"I think you're in the wrong profession, dewdrop," Sleet laughed the next day, chest deep in a summer lake with her and a physical therapist.
"Alright, I don't know if this and the baby will use up dust fast, so this has to be a short session." Moving her hands made Sleet jump as the water pushed and supported him through natural walking movements parallel to the shore. "Does it feel alright?"
He actually smiled. "Yes. It feels good like I'm truly walking."
"Wait," she panted. "I can't clear a path, hold you up, and move the water to walk you all at once."
She was suddenly lifted up and her heart pressed to his.
"This is too much while being pregnant," he protested.
"No, I just need more dust." She wiggled free and trudged up to the shore where the bag of dust sat. Scooping a handful and pressing it to her chest to soak in helped chase away the exhaustion.
A scream of pain and then bolt of panic through Sleet's glow.
"Noooooo!" It was a scream of pure terror—terror too great to be for himself. The Darkness in his glow around her heart surged. Something came for her and the baby.
Alamur.
Surging every ounce of talent possible to be ready for anything, she spun and threw up a wall of water while blasting into the sky with flaps so hard that they'd knock back anything that tried to follow.
It was then that she spun to find Sleet in the water with a dozen Alamur attacking him.
The therapist shot past. "I'll get Lord Milori!"
But he'd get here with the army too late.
The Alamur crawled all over him, having no interest in her. They didn't know about the baby. They were here to kill him.
Raising her arms, the only chance of fighting that many Alamur alone was to drown them. There'd be no way to tell which one was Sleet. It would have to be for as long as his glow around her heart lasted. And so she summoned a wave that swallowed them all up.
Holding back the nausea of doing something so evil, she squeezed to hold them under as they began to struggle. Tears welled. Sleet needed her to do this. And she couldn't. They couldn't swim with their wings wet. Diving down, she shoved them to the surface and hoped to be strong enough to grab Sleet.
Grabbing his arm, she pulled but couldn't hold tight enough to keep him from slipping.
"No!" he screamed as the Alamur tried to grab her. "Go!" He used his grip to shove her backwards into the sky. And then more Alamur rained down from the sky.
In the next blink of an eye, the Alamur were gone. And so was Sleet.
Six days. It'd been nearly one agonizing week of trying to find Sleet in every land possible.
He didn't have any of his medical equipment...if he was even still alive for it to matter.
"Silvermist, you need to rest," Spruce ordered when she tried to get out of the hospital bed. "You haven't faded from him being gone for so long, like a Bright Fairy, but your glow is weaker without him."
Rubbing her belly, she swallowed hard. "I can't feel his glow. Why would they take him if not to kill him?"
Spruce looked at her with sad eyes. "I wish I knew. Lord Milori has the army out looking for him. Sleet isn't going to give you up without a Neverland of a fight. Are you still feeling the baby move frequently?"
Tears burned. "He's moving less. He's too little yet to do surgery to get him out before I fade, isn't he?"
He set a hand on her arm. "We aren't going down that road. He's going to be fine, and the Queen is coming in a bit to bring fresh dust to keep you strong. We're going to find Sleet."
By the next evening, the Queen and Fawn held her hands as Spruce did another ultrasound after having trouble finding a heartbeat.
"Sometimes the babies just want to play hide and seek. This happens all the time with the animals," Fawn promised. But she glanced at the Queen in concern.
"That's right. We're going to figure out what to do until Milori can find Sleet," the Queen promised.
Terrified tears escaped. "If Sleet faded, the baby's going to die, too." The crying turned into sobs when the ultrasound showed the baby's glow flickering.
"Clarion, what do we do?" Spruce whispered.
The baby was the only piece of Sleet left. The grief ten folded, and it hurt to even be alive.
Something smashed through the window too fast to even see. Suddenly, she was crushed in a tight hug and the room was so bright it hurt to look.
"I'm here. I'm sorry. I'm here, dewdrop."
Shock made it impossible to register what was happening.
Everyone stood back from the bed, their eyes wide.
Sleet.
A hard chest pressed to hers. Her glow warmed. The baby kicked. "Sleet?" she breathed.
