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Violet can’t remember the last time she slept more than a three-hour stretch. The exhaustion she feels in her bones is far from a new feeling—she’d once been very accustomed to being deprived of sleep by her weak joints, sore muscles, and vision-plagued restless nights during the war.
She wonders now if maybe she’d gone soft during those six years of quiet after the war, before Lily came roaring into their world like a tiny typhoon. Violet occasionally had a lie in during those quiet years—she can remember a few times when she’d woken up with Xaden in their bedroom in Aretia, lazily made her way into his arms and kissing him deeply before falling back asleep for another hour or two.
Mornings don’t mean much now that Violet is always awake every few hours with one of the kids. But now, as she brushes her fingers over Liam’s soft, dark hair, she’s aware that it’s late. That morning is still a few hours away.
She marvels at how small Liam is, how perfect. He lets out a little sigh in his sleep, his tiny hand curling into a fist against her chest. She can’t help but notice how—even at rest—he is so different from his big sister. His expression is calm and angelic, while Lily, even in sleep, always looks a bit like she’s ready to start a fight.
Violet maneuvers to stand up from the rocker in the corner of the nursery, relishing in the relief that comes from moving her stiff arms before she lays the baby gently in his crib. She watches him for a moment as his breathing evens out.
She thinks suddenly, as she sometimes does, of her son’s namesake.
With all the loss during the war, with all names they’d gasped out through desperate sobs, there was no shortage of names to choose from when the time came. No shortage of options to lace joy with memory, to tether the buoyancy of hope to the legacy of the fallen.
Lily and Liam. Liam and Lily. In their bright laughter and stubborn joy, there’s an echo of voices once lost, carried forward.
She rolls her neck in a circle as she slips out of the nursery, hoping Xaden had succeeded in getting Lily to sleep. Ever since Lily had turned four, they’d had some success in getting her to sleep in her own room. Never mind that many nights, Violet finds Xaden curled up next to Lily, fast asleep as well — his long limbs bent in unnatural angles.
Tonight, Xaden must have made it out of Lily’s room at a reasonable hour, though. Violet notices a dim light flickering against the walls of their bedroom as she makes her way inside. She smells the faint scent of lavender.
She follows the scent and the light to their bathing chambers. The tub is full, bubbles cresting over the edge, and there are candles casting the faintest of warm golden hues over everything. Xaden stands nearby, arms crossed as he watches her reaction.
She arches a brow. “What’s this?”
His lips curl at the corner, but his eyes are serious. “Something to remind you that I’ll never stop showing up for you.”
Her throat tightens. “Xaden—”
“When I picked up Lily today, Mira told me she did something that reminded her of you as a kid,” he says, stepping closer. His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much I love that little girl. About how badly I want her to have someone who loves her unconditionally when we’re gone.” He exhales, his hands finding her waist, pulling her close. “And I thought about you. About the little girl you used to be, the one who deserved that kind of love, too. And I just—” He shakes his head ever so slightly. “I want to be that for you, Violet. Every damn day.”
Her breath stutters, her hands gripping the front of his shirt. “You already are.”
She doesn’t know how to say thank you. His thumb brushes her cheek, catching a tear she hadn’t realized was falling. Then he smirks, because— well, he’s still her Xaden, after all. “Good. Now get in before the water gets cold. Or I’m getting in with you.”
She laughs, watery and soft, and starts to undress. She lets him help her into the bath, sinking into the fragrant warmth he’d made just for her.
Violet feels a trace of guilt—thinking about how she hasn’t welcomed Xaden’s touch with enthusiasm in the same way she used to these past few months, wanting to be alone when she can. Wanting her body to herself in the rare moments when she’s given the choice.
But right now, Violet thinks she’d welcome his fingers in her hair, his lips on the base of her neck. She turns her face to him, a hesitant smile on her lips. He brings a hand to cup the side of her face, brushing a thumb against her cheek.
“Getting in with me isn’t a threat,” she says as he sits at the edge of the tub next to her. “Far from it.”
“What do you want from me, love?” He asks gently. “I can disappear for a while. I can bring you a book,” he pauses before adding, “I can stay.”
Violet takes a deep breath in and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she extends an arm to intertwine her fingers with his.
“Stay,” she says, smiling up at him softly. “Be my backrest.”
He brings her hand up to his lips, brushing them against her knuckles. “Okay,” he says gently. He stands and strips off his shirt.
Violet takes another deep breath as she watches him undress. She still finds him so beautiful after all these years together, so perfectly made. His skin is marred with more scars than even the first time she saw him naked like this in dim golden mage light.
And their scars from the war will never fully fade, but time—time has blurred the hard lines. Softened their edges.
She sits up and he steps into the bath behind her, the water rising gently with his weight. She closes her eyes when his arms come around her, when his chest presses warm against her back.
It’s times like this that she wonders why they’re still here—why they get to share this warmth, this quiet—while others exist only in memories and children’s names.
But she doesn’t let herself linger there. She reminds herself that this is one of the unremarkable moments they'd fought so hard for.
And she thinks she’d better enjoy it.
Violet leans into Xaden, letting her tired muscles sink against the firm planes of his chest. He presses a kiss to her temple.
“This is nice,” she says with a sigh.
Xaden hums in agreement, and the moment folds around them—sweet, fleeting, and exactly what they hadn’t known to wish for.
***