Chapter Eleven

My belly swells as the weeks pass, rounding outward in a gentle curve. Eugen's remains flat, and at last the morning comes when the attendants come for him, but leave me behind in our room, my protests falling on deaf ears.

Some time later, more priests arrive, wearing the smocks of healers. They take me to another wing of the temple; unlike the breeding wing, the rooms here are large and bright, windows letting in sunlight and cool breezes, the air scented with herbs. I think Eugen would do well here, in these warm and airy rooms, before I remember that the only reason the priests bring us here is to birth the gods' young.

To either side of the long room, beds line the walls. For the first time, I see other omegas, heavily pregnant, lying abed or shuffling along the sunlit walks. I already feel huge, bloated, but the bellies surrounding me dwarf mine, and I shiver at the thought of growing so large.

An acolyte points me to an empty bed. "The Infirmarian will tend to you soon. Do not leave this bed until he gives you leave."

I sink onto the mattress, feeling oddly alone. Eugen has been beside me since the start of this strange life, and I miss him fiercely.

The Infirmarian is a stern-faced man, his hair braided back, his clothing the crisp white of the healers. He examines me thoroughly, his touch impersonal, making it clear without saying that I am one of many, and of little interest to him.

Once he has examined me, he gives orders to the acolytes and tells me that when I have eaten, I may take my exercise along the outer walk of the Infirmarium.

When they leave I feel very alone, even though I am surrounded by others of my kind.

Eventually, I venture out, walking the circuit of the Infirmarium's outer chambers. The other omegas watch, but don't speak to me; most seem to be in pairs, and I have no interest in their company. Watching them together reminds me of the constant ache of Eugen's absence, and soon I return to my bed and sleep, dreaming of Arun's rough claimings, Oran's gentler touch, and Eugen, always Eugen.

The steady growth of my belly is my only marker of time, for each day is like the one before. I worry that Eugen will not quicken, or that he will, that his weakened body has not survived being the focus of two gods and I will find myself alone after the birth.

Even when the Infirmarian tells me that my rapidly-swelling belly is due to carrying twins, when my back begins to ache under their weight and my ankles swell, I worry more for Eugen than for myself. The transformation in my own body seems unreal, my engorged frame alien to me, and so my mind focuses on the pale, slender body I remember with such longing.

Surrounded by other omegas, I learn that the length of our confinement varies, that the gods' seed grows differently in each of us. Even the Infirmarian can't know for certain, but he believes I am less than halfway through this pregnancy when Eugen is at last led through the doors.

I want to jump up and greet him, but the weight of the twins holds me down, and I have to struggle into a sitting position, watching hungrily as he is led to a bed halfway down the room, the drape wrapped low on his hips showing the clear curve of his belly.

I yearn to go to him, hold him, but my gravid body is too unwieldy. I can only watch as the Infirmarian examines him, his impassive face giving no clue of Eugen's condition. When he leaves I lever myself to my feet, making my slow, ungainly way down the aisle between beds, to where Eugen sits propped against the pillows.

His face lights when I settle awkwardly onto the edge of his bed, and he sets the plate of food he was given aside, catching my hand in his. "Jaro! You are well?"

"I'm fine," I assure him, covering his hand with my free one. Eugen's eyes are fixed on my rounded belly, with its straining skin and fine tracery of silver lines. "But ...you?"

His free hand rests on his stomach, cradles its gentle swell. "I am well," he says. "Arun has been demanding, but…" He flushes. "When Oran has mounted me of late, he is...gentle. Tender. I could imagine it was you claiming me. Your child inside me."

My breath shudders in my throat, and I cup his cheek, draw him close and kiss him. He returns the kiss eagerly, his lips parting, his tongue sliding against my own, his warmth a comfort I've missed fiercely. His hand curls around the back of my neck, holding me close, and I want nothing more than to stay here, trading kisses with him, reassuring myself that he is well.

I yearn for him, but my body is too unwieldy, too weary from the demands of the twins, and when the priests intervene to send me back to my bed, I don't argue.