Arrow Lake ❝—by my blood & bone.❞ (lbr.)

The woman gave him the names Aure had told him before, and the relief, the joy, that overcame him was so powerful, he didn't bother to correct Mahler's error. No, he slipped past them both, looking into the den, the two opposite-hued babies nestled at Aure's belly. He stared for a long time at them, eyes wide, before looking to the woman who'd brought them into the world.

Oh, Aure, Vercingetorix said, his voice filled with a tenderness he scarcely used. He sucked in a breath and found that it was a sob, and then more sobs came, and then the tears, too. They're so beautiful. They're so perfect. Oh my God.

This can't be real. But the negative connotations of that thought were gone. Now, all he felt was a surreal sort of jubilation that spread throughout his body, buzzing even in the tips of his toes. He laid down, looking at his—their—children while weeping silently, staying until he had exhausted himself, emotionally and physically, enough to doze off.