"Don't move, sweetheart—I have Alamur sugar on me. I came as soon as I could. I know it's been a week." His voice was a bit rougher than usual. "Check the baby." He stood up and stepped back to make room for Spruce.
Her jaw fell slack. He moved like the paralysis was gone.
"Thank you, Fawn. Let's get you out to avoid Alamur sugar exposure." The Queen herded Fawn out and closed the door. "How are you not paralyzed?" she hissed, her glow red.
He glanced at the Queen and then turned his attention back to the ultrasound. "Yes, I was transfused with Alamur sugar. It can repair damage like a spinal cord injury, and no, I didn't voluntarily get the transfusion. Are the baby and Silvermist alright?"
"Yes, the baby's glow is stronger, and Silvermist's vitals are coming back up." Spruce answered.
Splatters of black sugar covered him here and there, and there were some fairly minor, as if he'd been in a knife fight. He was sweaty and filthy and never looked more perfect. His eye was still like a slit, although not red.
"I had to hunt you so I could find you as fast as possible," he said quietly, as if reading her thoughts about his eyes. The kept his gaze diverted.
More energy returned every second. She sat up higher after Spruce finished. "You still have Alamur sugar?" Her heart took off. He'd already had two transfusions in the past year, and they nearly killed him.
His glow flashed brighter in response to her fear. He gave a bitter snort and waved his hand as his glow answered that question.
Spruce ran his hands over his face. "How long? The longer you're infused, the harder it is to keep you from fading during the transfusion."
He glanced at her. "A week. They did it the same night they attacked." Then his eye darted to the Queen.
"Why are you not dead?" the Queen blurted and set her hands on her hips.
Sleet pressed his lips together and released a deep sigh. "Yes, it's what you're thinking, and no, I didn't talk."
She frowned when the Queen's brow furrowed with concern. "What's what she's thinking? What are you thinking?" There was something Sleet didn't want her to know. And there was a terrible feeling about why.
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, dewdrop."
"And are they coming after you?" the Queen pressed.
Again, he pressed his lips together, shook his head, and glanced over quickly.
"Spruce, start his treatment in another room. I need to talk to him," she ordered. Then the Queen looked back at Sleet. "Did you happen to run into Milori, or is he still out there trying to rescue you?"
Sleet frowned, looking quite fierce with his eye like a slit yet. "Rescue me? Why would you send fairies out to rescue an Alamur from the Alamur?! No, I didn't run into him!" He shoved a hand through his hair. "As long as I have heightened hunting skills, I may as well go find him and call off the search party," he barked. Then he looked at her and pointed a finger. "Stay in that bed so you and the baby can rest. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."
Queen Clarion frowned. "He could be in any land. It could take days—"
He rolled his eye. "I'm the damn King of Horrors. If I can't hunt down a Bright Fairy General within seconds, we have bigger problems." Then he was gone so fast that some of the lighter furniture suctioned toward the window.
The Queen threw up her arms. "No respect. I don't know why I even try with him."
Spruce tried to hide a laugh. "Well, he is a king, so I think formalities go out the window."
She pointed a finger. "He was like that before."
"Like when he was a prince?" Spruce muttered.
The Queen cocked an eyebrow. "If th—"
A gust of wind and Sleet stood in the room again. "He's on his way back. He was in Neverland." He set his hands on his hips.
But the Queen simply blinked at him a couple times. "You went to Neverland and back that fast?"
"Yes. As long as I have Alamur abilities, is there anything else you need done?" Then he gave a lavish bow. "Your Highness?" A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth when he straightened.
Queen Clarion's eyebrows shot up.
"I can hear Bright Fairies for miles." Then he cracked a smile and glanced over, offering a wink. When his head turned back to the Queen, he crossed his brawny arms over his chest and braced his feet apart.
Her heart fluttered. This was certainly interesting watching him be so powerful and fast.
That cool, aloof expression veiled the Queen's face. "I don't want you running around contaminating Pixie Hollow with Alamur sugar. You'll go with Spruce now to turn back into a weak Bright Fairy. And don't expect a bow from me, Captain."
"I would never," he replied with a poor attempt at a straight face, clearly enjoying baiting the Queen.
