Chapter XLIV Time
XLIV Time
My heart plummets, and I step from foot to foot, swallowing roughly. He knows, of course. He can count. We’ve been here for over a month, and Magnar has been inside me almost every night. He would have seen it if I bled.
His face grows hard when I only stare at him, wringing my hands. I don’t know why I have so much trouble accepting it, or even just telling him. When I say nothing, he scoffs and turns away, his jaw working, and I shake my head with a trembling sigh.
“Wait. I… Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”
His shoulders are rigid, and he takes a moment before he faces me again. His eyes are cold, mouth flat, and I shiver as if his very gaze freezes me.
“What is it, then?”
We’re in a corridor leading to the council room.
I grab his hand and pull him up the stairs, toward his study.
I can’t have this conversation out in the halls, and I hope the short walk will give me time to come up with a plausible explanation, but when we reach the black door, I still don’t know what to say.
Inside, Magnar grabs my shoulders as his eyes drill into me.
“Well? What is it? Because I have the impression you’re unhappy about having my child, wife.”
I flinch. It’s the first time the words are out in the open, inescapable, real. Even in the privacy of my mind, I never allowed myself to think about it in clear terms.
I am pregnant with his child.
The thought causes a small burst of giddy happiness, and a whole lot of other, darker things that swirl around and swallow the light.
“I… When I can’t deal with something, I pretend it doesn’t exist,” I admit shamefully, looking at the floor.
“It’s… Just something I do. It’s not deliberate.
When I’m scared, I refuse to look at the thing that scares me and pretend it’s not there.
It’s… You’re right. I’m not happy. Or, not only happy. ”
His heavy sigh ruffles the hair on the top of my head. I force myself to look into his eyes, but as soon as I do, I wish to wipe the sight from my memory.
He’s no longer angry. Magnar’s face is twisted by a sick, haunting anguish, his eyes brimming with pain, teeth bared in obvious suffering. I make to wrap my arms around him, but he takes a step back, raising his hand to stop me.
“What are you afraid of?” His voice is quiet and heavy with soul-crushing weariness.
“I don’t know, because I was too afraid to think about it,” I whisper. “But I will. Please. I will be better. I will… I will be happy. I just need time.”
His lips twist in an ironic smile that lets me know whatever he says now will hurt.
“Time. Ah, yes. My fault. Your husband, the monster, forced you to marry him and got you pregnant not a month later, the beast. And now he wants things from you, things you cannot give—but only him. Because with Khay, you didn’t need time. With Arvi. Do you love me yet, Caliane?”
I stare at him with wide eyes, torment squeezing my chest until I can barely breathe.
I can’t honestly tell him yes, but I don’t want to say no, either.
I care for him, I adore his company, and I truly want to be his.
There’s only that one hurdle, one difficulty I need to fix.
I managed it with Raduna. I know I’ll get past it with Magnar, too, only…
I’m out of time.
“I will,” I promise, voice hot and pleading. “Please. Just give me time. It’s not about you, I swear. It’s just… Something is wrong with me.”
His laughter is hollow and self-deprecating as he turns his face away.
“Nothing’s wrong with you, love,” he says with false tenderness that slices my heart like a knife. “It’s just a lesson I must learn. You can force a woman to marry you, you can breed her with force, but you can’t make her love you. Or am I wrong?”
It’s my turn to grow harsh as anger grips my throat.
“Will you stop?” I growl. “I chose you. I had a chance to get away, and I fought to stay, because I want to be with you. Nothing you did since we came here was through force. I chose it all. And I am sorry that you hurt, I truly am, but a month and a half is little time to recover from having my life ripped away! I chose you! Now give me some damn time.”
Magnar blinks at me, looking mildly surprised, then cracks a sudden smile. My shoulders drop, and I exhale the remnants of my fury in a long, shaky stream, still watching him carefully in case he’ll go off again.
But he doesn’t. He comes closer, cups my cheek, and smiles warmly.
“You swore, my prize. I must have made you very angry. Now say ‘fuck’. Please. For me.”
I bare my teeth at him in the Agnidari way, and he laughs softly, running his thumb over my cheek. I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and do it.
“Fuck.”
“Thank you.”
He pulls me into his embrace, and I hold him with desperate longing.
I was afraid he would banish me into a room far away from his so he doesn’t have to look at me and hurt.
Yet now, when my head is clearer, I think it was such a silly fear.
Magnar wouldn’t do that. When it comes to those he loves, he’s self-sacrificing to a fault.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice tight and hot. “I just… I thought it would be a happy moment. I was disappointed, and yes, hurt. Every day you don’t love me, it just… It hurts.”
“I am sorry, too. I should have told you as soon as I knew. I want to have your baby, husband. This, too, I chose.”
His back trembles briefly under my touch, and he clears his throat, sounding congested like he has a runny nose. I try to pull back to see what’s wrong, but he doesn’t let me.
“No,” he says, voice tight. “Let me keep my honor.”
My heart swells with equal parts pain and affection when I realize he must be crying. Gods, I never saw a man in tears. That this fearsome warrior, this conqueror, the Tyrant, would cry because of me is baffling.
“I think your honor is quite safe,” I whisper. “This was a very hard month, and I admire you greatly for all the work you’ve done. I wish I could do more so you can rest. I worry about you.”
He laughs, and it’s nasal and a bit wet. Oh, gods.
“It’s you who should rest. You’ve done enough. The council will eat from your hand now. I’m glad. You’ll rule them much better than I ever could.”
I sigh, sinking into his embrace, the heat of his body, his scent, all of it feeling like safety, like home. Magnar sniffs and straightens. He clears his throat, no trace of the vulnerability left on his face. He watches me with a thoughtful expression, as if searching for something.
