“You are the Keriv’i male that impregnated this human?” Kxiwi asked, tilting her head in speculation as her gaze assessed Khiva.

Khiva’s spine seemed to straighten. “Yes.”

As promised, Eve had brought him back to her so she could draw a sample of blood.

“I have never seen a Keriv’i before,” Kxiwi said, “but I have read about your race. Is it true that your ejaculation triggers sexual responses in most species?”

Khiva’s brow ticked up and Eve sighed. The witch of the witch’s hut, Eve had learned, did not have a filter, nor did she censor her words.

Khiva looked at Eve and then slowly said, “Yes, it is true.”

“Interesting,” Kxiwi said. She was almost the same height as Khiva, though he had a more muscular build. “Will you give me a sample of that? I can fetch you a vial. Unless you need something larger.”

“Okay,” Eve cut in sharply, clapping her hands. She looked at the incredulous look on her male’s features and said, “Don’t mind her. She likes samples.”

“I do,” Kxiwi said, nodding. “Your female gave me a sample of her human tears. I have been running tests on them. Most interesting.”

“‘Interesting’ seems to be your favorite word, healer,” Khiva commented, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d been curious about his surroundings since they both stepped foot inside and had murmured to her that she would never be allowed to come alone again.

Kxiwi cocked her head to the side. “So, I suppose you will not give me a sample of your ejaculation?”

“No,” Khiva said immediately.

“Very well,” Kxiwi said, unfazed. “Perhaps another Keriv’i will. I have heard there are many living on Dumera now.”

“The blood sample, Kxiwi?” Eve urged. This was her third visit to the healer but even after her second, she’d learned how distracted the older female could be.

“Yes, yes,” Kxiwi said. “Wait here.”

Then she travelled around the trunk of the jivera tree in the very center of the dwelling to where she brewed her tonics and potions and ran her tests.

“You are sure she is the best healer on Dumera?” Khiva asked quietly.

“Yes,” Eve replied, squeezing his forearm. “All the females at work, who have had children, told me about her. She is a little unconventional, I’ll admit, but that liquid she gave me for morning sickness helped, didn’t it?”

Khiva frowned and she realized she should’ve bit her tongue. Once Khiva had recovered from his trip to the southern tip of Dumera, he’d seen the bottle of blue liquid in the washroom and had asked about its purpose.

Eve had had to admit the depth of her morning sickness while he’d been gone. His guilt had been…severe. He’d been beating himself up over it ever since, for leaving her alone when she’d been sick.

“How long do Keriv’i females gestate youngbloods for?” Kxiwi asked as she came back around the trunk of the tree.

Eve looked at Khiva, curious. She’d never thought to ask, with everything that had been happening.

“We did not mark time in that way,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“If you had to guess how many moon cycles, how many?” Kxiwi pressed. “Humans gestate youngbloods, naturally, for around nine moon cycles.”

Eve’s brows rose. Nine months? Human females had not gestated that long in…centuries perhaps. With modern science and technology, children grew more quickly in the womb. She’d never heard of a female pregnant beyond five months.

“Eleven,” Khiva said. “Or twelve, perhaps.”

Eve almost choked.

“Interesting,” Kxiwi said.

“I’m going to be pregnant for almost a year?” Eve asked slowly, eyeing Khiva.

Kxiwi shrugged her shoulder, jabbing Khiva with a sterile needle unexpectedly to draw a sample of his blood.

“You could be,” the healer said. “Hybrid pregnancies tend to gestate at the rate of the dominant species. Unfortunately for you, human, I believe Keriv’i blood will be dominant in this situation.”

Eve blew out a breath. Terrific.

“We will monitor you,” Kxiwi continued. “You are quite small and Keriv’i are quite large. If the youngblood does take after the father, then the risk is greater.”

“What risks?” Khiva growled.

“All hybrid pregnancies have risks,” Kxiwi said slowly, “as I am sure you are aware, male.”

Eve saw Khiva’s jaw tick and he cast a speculative look at her before blowing out a breath.

“The pregnancy is still early,” Kxiwi said. “It is, however, still a delicate time for the youngblood. To see if he will stay.”

Eve’s lips parted, fear hitting the pit of her stomach. Because it was something that hadn’t occurred to her, that her body might reject the child.

Khiva made a sound in his throat, shifting closer to Eve before she felt his hand spanning over her lower back.

Kxiwi was too preoccupied studying the blue blood in the vial she’d filled to notice her distress.

