Forty Five
Time had started to move differently for Zaria. Days blurred together now, paced by feedings and naps and Cillian’s changing moods. Sometimes she blinked and the sun had already shifted across the sky. Other times, the hours stretched endlessly when he refused to sleep unless he was tucked against her chest. It had been over a year since she moved to the Isles, she realized as she walked down the corridor that morning, Cillian perched on her hip. The realization made her pause for the briefest moment. Cillian shifted, making a soft sound beneath his breath, and Zaria adjusted her hold, pressing a kiss to his downy white hair. “I know,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it either.” In her free hand, she carried a small, neatly wrapped box. Mercy’s room wasn’t far. The corridor leading t
- Writer
