Serious times. The brine was in my veins as the saying goes, but I smiled at the bright light as we stepped out on the beach. To both sides were my guards. Their muscles taut and hands within easy reach of their weapons. I knew their thought was on protecting me and those close by. Yet, I still saw the raised eyebrows and widening of the eyes as we passed. They were professional, and I allowed the indulgence. Such a sight never happened before. Volardi, Ryba, and Human together in one group.

Peter hurried to my side, and I saw the normally stoic faces of my men soften. I nodded back to reassure them of the ‘situation’. I wasn’t the only one worried about our future. Beyond the difficulty with the Ryba, for too long there was no heir or fallback ruler. Volardi society normally has redundancies to ensure a continuation. Unfortunately, my life was a perfect storm of difficulty. I will not bemoan my fate, but I have to acknowledge it. The Gloom killed most of our Femeni. My former lover died before he could give me a child. Two deaths – if not more – in one passing. The one I thought I would spend the rest of my life with was gone, as were any future children.

My Dara or Beta as Peter would say, left by his own hand. While such a thought was blasphemous in the olden times, my Oma could function as an interim leader. Unfortunately, the sickness that took the other Omegas, weakened him. Mere survival was taxing enough.

Perhaps it was unwise in removing his personal force field, but I am his son.

He doesn’t deserve to…

I sighed deeply. It was almost impossible to think ‘die’ but maybe there was a better way to look at it. He could live as a Volardi with his head held up high instead of the half-life my love forced on him. I believed his time to be short, and yet, I wondered if that too was an error. I suspected I knew the true reason for the Ryba visit but I dare not hope.

Why not?

I tilted my head to my internal argument. Not that long ago I thought I would never have another mate or a child.

I looked at the short Human as he held our baby in his arms. The pink splotches on his tiny arms were gone. Soon he would be strong, tanned and even swim in the ocean. Perhaps find the same shells and infuriate me as I did with my fathers.

My smile grew. Why not? It would be tradition.