Chapter 16
Eight cycles later, Gweneth’s suite
Sheera shimmered into Gweneth’s suite, startling a squeak from Gweneth. She pressed her palm against her pounding heart and glared at the Incorporeal woman.
“New rule,” she said with a distinct edge to her tone.
“You and Leeam are welcome to visit me at any time, but you must shimmer your arrival outside my door and knock for admittance. This is my private space. You must do the same for all of us. Knock for admittance, and if we come to visit you in your suite, we will do the same. Clear?”
Some of Sheera’s good humor faded and she started to vanish.
Gweneth grabbed her arm. “Stay. I am not feeling well, and I’m grumpy.”
Sheera solidified again. “I’m sorry. You’re right of course. Leeam and I will remember our manners in the future. What is wrong with you? Can I help?”
“Keep me company until Mogens arrives. I commed him, and he said he’d drop by after he checks on Camryn.”
Sheera gave a wide smile. “The babies are beautiful.”
“I know. They are healthy. I hope Camryn recovers soon. Ry is worried and snapping at everyone.” She made a moue with her lips. “It must be catchy.” Her stomach roiled without warning and she made a run for the sanitizer room.
The small amount of food she’d managed to eat after rising came back up. Her stomach muscles heaved, her throat burned as she lost her breakfast. Gweneth wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened with a sigh. Even that hurt.
“Mogens is here,” Sheera sang out.
“Let him inside,” Gweneth croaked. “I won’t be a min.”
Gweneth gripped the hard edge of the sanitizer unit and stared into the looking glass. The paleness of her features brought to mind a healthy Incorporeal. Pale with an underlying pinkness.
Her stomach did a shimmery dance again, and she froze, wondering if she should dare move.
“Gweneth?” Mogens’ footsteps approached. “Sheera said you aren’t well.”
“Is Sheera still here?”
“No, she shimmered out to meet Leeam in the gardens once I arrived.” He shook his head, his pale gray features alive with good cheer. “They are so young and full of enthusiasm. I am glad you were able to save them.”
“Me too,” Gweneth croaked, the writhing of her stomach too much for her. She vomited again.
“Ah,” said Mogens. “I begin to suspect the nature of your illness.”
“Can you fix me? This is the third morn I’ve been sick. It’s weird because I only get sick in the morn. By eve, I’m hungry and able to eat.”
“’Tis as I expected, child. Wash your face and rinse out your mouth. I’ll be in your relaxation room when you’re ready, and we will talk.”
Gweneth sucked in a deep breath and followed Mogens’s instructions. “Is it something serious?”
“I suspect you are pregnant.”
The verbal punch had her clutching her chest, struggling to breathe. He…he… Pregnant? She couldn’t be. “I used your birth control tonics. You know that.”
“Yes, but you and Ellard created sexual energy to keep Leeam and Sheera alive.”
Gweneth swallowed, Ellard’s recent behavior another hard slap to her equilibrium. “Um, yes? But that wasn’t long ago. Should I be having this sickness already?”
“Let me analyze a blood sample to confirm, but I’m fairly certain.
The morning sickness is another feline shifter peculiarity, since it occurs almost straightaway.
I believe the sickness doesn’t occur until at least week six in humans.
That is what Camryn’s sister-in-law told me during our Earth visit.
” Mogens opened his satchel and competently took the sample.
He placed the vial containing her blood inside a protective vessel and closed his satchel.
“I will have confirmation in two cycle portions.”
Gweneth nodded and sank onto her favorite gel-chair, no longer able to support her weight on her shaky legs.
“It will be all right, child.” Mogens patted her shoulder.
“Ellard has distanced himself. I-I don’t know how he’ll react to the news.”
“Let me get confirmation, and we can go from there.” Mogens squeezed her shoulder, a ribbon of black bleeding into the gray of his countenance. “You have family, friends. No matter what happens, Gweneth, you will have our support.”
She nodded dumbly, her mind full of shock, disbelief, and if she was honest, a trace of excitement because she didn’t doubt Mogens’s diagnosis. He seldom made mistakes.
A baby.
She watched Mogens depart, her vision focused on the solid door as he closed it with a soft click.
A baby.
Her hand went to her flat belly, and she rubbed lightly. “I wonder how your father will react.”
Two cycles later.
Ellard arrived in the communal dining room to find his brother and Ry.
“How is Camryn?” he asked.
Ry yawned and rubbed his blood-shot eyes. “Mogens says she’s improving, but she sleeps most of the time. She lost so much blood.”
“The kittens?” Shiloh asked.