To which she replied with an irritated sigh.
The smile left his face and he said in a solemn tone, "I need a moment with my wife. I won't touch her."
Hesitation filled Queen Clarion's eyes. When Sleet leaned forward and whispered something, her face turned to heartbreak and she left with Spruce.
He stared at the floor for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he dropped his arms and approached, blinking hard like he tried to return his eyes to normal.
"You can't," she said softly, the guilt mounting. "You're the king now and have Alamur sugar. The last king's eyes were like that, too."
A wrinkle creased his brow, and he wouldn't quite look at her. "I don't want to frighten you—"
"You couldn't ever frighten me." Then she scooted to sit at the end of the bed since he wouldn't come closer, and held out a hand.
Sadness filled his glow around her heart as he shook his head. "I won't risk touching you again."
Swallowing hard, the guilt grew. "They caught you because I couldn't stomach to drown them," she breathed the terrible confession. "What did they do to you?" A tear fell.
His eye flew to her. "I didn't want you to have to kill anyone. This is not your fault." Then his shoulders sagged and he pulled off the eyepatch. "I need you to be ready for it that the paralysis might return with the transfusion."
More tears burned.
"Do you remember how I said Alamur aren't injured or ill for long? And how healing is faster?"
She nodded with a sniffle.
"The sugar speeds healing. It creates a more lethal predator. This band of Alamur were rebels. They heard that the king was paralyzed, and they knew a transfusion would heal my back and wanted me to use them to rebuild an army…with the agreement that they'd have top ranks."
"You knew, didn't you? You knew that turning back into an Alamur would fix your back, but you chose not to." It was impossible to stop her chin from quivering as more tears threatened. "I thought I lost you. You almost faded with the last transfusions. This will be three in less than two years. And it might bring back the paralysis? I…" Her voice broke with heartache so deep that it hurt to breathe. "I can't let you. I can't let you go back to the wheelchair and autonomic dysreflexia and catheter and maybe even die getting the transfusion. You've given up a life as a king for me. You can't give up your health, too. Sleet, I'd rather never touch you again than let you give up your health and maybe life."
"Let me?" He cracked a watery smile with tears in his eyes. "You think a little fairy like you can stop the King of Horrors from doing anything?" The smile and teasing faded. "It's not a question of letting me do anything. I'd rather have no legs at all than to never touch you again. I'll always choose you, dewdrop." He stepped closer and reached out to cup her cheek, but his hand didn't caress, the ache in his glow so very painful from being unable to touch. "Promise you'll behave and not come until Spruce says it's safe," he rasped in a thick voice. Then he headed for the door as he replaced the eyepatch.
"Sleet!" she cried and shot to her feet. "Please, don't. The paralysis almost broke you."
He turned near the door and looked straight into her heart. "We can handle paralysis. What will break me is having you forever out of reach. This is my choice, and my choice alone." He walked out.
"No! Sleet!" she sobbed and ran after him. It was only the fact that his glow shined unnaturally bright from her pain in a hall filled with fairies that stopped from chasing him.
Thinking of Silvermist was the only thing that made the agonizing pain bearable. Writhing on the bed turned more into clutching the bedrails as numbness set in from the waist down. That numbness was likely what kept away the fainting from pain this time, dammit.
"She was hysterical when I told her you've lost all sensation," Spruce said upon entry. "I was going to sedate her."
"Why the fucking…Neverland did you…tell her!" he roared between pants. "Ugh! Shit!" Grabbing the rails and squeezing his eyes shut helped brace against the fire that suddenly lapped from head to toes. Metal groaned under his hands as sweat ran down. Alamur senses could tell Spruce was within reach. Snatching a fistful of the medical coat, he ripped Spruce closer and seethed in his face between clenched teeth, so furious that his eyes must be red, "You tell her nothing." Then a sharp pain ripped through the gut and forced doubling over and a cry of pain.
A peacefulness suddenly filled the room and soothing warmth filled his glow, a welcomed distraction from the electric shock sensations spreading up his legs. Forcing his eyes open, Silvermist stood there with tears on her face and a hand over her heart.