“Is that all you need?” Khiva asked Kxiwi, eyeing her as one might eye a puzzle.

“Hmm?” Kxiwi asked, breaking her gaze away from the blood. “Yes, yes. You may go. Did you change your mind about the sample of your ejaculation?”

Khiva only gave her a look that Eve might consider exasperated. And Eve had never seen Khiva look exasperated.

Then he ushered her out the door of the witch’s hut and helped her down the ladder alongside the jivera tree.

When they were back on solid ground, he growled, “Are you sure there are no other healers?”

Eve gave him a small smile before running her hands down the bulk of his chest. It was late afternoon on Dumera, the shade of cerulean blue on the clock. Many beings milled around them since Kxiwi’s dwelling was very near to the center of the colony and close to the markets.

“It will be okay, Khiva,” Eve said. “She’s a little…strange, yes. But I don’t doubt her experience or her knowledge as a healer.”

Khiva blew out a breath. “I will trust you in this, female.”

“You have no choice,” she teased.

Khiva gave her a kiss, right there in the middle of the busy road.

She pulled back with a sigh and asked him, “A year, Khiva? Is that true?”

“Pax,” he murmured.

“Let’s hope that the morning sickness doesn’t extend that long or else Kxiwi will spend most of her time brewing me that blue liquid.”

Khiva brushed his hand down the length of her hair, his gaze suddenly going past her shoulder. He stilled.

When Eve turned to see who he was looking at, she saw another Keriv’i male, coming from the direction of the depot, his pace sluggish, his clothes dusty.

In fact, many males—and a few Laoti females—were pouring out from the direction of the depot and Eve knew that the transport vessel from the mines must’ve just dropped them off.

Eve’s lips parted as she watched them all, her heart thumping in her throat. They all looked exhausted, though a few chatted in groups, smiling. All their clothes were dirty, many had cuts along their exposed flesh, all bleeding different colors.

Khiva always looked like these beings coming home, but it was different to see so many, all at once, in similar states.

The pay at the mines was good. More than good. Some days, Khiva brought in more credits than she did at the archives for a full week of work. Then again, the pay had to be good, to constantly deal with the fatigue, the sores, with injuries.

And not for the first time, Eve worried about him.

The Keriv’i male had finally looked up and spotted both of them standing there. Eve watched as his brow furrowed, his gaze studying her, before he veered in their direction.

This was Kavik, she assumed.

He stopped before both of them, his wrist coming up to cross against his chest. A gesture of greeting, of respect, she knew.

Khiva mirrored the motion and said something in Keriv’i, words spoken too fast for her to recognize. Kavik said something back, shifting his eyes to hers.

Khiva’s hand came to her lower back and he said, “Leeldra, meet Kavik.”

“Hello, Kavik,” she said, smiling. “I’m Eve.”

On instinct, she reached out her hand in greeting, a human gesture. Kavik’s gaze went to her hand, cocking his head in confusion, before he hesitantly reached forward. Instead of shaking it, he placed two fingers against her palm before retreating.

Eve bit back a smile as she lowered her hand back to her side.

“I am pleased to hear, female, of your pregnancy,” Kavik said, his English words even more accented than Khiva’s.

“Thank you,” Eve replied, casting a look up at Khiva, knowing he must’ve told him about it during their journey to the southern tip.

Kavik turned to look at Khiva. In English, probably for Eve’s benefit, he said, “I see you have stopped going to the mines. I have not seen you for a few days. Does that mean you have thought about what we discussed?”

Khiva’s hand flexed on her lower back. “Veki,” he said carefully and Eve frowned, looking up at him. What had been discussed about the mines? “My female wanted me home, to rest and recover after our journey, after what we learned. I will return in the morning.”

Kavik’s expression sobered and Eve said gently, “Khiva told me you were good friends with his brother.”

Kavik inclined his head. “Pevka was a good, honorable male,” he said, before his gaze slid to Khiva, “as is his brother.”

Pevka.

Khiva had never told her his brother’s name before and that knowledge, for some reason, made her stomach sour.

“Pevka,” she whispered. She felt Khiva’s hand flex on her back again, but she didn’t look up to meet his eyes. Instead, she said to Kavik, “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.”

Kavik inclined his head again, his eyes never leaving her.

Khiva cut into their conversation by saying, “Was the work hard today?”

Kavik’s gaze slid to her male. “It always is,” he said, his tone pointed.