Ry smiled briefly. “My son and daughter are thriving.”
Lynx arrived with a pregnant Jannike. Nanu and Kaya strode in a few secs later.
“I’m starving.” Kaya sat at the table and helped herself to a wedge of Polis melon. Cubes of the delicate pink flesh disappeared into her mouth with rapid efficiency.
Mogens arrived, his black satchel clasped in his left hand.
Everyone grabbed their normal seats and started to break their fasts.
Gweneth didn’t come, and the lump of unease sitting in the pit of Ellard’s stomach grew.
He hadn’t seen Gweneth for cycles. She didn’t join them for meals, and he hadn’t seen her around the castle.
Not that he’d been around much. He’d spent three cycles out at Jarlath and Keira’s farm, and the rest of the time, he’d kept busy putting his soldiers through rigorous training and tests.
Still, he would have expected to catch glimpses of her throughout his cycle.
His conscience urged him to talk to her again, to explain why it would be best for her to move on with her life without him. Tension bled through his limbs, bringing his feline to the surface. His hand tightened around his vessel of tay, claws protruding from beneath his fingernails.
This cycle, he decided.
Putting this meeting off was cruel to both of them.
“Does anyone know where Gweneth is?” he asked.
“She isn’t feeling well,” Mogens said. “She is in her suite.”
Ellard stood.
“Take her this,” Mogens said, handing him a plate bearing two slices of hardtack biscuit.
Ellard started to add quigly spread, a fruity green concoction, and the traditional accompaniment, but Mogens shook his head.
“No, just the hardtack. Tell her to nibble on it,” Mogens instructed and calmly returned to his meal.
Ellard frowned at Mogens, frowned at the squares of crisp hardtack, and shrugged. Mogens was the medic. He supposedly knew his art.
At Gweneth’s suite door, he paused, hampered by the plate in his one hand. In the end, he kicked the door. Soft voices came from within and an instant later, Leeam opened the door, a vision in green and red.
He beamed, his pale face glinting with undertones of pink. “Ellard. Just in time. Sheera and I have a com-meeting with Uncle Niran.”
Ellard stepped into Gweneth’s suite, his gaze going straight to Gweneth. She sat curled up on her favorite gel-chair, her features wan yet beautiful.
His breath caught as he stared at her.
“Hello, Ellard. Did you enjoy your stay with Jarlath and Keira?”
“Yes.” He thrust the plate at her. “Mogens told me to bring you these. He said you should nibble on them.”
“Thanks. Why are you here? I thought you’d said everything when you rejected me on the journey from Narenda.”
Ellard flinched at the harsh words even though he deserved them. He sighed and decided to lead with the truth. He owed her that at least. “I love you, Gweneth. From the moment I saw you I wanted you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“Please, let me finish.”
She sniffed and bit off the end of a hardtack.
Unable to stand in one place, Ellard started to pace. “You know my history. Because of me, the House of Cawdor got a foothold here on Viros. No woman had ever paid such close attention to me before, and I fell for it. I’m not pretty like Shiloh, and now I have one arm.”
“You can get another.”
“No, I can’t. Not only was it expensive, but the way they installed it meant it was a one-time proposition.
They warned me of this, and I accepted the risks.
Most beings who have a Stores go through their lives without mishap.
I had bad luck.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let self-pity take over.
Jarlath had lectured him, told him he was unique, and he felt proud to call him a friend.
He’d also threatened to kick his butt if he fell into despondency again.
Ellard accepted he was a work-in-progress in the self-pity stakes.
While he struggled, Gweneth didn’t need the weight of his problems on her shoulders.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She leapt out of her gel-chair so fast the impression of her butt remained for secs after she’d disappeared into her sanitizer room.
With his acute feline hearing, Ellard caught the loud noises she made as she vomited.
His footsteps took him to the doorway.
“Go away.”
“No, you’re not well. Let me call Mogens.”
“He can’t help me.” Gweneth straightened. “Wait for me out there. I have something to tell you.”
Indecisive, Ellard hovered.
“Wait for me.” Gweneth slammed the door in his face.
Unable to sit because of his worry, Ellard paced back and forward in front of a window. Not even the view of the square and the forest beyond, one of his favorite places, snagged his attention. Instead, he worried about Gweneth. Mogens knew of her symptoms, yet he hadn’t seemed overly concerned.
The click of the door drew his attention, and he spun around to face her.
“Have a seat.”
Ellard studied her impassive features. “I prefer to stand.”
“So it’s easier for you to get a running start?”
He gaped at her. “What?”
“The reason I keep throwing up each morn is because I’m pregnant.”