There’s a loud knock on the door.
“Enter.”
I press my hand to my chest when I see who it is—the messenger we sent to the Table of Kings. He looks weary but pleased as he hands Magnar a thick, ornate scroll.
“Go eat and rest,” Magnar commands him, already turning to the desk. “You did well. Thank you.”
He sits down, and I stand behind him, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet. The wax seal breaks with a crunch, and Magnar unrolls the scroll with impatient movements. We scan the text together, and I cry out in joy seconds before him.
“It worked! You have a seat!”
“At my earliest convenience,” he quotes with a wide grin. “Oh, are they eager to get their hands on my mines! This is perfect. Perfect! We’ll ride out tomorrow. No, the day after. We have to get ready. Advise me: how many men do I take to be safe without being overly threatening?”
He turns to look at me, and I shake my head. “My father traveled with twenty, but I don’t know if that’s enough. Forty seems like too many—they could be offended.”
“Thirty, then. You’re coming with, of course. Or—would you rather stay? In your condition…”
I shake my head before he finishes. “No, I feel well enough. I’ll be fine.
Besides, there are some documents of my father’s I want to get when we stop in Farneer.
He had journals, diaries, wrote his own reports.
He used a code, and I know how to read it.
I’ll teach you, but before then, you’ll need me there. ”
“Of course I need you,” he says with a scoff. “I always need you. But if you’d rather not endure the hardships of travel when you’re pregnant, I will understand.”
“I’m coming.”
“Good.”
The next day passes in a flurry of activity. I meet quickly with Idrina and appoint new ministers to replace Ronan and the three currently locked in the dungeons. Magnar leaves his second in command in charge. His name is Hardar, and he has Magnar’s implicit trust.
“He’s an army man, not a politician,” Magnar admits when we leave our meeting with general Hardar and the council, “but he’ll do just fine for now. He’ll hold the fort, maybe deal with more of my paperwork so I can finally have my honeymoon when we get back.”
He stops, grabbing my hand, and backs me into a wall. The corridor is empty, and my heart hammers with excitement, even though I’m tired from the endless meetings and organizing things for the journey.
“Do you know what I heard?” he says, leaning closer until his lips are barely an inch away from mine. “Apparently pregnant women get very horny after the first three months. That should coincide with our return. What do you say, pet? Will you be very horny for your husband?”
I laugh with embarrassment, my belly heating. “I think I’m very… eager for my husband now.”
“Mmm. Say ‘horny’.”
I sigh. “Yes, Magnar. I am very horny for you.”
He grins with satisfaction and kisses me deeply, and I kiss him back, throwing my arms around his neck. His hand settles low on my belly, where there’s still no sign of my pregnancy. It doesn’t cool his ardor.
“Fuck. My child in your womb. I knew you’d be easy to breed, love. Such a wanton girl with an eager cunt that kept begging for my cum. Of course, it had to take at once. Maybe it happened the first time I fucked you. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit.”
“Magnar!” I hiss, my cheeks flaming as I try to look around him to make sure we’re still alone.
“Kiss me some more.”
I do, getting lost in his scent and taste, his warm fingers shaping my back and waist until he gets tired from bowing low to reach me and takes my butt in both hands, lifting me high.
I straddle him with a gasp, my skirts hiked up, flashing my stockings.
He presses me into the wall until my back leans comfortably against it, and takes my mouth in deep, growling kisses, as if filling up on them in advance of the journey.
Someone clears his throat behind Magnar. I try to pull away, embarrassed to be found like this, but he steals one more kiss before turning.
It’s only our knights. Khay grins and sends me a kiss, and I relax. I don’t mind them seeing me disheveled and aroused.
“We’re done with everything, and we arranged for supper to be delivered into the queen’s chamber,” Raduna rumbles with a smile. “You handled your duties, too. Come and rest with us until it’s time to ride in the morning.”
He winks at me, and I remember with a hot, fluttery feeling that I promised him a reward. I still haven’t given Arvi what I promised him, either. Just like Magnar tried to fill up on kisses, I think my knights want to take me before we leave. I shiver, and my husband chuckles.
“Yes, pet? Eager to go to bed?”
I drop my gaze and nod, face hot from embarrassment and need. He laughs, then looks at the knights.
“We must be careful, though. Caliane is pregnant.”
Their words of congratulations are warm and joyful, but no one sounds surprised. Khay grins, coming closer to press his body to my back as I still straddle Magnar. I am now stuck between them, and Magnar’s words from before—me and Khay—make my mind blaze.
“Does it mean we get to fuck her pussy yet? She’s already pregnant by you, right?”
But Magnar shakes his head. “Give it a few more months. I need to be certain.”
“Don’t I have a say?” I ask, and Magnar kisses my pout away.
“You do, after I make sure I have a blood heir. It was my father’s wish, pet. I promised him. After that, your knights can breed you, I don’t mind. All your children will be my legitimate heirs, no matter if Khay, Arvi, or Raduna are their fathers. Or me again.”
Warm shivers engulf my back and arms as I look into his eyes.
We are a family, aren’t we? Me, them, and any children we have.
I understand at last that Magnar’s moods are not born of jealousy and greed.
He’s happy sharing his wife, his heritage, his crown—with those who sacrificed everything to be loyal to him.
He could have been a petty king. He could demand everything and give nothing in return, as my father did. But Magnar isn’t like that.
His jealousy was maybe not jealousy at all, merely longing and rejection. I give him a kiss, things shifting inside me. Not enough—I can’t say the words he wants to hear yet—but I’m moving in the right direction.
“Let’s go to bed.”