Animus was as he’d remembered it. A small village sat outside the capital of Vesta. It was hardly worth noting. Other than the surplus of orphans and farmland, Animus was hardly a place visited.

Which made it perfect.

It’d taken a lot of pleading on his part, but Kiirion had finally convinced you to leave with him. He couldn’t stomach the thought of being so far from you, especially as you were now.

“Is the room too bright?” Kiirion asked. He should cover the windows, or perhaps you needed more pillows on the bed. The cottage he’d purchased, further away from every other soul in Animus, was old. Were you uncomfortable?

Kiirion was familiar with nerves. Before a kill he could feel his mind turning in on itself—but this was different.

You were carrying his child—children, if the healer was to be believed. Twins, they’d said. Kiirion did not know whether to believe them or not. He could hardly wrap his mind around the fact he’d be a father in a handful of months.

“No one should bother you,” he continued, because he needed to cover up his fear. Kiirion had to be strong for you. “They know you’re with me.”

A human—especially one carrying half-elves—would likely be met with scorn by the other Elves. Kiirion would not lose you again; he would not make another mistake. When he’d left you he thought it was for the better, and when he’d come back and you didn’t turn him away, he knew where he belonged.

Odara, the human kingdom, was not safe for you. Kiirion doubted his own kingdom, Vesta, was. The overwhelming urge to keep you away from everything was making him insufferable. It was as though he wanted to make up for whatever time he’d lost.