Book 12: Cry Me a River

Aviva

“No one needs to worry about me,” Sarah says confidently, cradling the swell of her belly as she leads our group through the woods toward the lake. “I’m not going to go into labor right now, I promise.”

Sydney grumbles something under his breath in response, the words drifting on the warm breeze making the leaves dance above our heads. Ryan’s hand is on my lower back–a warm, solid presence. Lexa’s asleep in her sling on his back, and when I look up at the two of them–with Ryan wearing a traditional Endovian sling and his face cast in uncertain shadows–I feel a prickle of regret. 

Part of me believes I shouldn’t have told him about what I saw in the forge. The past lives I walked through, the wars, the downfall of our kind… and most importantly, the fact that in another life, we lost our children and were separated for decades, only to find each other again in the very last moments before we both died. 

It stings to think about