s an old Mahdfel saying; I’ve heard it many times now.
I lift up my glass of half-finished spicy Firosan tea beside him and lift it up with a smile. “Cheers,” I say, looking into the perfection of his golden eye set right beside the bionic eye. “To us.”
He sets our glasses down and kisses me again.
I know, in that moment and the next moment, and the next … there is nowhere I would rather be than right here, on the soft, squishy sofa-chair, beside my warrior king with his son growing inside me.
Together we can rebuild his broken society. I know it. But for now, we are going to lie here and watch Earth television shows, our hands intertwined. I know everything will be fine.
I can feel it in my gut.
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