Every muscle locked, trying to go into a seizure, like last time. No, not with Silvermist here to see it. The horrid part of these transfusion seizures was the complete awareness of the searing pain. The thrashing started, trapped in this body that had a mind of it's own. Oh shit, here came the pain.
"Neverland, Sleet, don't do this," Spruce swore. "Nurse!"
A beautiful singing voice washed over a like a wave, creating a sedative affect that made muscles relax and pulled over the mind mind like a blissful blanket of nothingness.
She pressed cotton into Spruce's ears, and he suddenly blinked. Then he looked down at Sleet, who stared blankly at the ceiling and then his eyelids drooped. He laid quiet, with the monitors showing his blood pressure and heart rate coming down.
"Can you keep him in a trance until the worst of the transfusion is over?" Spruce called.
With a nod, she glanced behind to the hall. The singing was soft enough to not entrance anyone else. She stepped closer and stroked his cheek with a finger, careful to avoid any cuts.
A small, dreamy smile touched his lips, either slightly aware of her or seduced by the siren's touch.
Pulling up a chair, she sang softly and stroked his cheek and hair for the next hour. No pain could be felt from him.
"Silvermist, from the little I can hear from in the hall, it sounds like your throat is getting hoarse. Stop singing just long enough to sip this tea for five minutes," Spruce set a cup on the bed tray.
She shook her head, despite each note feeling like sandpaper scraping. Then she pointed to Sleet's heart and then her throat.
"I know he can heal it. What I'm saying is your throat will give out before he's done with the transfusion. Sip this over five or ten minutes. He'll be alright for that long." He pushed the tray toward her and pulled out the cotton from his ears, forcing her to stop.
The moment the song stopped, Sleet slowly blinked like he was disoriented. Then he started to squint, as if in pain.
"He hurts," she rasped.
Spruce held her hands back. "Captain, Silvermist sang to put you in a trance during the transfusion."
"Stop." Her plea came out as a harsh whisper.
Sleet's face contorted in pain and his vitals shot up, but he turned his head to look at her. "What happened...to her voice?" His hand clutched fistfuls of sheets.
"She's been singing for an hour and made herself hoarse. I told her that she needs to drink this tea for five minutes to help before she resumes."
He breathed heavily and trembled as he shook his head. "I'm alright." And he fought to not gasp. "Take her out."
But she grabbed the bedrail to keep Spruce from dragging her out and reached to touch Sleet.
"Please, no," he begged, sweat already running down his brow. "This pain...would kill the baby...maybe even you." Then he started to go rigid again and went into a seizure.
No words came out from the laryngitis.
Spruce and two nurses pushed her back and drew up syringes as Spruce barked orders. "Hurry! His blood pressure is too high!"
The shouts and chaos fell into the background as she rubbed a hand over her heart and tears fell. There. A slight moment of panic—Sleet was fully conscious and didn't want her to see this. Something in his glow was sad.
Sliding the left arm out of the hospital gown, she took a step closer. Her heart raced, afraid of the Alamur sugar and for the baby.
"Sleet, stay with me! Epinephrine! He's going into cardiac arrest!" Spruce ordered.
She took another step up behind Spruce.
Despite her fear, Sleet's glow dimmed. The convulsions grew less violent, as if his body couldn't take the strain much longer.
Flinging open her wings threw everyone away from the bed. She climbed up and pressed her heart to his.
"No! Silvermist!" Spruce yelled. "He has too much Alamur sugar!"
For an instant, the burst of heat from glows binding was all that could be felt. It washed over her throat, healing the laryngitis. And then came the Darkness and pain that made it impossible to even breathe. This evil was unlike anything ever felt before, causing paralysis as horrible images flashed through her mind. Memories. They were Sleet's memories of the past week, of tortures he'd endured while the Alamur tried to get him to tell secrets of Pixie Hollow and other kingdoms. She screamed from the pain and torture and evil, but her throat remained paralyzed. A tear slid from the corner of her unblinking eyes.
Sleet's face came into view as she was rolled onto her side. He wept and his voice drifted through the Darkness. "But it's too much evil, it's paralyzing her with fear! I have to unbind our glows!"
