Chapter 27 #2
“Women are delicate,” Rodrick continued, confidence returning. “Their bodies maintain a precarious balance. Disturb the heart or the mind, and the womb may become unsafe.”
My heel tapped beneath the desk, hidden but relentless.
“And marital relations?” My throat thickened. These were not the questions of a green boy. I was a king seeking to protect what was mine. Judgment had no place here—and neither did shame.
He shook his head at once. “I would strongly advise against it. If they are already with child, further attempts to impregnate them would only cause stress and upset their balance.”
And tomorrow, I was meant to bed her before the entire kingdom.
I forced my body into stillness, unwilling to betray the frustration coiling inside me. I had wedged myself between stone and plow, and there was no easy release. Rodrick continued on about dietary restrictions, his voice a dull drone in my ears.
It had never crossed my mind. I never dared to imagine we might have a babe. Nor had it occurred to me that one should not take a woman to bed once she was already with child.
Not that it didn’t happen. I had seen enough harlots, bellies swollen, still chasing my soldiers.
But which risk carried the greater cost?
To reverse course after the entire court knew I was dragging an ancient rite into the present, all to display Elohios’ blessing upon Nienna and invite whispers that I feared she would not be accepted, or to endanger my unborn child?
The answer came without hesitation.
I listened to Rodrick, committing every word to memory, clinging to his guidance while refusing to write it down. It felt as though acknowledging her condition aloud, or setting it to ink, might somehow curse us. A foolish notion. I was a practical man.
Still, the quill remained untouched.
Rodrick departed at last, and Greaves dragged a chair forward, straddling it before my desk, one arm hooked over the back. His brows lifted.
“You sent for Edith to count her days.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Your powers of observation remain unmatched.”
He stayed silent, watching me weigh my next move.
Should I confront her? Tell Fallione to cancel the ceremony now?
I could lie beside her without claiming her body, deny lust its due, yet my chest tightened at the thought.
If I led the people to believe one thing and then acted in opposition, Elohios would not bless it.
“Congratulations—”
I looked up, searching his voice for mockery.
“—You’re going to be a father.”
“You don’t know that.” The words came clipped, guarded. Hope felt dangerous. “Even if she is, it’s been one week. She has months ahead.”
Months to lose it.
The thought hung unspoken, but heavy.
“She’s young,” Greaves said. “She survived Tallon and rides dragons for sport. I’ve no doubt she’ll carry your babe just fine.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “Even if Veridis has blessed us, I’ve had a chance at fatherhood already.” A bitter laugh escaped. “We know how that turned out.”
“She isn’t Eldeiade, Kal.” His grip tightened on the chair. “I’ll assign two Threshers to her. Elysia samples everything she eats or drinks. She must be told. Sivte hides in half our dishes.”
Sivte—a luxury herb—one on Rodrick’s list of forbidden things. Along with a variety of spices, wine, and more than I cared to count. Radaanian food ran mild, perhaps bland compared to Draconis plates, but even mild doses could harm a babe.
“She won’t be happy,” I said.
“No.” Greaves snorted. “But she’ll live.”
I never spoke to Fallione about the ritual.
Something stopped me each time the preparations came up, my tongue pressing against my teeth as reluctance took hold. Not fear. Reluctance. I would have to face Nienna, and she would demand to know why I was changing course. There would be no sidestepping it.
At dinner, I forced myself to eat, my expression carefully composed, armor cinched tight around my heart. I didn’t want to name it, to give it breath.
I was afraid.
For the first time in my adult life, true terror settled into my bones.
Because hope had found me.
When I sailed after Nienna, bound for Draconia, it was by my own hand. And when I faced Kalepsi, I accepted death as a consequence of choice. When I led men into battle and watched them fall, the burden was mine to carry. Every loss tied back to my will.
This was different.
The tiny babe growing within her could vanish despite strength, resolve, honor. All of it meant nothing here. I was useless.
And that helplessness hollowed me.
We collected our drinks before heading to the roof. I chose kahve over cider. Nienna had barely touched her meal, yet managed a full cup of salty peppermint without complaint.