Eve knew there was some hidden meaning, some reference to a previous conversation Khiva hadn’t shared with her, because the sudden tension between them was evident.

Kavik blew out a sharp breath before saying, “I will take my leave. My wounds need cleaning.”

Eve frowned, her eyes going to the cuts along his exposed arms, similar cuts that Khiva often carried home with him, though they were always gone by the morning.

“Of course,” Eve said. Kavik inclined his head, his eyes lingering on Khiva, before he turned. “Kavik,” she called.

The Keriv’i male turned to her with a question in his gaze.

“I’m making a big dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “Will you join us?”

Kavik’s hesitation was obvious as he looked at Khiva, who gave nothing away. He seemed to debate something in his own head.

Then he said slowly, “Yes, female. It will be an honor to join you.”

Eve beamed. “Great. Khiva will show you the way tomorrow.”

Kavik inclined his head again and then he turned and walked away, towards the market, where he must live.

Eve glanced up at Khiva, who returned her look. In a low tone, he murmured, “You underestimate how much food two Keriv’i males can eat.”

“I’ll consider it practice then,” she said. “Because regardless of if this baby is a boy or a girl, he or she will still be a hungry Keriv’i.”

Khiva’s eyes glowed with something. With affection, with amusement, with something.

“Pax, leeldra,” he purred, turning them and steering them in the direction of their home. “You are right.”

It didn’t take them long to reach their dwelling and again, Eve thought they should consider putting in a lift up to the landing, especially when the baby came. She couldn’t imagine climbing up and down with a toddler, though she knew most females had slings made for that purpose.

When they stepped foot inside, Eve immediately went to go use the washroom since her bladder felt like it was about to burst. Then she splashed her face with cool water, soothing away the stickiness from the humidity.

When she got back out to the main section of the house, she saw that Khiva wasn’t there, nor was he in their bedroom. She glanced out the window and saw him sitting on the landing, his legs hanging over the edge, his arms crossed at the rails. He was looking out over the forest, where she could see tendrils of orange light peeking through the tree canopies.

Eve watched him, though she couldn’t see his expression from where she stood. Her heart gave a soft throb.

These past few days, he’d seemed like his old self again. But Eve knew that he hid his grief well.

Eve gave him some time alone to his own thoughts to get started on dinner, though Khiva would wait until tomorrow to eat. Once the roots were boiling and she’d marinated the raw meat in their cold box, she turned her gaze back out to the window.

In the sitting room, her eyes went the shelf of books and the few collectibles of her father’s she’d brought to Dumera. She crossed over to it before shuffling aside the contents, reaching towards the back of the shelf where she’d hidden Khiva’s gift.

The book’s cover felt smooth under her fingertips. She’d meant to give it to him when she’d told him she was pregnant. And then he’d left for the southern tip shortly after. And since then…well, no time had seemed right.

No time like the present, she thought, hoping that it would please him.

Eve hugged the book to her chest before joining her male outside on the landing. The humidity hit her like a wall when she stepped outside, but she didn’t mind it.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek as she sat next to him and his eyes seemed golden as they regarded her in the fading sunlight of the day.

Those golden eyes slid down to the book she pushed towards him. “What is this?” he asked quietly, accepting it, running his fingers over the brown cover.

“I’ve been making it for you,” she said, suddenly shy.

Khiva blinked before he cracked open the spine, his brow furrowing when he saw the parchment-like pages, all neatly bound and waxed.

Eve watched his eyes widen in realization as they ran over the writing.

“This…” he said, his voice quiet. “This is in Keriv’i.”

“Yes,” Eve said, her heart pounding in her throat, worried he might not like it. “It took me a while to figure that out when I came across the text at the archives. This isn’t the original, but I made a copy of the text and bound it for you.”

“I have not seen,” he said softly, running his fingers over the pages, “my written language since Kerivu.”

Eve bit her lip, touching his forearm. “Do you like it?”

“Leeldra,” he murmured, his eyes shifting to her before flickering back to the book. Then his gaze flickered back. “Leeldra, this is…”

He trailed off, his voice gruff. Then she gasped in surprise when he leaned forward and captured her lips in a fierce, long kiss that left her breathless.

Against her lips, he whispered, “Thank you, leeldra. Thank you.”

“I take it you like it then,” she whispered back, grinning softly when he pulled away, carefully turning the pages. “I don’t even know what it is, but it was the only Keriv’i I’ve come across so far. The only one in our database.”