"No!" Spruce ordered. "Your glows being bound is the only thing keeping her and the baby alive. She has Alamur sugar on her. As long as you don't let go, she might survive."
Their voices were drowned out by horrific screams. Sleet's screams. Bright Fairy sugar everywhere. Knives, needles, saws...they drained the Bright Fairy sugar from him any way possible.
A scream ripped out, making it out of her throat this time. Alamur approached with a knife and set it to Sleet's bad hip. Pain exploded. "No! I won't tell you! Fucking bastards!" she screamed.
"Oh Neverland, she's living my memories. Get a sedative or something!" Sleet's voice yelled and arms wrapped around tighter as thrashing started.
"Sedative won't work! We've tried it on you!" Spruce barked.
"Go! Maybe mating will pull the pain and evil back into me."
Blissful nothingness a moment later as the pain and nightmares ended. Then a distant awareness of being held safe in Sleet's arms replaced the fear. Movement began to return, and she slowly wrapped her arms around him as he very gently made slow love. "Sleet?"
"I'll keep the Darkness away, sweetheart," he whispered and pressed kisses along her neck. "You must keep your heart against mine to survive the Alamur sugar on you."
"Do you hurt?"
"It's tolerable if our glows are fully bound while making love." He breathed a little too hard from pain. "Don't you ever do something that reckless again."
"You were fading. Sleet," she breathed, "it's hard to talk when you're such a good lover."
A soft snort. "I should be offended that...you find me as good when in pain as when I...I'm working hard to please you."
The won a small smile as she closed her eyes. "Roll me on top so I can distract you from hurting."
He did and seemed to bask in the kisses and caresses without moving her heart away from his.
"Do you hurt less, my king?"
That won a lazy smile with his eyes closed. "Much less. Mm, I like the sound of that. You know, you're technically a queen."
"Hm. I didn't think of that. Silver, you're the only thing that kept me going through a week of hell. Take a very long time to make love," he purred. "Do you hurt?"
"No," she breathed. "I didn't think I'd see you again. Sleet, I don't want to leave bed for days." Her head fell back as he stroked a hand down her neck.
"Neverland, dewdrop, I don't know how I haven't sent you into labor from doing nothing but loving you the past two days."
Pushing the sheet down to stroke her belly as he took a drink of water from the nightstand, a lazy smile pulled. "I think it puts her to sleep. Come practice more PT, husband."
He grinned and crawled across the bed, working hard to not drag his weak legs. "If I didn't like my rewards so much, I'd refuse to crawl around like an invalid in front of you." He leaned a hand on her bent knee to push up onto his and manually position his legs to hold his weight.
"Ah, you're far from an invalid. You have more use of your legs than before, and you no longer have special needs with the bathroom." She grinned and lifted her other leg to trail a toe down his chest.
He growled and snatched her leg to trail kisses to her knee. "You're too bold for your own good, dewdrop. For all we know, my legs are weak because you're exhausting me more than should be physically possible." But he grinned and leaned down on his hands. "It's a small price to pay to worship my dewdrop," he breathed, his lips nearly touching hers.
She opened her mouth to kiss him.
"I think it's time for the baby to get some exercise." He pulled back and rolled over, taking her with to straddle his hips.
"Oh!" she squeaked in surprise and flung her hands down on his chest to catch herself.
He simply smiled. "I won't let you fall."
Adjusting to make room for her belly, she settled and rubbed a hand over his heart. "Do you regret trading in everything for the paralysis?"
His eyes rolled back. "Never. I couldn't bear to never touch or heal you again." Then he pulled her down for a deep kiss.
"Sleet," she whispered between his passionate kisses.
He grunted deep in his chest, completely preoccupied.
"Spruce had to do a lot of ultrasounds on the baby while you were gone." She tilted her head away to be able to talk, but he moved over to kissing her neck and stroking her wings instead.
"He's alright?"
"She is."
The kisses slowed and then he stilled, as if finally absorbing the words. He frowned and met her eyes. "She?"
Biting her lip, a smile tugged. "The Queen got more knowledge, too."
He frowned. "So the successor will be the Lady of Winter?"
She shook her head. "It's still Lord."
"So then who has the Lord?"
