Free Asunder (Incarnate) by Jodi Meadows

the crowd of people chatting, speculating on who’d come back.
    “Look,” someone muttered, “the nosoul is here.”
    Shock spiraled though me, shame not far behind. I wasn’t a nosoul. I wasn’t .
    Few people used the word “nosoul” anymore, so what had changed? Perhaps it was this birth: Lidea had gotten pregnant after Templedark, and everyone was nervous.
    Still, I kept my face down as I walked, as though I could hide from the words.
    “She’ll curse Lidea,” and “She’s already cursed everyone. Her and Menehem. They planned Templedark,” and “Dossam with her. He’s no better.”
    Sam’s hand tightened painfully around mine, but neither of us acknowledged the speakers. As much as I wanted to defend myself, this wasn’t the time. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. The last thing Lidea needed was for my presence to start a fight.
    “Often,” Sam said, as though we hadn’t heard a bunch of people talking about me, “we can predict who’ll be born, since there aren’t a lot of possibilities. Maybe two or three. Their best friends usually attend the birthing to welcome them back.”
    We found a spot by the back wall, and I said, “A lot of people lost their friends.”
    Sam kept his voice soft as he turned his attention to the bed and birthing assistants gathered around. “Yeah.”
    Wend, Lidea’s partner, stood beside her, petting her hair and whispering encouragement. Nearby, someone said she was pushing now, so it wouldn’t be much longer.
    I stood on my toes, but from our corner, I couldn’t see more than Wend’s head. There were too many people in front of us, half of them standing. I tugged Sam’s sleeve. “I can’t see.”
    Sam eyed the rows of people, and my nice view of their shoulders. “Go to the front.” He nudged me. “I’ll wait here.”
    I hesitated—some of these people hated me—but I refused to let them stop me from seeing my friend. I squeezed Sam’s hand, then maneuvered through the crowd before I missed anything else. Right in time to see Micah, one of the birthing assistants, adjust the sheet over Lidea’s legs and—Ew. It was really going to come out of her.
    Sarit sidled up next to me. “Thought you could use some company.” Protection, she meant, but I wasn’t going to complain.
    “Wow.” I tried not to gape as Lidea groaned at another contraction. “That can’t feel good.”
    Someone glared at me, and Sarit giggled.
    Lidea grunted and—around a white-smocked birth assistant—I saw her face, lined with concentration. Her eyes were closed as if there was nothing else in the world. Just her and the baby.
    True, most people weren’t watching , but she made a lot of weird noises I’d have been embarrassed about. No one seemed to care, though.
    It wasn’t long before a last push brought the baby and its cry. Everyone cheered and called out, “Welcome back!” while Micah gave the baby to Lidea, who was flushed and sweaty, but grinned happily. Wend unbundled a small blanket and laid it across both of them.
    “He’s healthy!” Micah’s shout made everyone cheer again. She put a dark green cap, embroidered with tiny ospreys and elk, on his head.
    Sarit leaned toward me and muttered, “It’s a running joke that there are only five or six newborn caps in existence. Everyone just passes them back and forth.”
    I giggled. “It does look suspiciously familiar.”
    After a few minutes, the cheering quieted and a pair of Soul Tellers stepped forward. Sarit and I ducked away, back to Sam and Stef.
    “That was amazing ,” I whispered, pressing my spine against Sam’s chest, relaxing when his arms circled my waist. “And kind of gross. It must have hurt.”
    “I’m sure she’d be happy to share, if you asked her.”
    I couldn’t decide whether he was making a joke or not. Why would anyone want to talk about childbirth?
    Maybe I’d see if the library had a book on it, instead.
    Aside from Lidea’s cooing to the baby until he calmed, the room grew