“But…I feel fine,” I protest. “There’s no need to bother Maylak when I feel fine.”
“I have known Aehako all his life,” Kemli says wisely as she stirs her tea with a fingertip, pushing the leaves around. “He is all humor and charm, but he is also very protective. When he worries, he cannot hide his feelings behind a smile. Do you know that I offered to make bone broth with his last kill, and he looked outraged that I even suggested it?”
I gasp, shocked. “What? Why?”
“Because it was one of the fanged hoppers with a long tail, and you know how strong they smell if cut wrong. He worried it would smell in the cavern and he did not want your stomach upset.” Her mouth twitches again. “It was just a simple suggestion, but the next thing I knew, he’d decided to take his kill out to the cache. I suspect he hid it so I would not make broth without him knowing. He’s been making others cook at the far end of the cave, too. As far away from you as possible.”
I’m surprised. I had no idea this was going on, though I have noticed that there hasn’t been a lot of cooking scents lately. I thought maybe I was just not noticing them. “Oh, but…”
Kemli waves a hand in the air. “He is to be a father for the first time. Everyone puts up with it. We are all excited to see your little one be born.” Her smile grows warm and she looks at my belly as if she can see the barely noticeable bump underneath my thick clothing. Her voice lowers and she leans closer to me. “It has been a while since kits crawled around these caves. To think that there are three to be born. It is like the tribe is waking up from a long sleep. We are all very eager to have more young born.”
“Even so,” I protest. “Everyone has to cook. You can’t live your lives tiptoeing around me just because I’m pregnant and will be for a while. I’m just one person.”
“Ah, but you carry hope in your belly.”
“Well, so do Georgie and Liz—”
“But you are here,” Kemli points out. “They have the healer with them. You do not. And Asha is here in this cave.”
Oh, I know all about Asha. My mood sours as I think about the annoying woman and how she used to hit on Aehako. It’s been months and I still haven’t gotten used to her being around. Every time I see her, I want to punch her in the face with jealousy, so we stay apart.
Her weathered blue hand covers my smaller one. “Be kind to your mate. The last kit to be born was Asha’s and it did not live. You must forgive Aehako if he worries more than he should.”
God. I immediately feel like the world’s biggest jerk. That’s why Kemli says Aehako’s worried. It doesn’t have to do with Asha’s flirting but the death of her baby. “Of course,” I manage, touching my belly. “I really do think everything is fine, though.”
“I imagine it is,” Kemli says with a chuckle. “You are human, but still strong and healthy.”
“Thanks?”
She pats my shoulder. “It will just take time for him to get used to fatherhood.”
“How much time?”
Her eyes twinkle. “How much longer until the kit is born?”
I groan. “That long, huh?” I sip my tea, and try not to grimace at the flavor. It’s a mixture I always liked before, but now that I’m pregnant, the taste feels a little too strong, a little too bitter. I don’t want to turn it down, though, because I’m acutely aware of how much effort goes into every bite of food and every sip of water. Nothing here comes from a spout or a grocery store. Tea leaves have to be gathered and cleaned and stored, and even the smallest cup of tea shouldn’t go to waste.
But if I drink it, I’ll barf, and then Aehako will flip his lid, and then the rest of the day will be shot and—
Kemli drains her cup and smacks her lips. “I do love strong tea. Is yours to your liking?”
“It’s great,” I say, holding it up. “Thank you so much.”
She lifts her chin, indicating my drink. “Shall I finish that for you?”
With a sheepish smile, I hold the cup out to her. “I think the baby doesn’t like strong flavors.”
“When my belly was full of my youngest, I hated the taste of red meat.” She waves a hand in the air and rolls her eyes. “That was a very long three full turns of the seasons.”
I’ll bet. A lot of the diet here is red meat. I can’t imagine living three years on fish and roots. I chuckle at her expression. “So what did you—”