Khiva smiled, turning more pages, his eyes flicking across the pages at a quick rate.

Then he stilled, his fingers tracing a few symbols near the top of one page. He flipped forward a few pages, then flipped back.

“What is it?” Eve asked, straightening.

His fingers lingered over the symbols and eventually, he said, “It is a ledger. A ledger of exports from Kerivu.”

Eve’s shoulders sagged slightly, frowning. “Oh. I had hoped it would be a little more exciting than that. Maybe a story.”

Khiva shook his head, his words distracted, “We did not record our stories and legends in writing.”

He flipped forward in the book, always careful of the pages, and then he blew out a surprised breath.

She sensed his urgency was about something else.

“What?” Eve asked, her eyes dropping to the book. “Do you recognize something?”

“It seems the universe is telling me something,” Khiva said, his tone light.

He smiled when he looked over at her and he took her fingers, touching them to the same symbol she’d seen, except on a different page.

“What does this mean?” Eve asked, the ink pressing against her fingertips.

“This is my family’s name,” he said and Eve jerked her head up to look at him.

“What?”

“This,” Khiva said, moving her fingers to the symbol that came right after it, “signifies my mother’s father.”

“What does this mean? Why is his name in an old ledger?”

“Because whenever firestones were exported from Kerivu, their value was dependent on their maker,” Khiva told her. He moved her fingers over another symbol, right below the name of his grandfather. Softly, he said, “This is the word for firestones.”

Eve studied the symbol beneath her fingertips.

“This ledger says that during this moon cycle, 100 firestones were exported from Kerivu, created by my mother’s sire. During this moon cycle, with this date…he would have been my age. My mother would have just been born, four days prior to this.”

Eve bit her lip, her eyes moving from the ledger to her male. Her hand lifted from the text and she turned his cheek so he was looking at her.

She leaned forward to kiss him when she couldn’t find the words, pouring everything she felt into that kiss.

“This,” he whispered against her, his voice guttural with sadness, with grief, with joy. “This gift is priceless, leeldra. Just like you. Just like the child you have honored me with. Thank you.”

He kissed her again.

“Thank you,” he said.

Khiva laid in their bed, his pupils dilated in the darkness, as he softly stroked down his female’s naked back.

She was beside him, her hand wrapped around her midsection, protecting their child even in her sleep.

Her soft breaths lulled him, tempting him to join her there, but his mind wouldn’t quiet, even after their three rounds of mating that night.

Khiva shifted under the blankets and extracted himself from their bed, careful not to wake her. He dressed in loose pants and then padded out into the sitting room, lighting a small lamp on the shelf.

Their dwelling was quiet. All of Dumera was quiet, enveloped in the soft hush of night, though he knew the sun was only hours away from rising again.

With gentleness, he retrieved the book his leeldra had given him from its place on their shelf and sat down on a cushion, his back to the wall. He cracked open the spine, the smell of wax and parchment greeting him.

The words he read translated in his mind effortlessly, though he had not seen Keriv’i writing in over twelve years.

The ledger spanned a full planet cycle. One year. He’d already read it in its entirety before he’d taken his female to bed, but he read it again right then.

In it, he found mention of his mother’s father, of his mother’s father’s brother, and his mother’s father’s father, who had all made firestones during that particular cycle on Kerivu.

It only served to remind him that his family, his line, had always made firestones. The creation of them was in his blood, quite literally. And it was right then that Khiva realized…with his brother gone, with his mother gone, he was possibly the last surviving member of his family who knew how to make firestones.

Khiva blew out a long breath, looking at the symbol for his family name, a symbol that had been stamped on every exported firestone, a symbol that every Keriv’i knew on sight.

Kavik’s words continued to haunt him, about how the mines would last but his body would eventually give out. What then? With his female pregnant, with the possibility of more children in their future, Khiva had to provide for his family, to watch over them, to protect them.

It was his history, he realized, as he looked over the ledger again. His family’s history, recorded in writing.

It was Keriv’i history, since firestones were at the root of it.

Would he really let that history fade away? Would he let the knowledge disappear?

Khiva closed the ledger, feeling the tension in his neck, though it would be nothing like the soreness from the mines in the morning.

Kerivu was gone, but the Keriv’i were not.

And since Khiva still lived, firestones still lived, the legacy of his family still breathed, a legacy he could pass onto his own children, which they would then pass onto their own.

Could he truly let that go?