Chapter 197 Chapter 197

Chapter 197 Chapter 197
Jolene
The heavy oak door to our apartment swings open with a soft, familiar creak, and the scent of crushed pine needles, beeswax, and warm vanilla instantly washes over me.
I am home. At long last, this place feels like home.
I smile to myself. I never thought I’d reach this point - a time when a palace felt more like home to me than the dingy little flat in Middletown.
And sitting on the mantelpiece is something I had forgotten about. My grandma’s little ceramic cat. The one I grabbed on my way out of the apartment just before I went to Lexington’s pack house.
That feels like an eternity ago now. A different time, and a different me. So much has happened. It feels as if I have lived an entire life since then.
I sit back in the plush, velvet-cushioned wheelchair the Lunites insisted on using, holding Hope tightly against my chest. Three days of solid rest in the convalescent wing did wonders for my battered body, but stepping across the threshold back into our rooms feels like taking my first real breath in months.
Merrick pushes my chair through the entryway, his hands steady and warm against the leather handles. Behind us, Nathaniel and Calla carry two oversized woven hampers overflowing with soft wool blankets, herbal salves, and tiny linen cloths.
As soon as we’re inside, I get up, still cradling Hope close to me. She’s such a good baby - she nurses like a champ and sleeps like a pro, and when she’s awake, she’s really awake.
I love her to death. I never knew it was possible to love anyone this much. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. 
Merrick walks around the wheelchair and holds his arms out. “Can I get a cuddle?”
“From me or the baby?”
He laughs. “I’ll take one from both of you.”
Grinning from ear to ear, I hand our daughter over to him, “I am desperate for a shower,” I say.
“I bet,” my mate responds. “Go. I’ve got her.”
Leaving her, even just for a moment, feels like the worst kind of betrayal, but I drag myself away from her and go to our bedroom.
I pause at the entrance, my jaw dropping slightly as my eyes sweep over the room. The place has been completely transformed.
A heavy carved ironwood crib, its sides detailed with running wolves and delicate sun flames, stands right beside our bed. Flanking the hearth is a towering oak cabinet stacked high with dozens of tiny onesies, soft fleece blankets, and stacks of diapers. 
Sitting on the side table is a collection of carved wooden rattles, silver hairbrushes, and plush fur toys shaped like little bear cubs.
"What on earth...?" I gasp, looking up over my shoulder at Merrick who followed me.
My mate looks just as stunned as I am. He rubs the back of his neck, his dark green eyes blinking in utter confusion at the sheer volume of nursery supplies taking over our bedroom.
"I realise you never prepared for the baby, King," Calla smirks, stepping past us and dumping her hamper near the chest of drawers. "So I sent a little bird out to ask for help."
In a daze I walk over to the new dresser and pull open one of the drawers. All the clothes are handmade - knitted or sewed with great care. It’s clear that a lot of love went into the endeavour.
“Thank you, Calla,” I say, too embarrassed to admit that it never even crossed my mind that I had to get a crib and diapers.
Nathaniel sets his hamper down by the hearth with a rare, quiet chuckle. "I believe the blacksmiths forged three separate iron rattles before Calla convinced them a baby couldn't lift ten pounds of iron."
I let out a soft, breathless laugh, my eyes stinging with sudden, warm tears as I look at Hope, who is sleeping soundly through the noise, tucked in safe against her daddy’s chest, her tiny thumb tucked in her mouth. "They made all of this for her?"
"They did," Merrick says softly, his deep voice thick with an emotion he doesn't try to hide. 
He steps over to the magnificent crib and gently introduces Hope to her new bed. She wiggles a little, sighs, and goes right back to sleep.
My mate stands over the crib for a long, quiet moment, his broad thumb trailing lightly over the soft wool blanket before he turns and climbs onto the bed beside me.
My knees are suddenly a little shaky, and my insides ache with a dull, heavy soreness. Merrick notices that I’m a little unsteady, and reaches out to grab me, pulling me tightly against his solid chest. “Do you need help in the shower?” he asks gently.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to leave her alone. Not even for a second.”
Nathaniel and Calla quietly excuse themselves, pulling the heavy oak doors shut to leave us in peace.
Merrick helps me over to the bed, and firmly pushes me down onto the mattress. “Rest for a moment,” he says.
“I’ve done nothing but rest, Merrick,” I argue, but at the same time, I sink back onto the mountain of soft pillows, pulling the duvet over my lap.
He sits next to me and pulls me into his arms once more. 
"No shadow wells," I whisper into the quiet room, staring at my daughter in the crib. "No dark magic. No war councils."
"No war councils," Merrick agrees, his deep voice vibrating straight through my ribs, his hand coming up to cover mine where it rests over my strangely empty stomach. "Just us. Just our home and our daughter."
Hope gives a tiny, squeaky stretch in her sleep, her little hand fluttering into the air before settling back down.
I close my eyes, letting the quiet warmth of the fire, the steady rhythm of Merrick's heartbeat against my cheek, and the golden heat of our daughter's presence fill every corner of my soul.