"We do." So much joy overflowed. "The Queen learned that sirens can have multiple babies."
"What?!" He shot up so fast that he almost clunked noses. His hands clutched her hips and sat her back on his thighs. "We're having two babies?"
"Well, not at once. The Queen said she doesn't think twins are possible for fairies. And it might be a few tries before we get a son."
"What?!" His eyes bugged.
Oh dear, this wasn't going well. Best to get the shock over with. "She said that there isn't too much knowledge of sirens having babies, but from what knowledge she did get, it's often four."
"What?!"
"Or five," she winced. "But definitely not more than six."
He stared with a slack jaw, like a terrified rabbit.
Her wings lowered with heartbreak. "Spruce said there may be things to do to try to ensure the next one is a son. The Queen said after a male is born, oftentimes the siren becomes infertile again."
"No." He shoved a hand through his hair. "Just slow down for a minute." Then he set his hands on her belly. "This one's a female? For certain?"
She nodded. "He checked four times."
"I just...Silvermist, I don't know that I'm the best one to be a father. And to that many? I'm the damn King of Horrors! You don't want children being raised by me."
"The Princess adores you."
"She's too little to understand what I am!"
Sliding off his lap, she pulled up the blanket to cover up. "I thought—"
"Don't hide your body from me." He eased the blanket down and scooped her up to sit in his lap. "You thought, what?"
With a shrug, she glanced up at his concerned face. "I was so happy to hear that we get to have a lot of babies. I thought maybe you would be, too."
He heaved a deep sigh. "I am happy about that, but at the same time, I'm terrified of being too evil to be raising little ones. My fear is that as they get older and start to understand what I am, they'll be afraid and you'll end up being like the only parent to multiple little ones. On top of it, I have to use a walker or a wheelchair—I don't want to saddle you with a hard life."
She frowned. "Your physical needs are so much less than they were before. Even so, you don't make this a hard life. And I would take twenty babies because it's making a family with you. We don't have to have more than two babies. We should eat some breakfast." She slid off his lap and grabbed her robe.
"Silver? I didn't mean to flip out on you. It was a shock, and—"
"Don't," she said softly and turned to face him. "Don't make excuses. I'd rather have your true reaction than lies." Even if the truth broke her heart.
"Wait. I'm botching this up and I can feel in your glow that you're hurt. This misunderstanding is getting bigger. Sit." He patted across the bed.
"Sleet," she said honestly and rubbed the baby, "I think we need to finish this conversation after the birth. I'm feeling really self-conscious about having a big belly and knowing I'll have to do it once more while we're talking about not wanting more babies."
"That's not what we're talking about and exactly why we need to finish this conversation now. Sit. I'll drag myself across the bed and make you sit and talk to me, if I have to."
Sinking onto the edge of the bed, it shifted and wiggled as he pulled himself over and wrapped an arm around her belly from behind. "You're never to be self-conscious of your body, no matter how big the baby needs to grow. My sole concern is that you're both healthy. I've read the books and know there may be changes that'll make you want to be self-conscious, but I'm only going to see my beautiful wife making us a strong baby. Whatever changes happen are temporary, and we'll get through them together, just like with my disability." He nuzzled her ear. "See? If I can admit to having a disability without being ashamed, you can certainly grow us a beautiful daughter without shame."
A small smile pulled.
"I'm worried about being a father, much more so to a half dozen children. That doesn't mean I'm upset or don't want more babies. I quite adore having you swollen and beautiful with my babies, and I would love to space it out so you're either pregnant or nursing the next nearly two decades."
Her eyebrows rose. "That's a long time when put like that. And what if I get all stretched out like humans can after that many babies?"
He grinned. "Even if you do, there will just be more of you to love, sweetheart. I wouldn't mind a wife with more curves. But I have a suspicion that a perk of being a siren is your figure remains in order to lure in males. You're almost halfway through pregnancy, and it's impossible to tell from behind that you're with child."
Her jaw dropped. "Why are you looking at me from behind?!"
The naughty male smiled, caught his finger in her robe tie, and pulled. "Oops."
She giggled.
"Well, I may as well prove my point that you're still delicious." Then he laid her on the bed.