Jennifer Roberson - Sword Sworn

I woke the baby up. Del said something about having two screaming infants in her house, and then she very suddenly lay down next to me.

Ridding my mouth of cloth, I croaked, "You all right?"

Her head moved against mine in a weak nod.

I glanced at Alric, who was dropping the knife into a wooden bowl. "You enjoyed that. Making me yell."

He grinned. "So I did."

Now I looked at Neesha. "Still want to be a sword-dancer, after seeing that?"

He drew in a breath. "After seeing that, I want to be nothing else."

Guess it was in the kid’s blood after all. I smiled faintly to tell him I approved, then rolled my head toward Del. I heard the sounds of Neesha and Alric leaving. The baby had gone back to sleep. I thought her mother was on the verge herself. "You awake?"

Her voice was a breath of sound. "Barely."

"I have a question."

She was fading fast. So was I. "What?"

"Who’s really the best? You or me?"

Del lifted her head enough to stare at me in wide-eyed, rigid disbelief. Then dropped it back down again. "I guess we’ll just have to have a dance to find out."

"All right. Tomorrow?"

"Fine," she murmured.

I turned my head enough to feel her hair against my face. Opened my mouth to tell her we’d have to be vigilant about the men who lusted after our daughter — and then exhaustion hit me over the head with a cantina stool.

A woman. A son. A daughter.

Was this what I had expected?

No.

But it was what I had dared to dream, at night among the Salset.