She tries to swallow and winces.
"What day is it?"
My eyes burn as I stroke her cheek.
“It took me two turns of the sun to find you.”
"Fuck. Wren and Thea's birthday." Then she lets out a pained noise. "Fuck.Fuck!"
Panic shoots through my body.
"What is it?" I demand. “Does your wound still bother you?”
Her hand goes to her midsection, and she barely sits up before doubling over my arm. I stroke her back, brushing her hair to the side.
“No. I’m going to—“ She cuts off with another noise. "Bleed."
I draw her closer as she starts to shake in my arms.
"Where? What can I do?"
She lets out a frustrated noise. "Do you know nothing of women?"
I blink.
"My arm and ribs are fine. These are my monthly courses. They are irregular... but I bleed. It is starting." She grits out.
My brow relaxes. I know of such things. Enduares tend to bleed once or twice a year, and it is painful like this. But it also comes with increased attunement to their powers.
I peer at her as she curls up into a ball. Melisa doesn’t look like any divine gift shines down on her.
"How can I help?" I ask, starting to feel something much worse than worry: helplessness.
She shakes her head. "Need to... relieve myself."
I nod, draw her up, careful not to press against her midsection, and leap toward the ladder that leads out of the pit.
She protests, but I shake my head as we climb out. I pull her towards a thicket of trees as fast as I can to keep her out of sight. She needs to remain in a place where no one can see her.
"I'll get caught. I'm supposed to stay here for the next week at least," she hisses into my ear.
"Fuck that," I retort, using the word she loves so much. "Tell me about Wren and Thea."
Her mouth parts. Then, her mask slides into place. "I don't know what you mean."
I take a deep breath. "Your daughters. I met them."
A fury I've seldom seen brushes across her features, and she pushes against me, with puffs of white clouds coming between us.
"What are you getting at?" she demands.
"Melisa, I am your mate. Your daughters are?—”
“Do you mean my sisters?” she asks, voice hard.
“They called you mother,” I say, confused.
Her eyes go wide, frantic. “They did?”