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It was the hand on her rounded belly.
She stared toward him, hair still flowing.
Behind her, four small figures emerged.
Rowan fell to his knees.
The tallest: a girl with golden hair and
pine-green eyes, solemn-faced and as proud as
her mother. The boy beside her, nearly her
height, smiled at him, warm and bright, his
Ashryver eyes near-glowing beneath his cap
of silver hair. The boy next to him, silver-
haired and green-eyed, might as well have
been Rowan’s twin. And the smallest girl,
clinging to her mother’s legs ... A fine-boned,
silver-haired child, little more than a babe, her
blue eyes harking back to a lineage he did not
know.
Children. His children. Their children.
With another mere weeks from being born.
His family.
The family he might have, the future he