“You’re quiet,” she murmured as we stepped beneath the stars.
A dragon swept low overhead, the rush of its wings lifting her hair.
“It’s been a long day.”
She nodded. “And there’s still much to prepare for.”
I braced my forearms against the wall, sipping the bitter brew. Fields below faded into shades of slate and ink, the harvested plots pale against darker swaths alive with growth.
“You didn’t serve wine tonight.”
I swallowed another mouthful of kahve and shook my head. “They’ll drink enough tomorrow. No need to dull them early.”
“Kallias.”
Withering fields, I was doomed. That tone sealed my fate. She knew.
I exhaled and set my mug down. She stood close, wrapped in a blue gown so deep it appeared black beneath the sky.
Gems scattered through her hair seized moonlight like fallen stars.
She stepped into me, setting her cup aside.
Unease shimmered in her eyes. Her lip caught between her teeth as her hands pressed to my chest, sliding down my arms until her fingers threaded with mine.
She guided my palm to her belly.
“I know.” The words tore from me, raw and reverent.
She laughed softly, startled and warm, holding my hand there as her other cupped my cheek. “Of course you knew.”
“Your cycle is eight days late, and the sickness has begun.” My voice steadied as truth spilled out. “That’s why you haven’t been eating.”
“The very thought of food turns my stomach.”
“And wine can addle its mind.” I met her gaze. “Which is why I had none served.”
“Overconsumption can harm the babe.”
My arm twitched, instinct urging retreat. She shook her head, a gentle smile easing her features.
“No hiding from this, Kallias. You may not feel the tiny kicks yet, but there’s no escape.” Her voice softened. “The life within me is yours.”
My chest swelled until breathing hurt. Joy crested, so exquisite it hurt. “It can’t be.”
“Are you accusing me of bedding another?”
“I would kill him,” I snarled, claiming her with a fierce, brutal kiss.
She was mine—my queen—carrying my child. I would share her with no one.
She yielded with a breathless moan, arms circling my neck. My hands anchored her, fingers splayed at her waist and nape as my mouth traced her jaw to the edge of her bandage. I pressed my lips to the cloth, anger roaring awake, insatiable and hungry. Tallon would pay.
“You’d better not be teasing me,” she growled, nails biting into my neck.
A laugh escaped as I lifted her onto the wall. She gasped, leaning back, blonde waves spilling free. I sank to my knees, gaze fixed on the faint swell beneath her navel. My hands closed around each leg, holding fast though I knew she was steady. She wouldn’t fall.
Our child.
Her fingers threaded into my hair as I stared, reverent. Fabric shifted with her breath, her quiet laughter trembling against the night.
“You’ll have to wait before you can see it.” She leaned sideways, one hand still cradling my head. Flaxen hair spilled like a waterfall over her shoulder, eyes bright with unshed tears.
“And you’ll have to wait before I bed you.” I nipped at her thigh through the cloth, and her grip sharpened in warning.
“‘Til tomorrow.”
“Until the babe is born.”
She snapped upright, thighs closing. My body jerked back just in time as she hauled me to my feet by my hair.
“I beg your finest pardon?”
I reached for her, but she shoved my chest away.
“What do you mean? We consummate our marriage tomorrow—before Elohios, Veridis, and all of Radaan.”
A frown settled over me. “I spoke with Rodrick today. He advised against such activities.”
“Such activities.” Her scoff scraped. “Tell me, has Rodrick ever carried a child?”
“He’s a respected healer.”
“And did he describe us as fragile creatures? As delicate flowers needing silence and plush cushions?” Fire flashed in her eyes, words sharp and accusing.
“You carry my heir.” My voice dropped to a growl. This was no game. “I will not jeopardize that.”
“You would cage me?” she snapped.
A dragon screamed in the distance.
My frustration cracked. I caught her hip, pulling her close, fingers tangling in her hair. She clutched my arm, grip fierce.
“I would keep you safe. Protection is not a cage.”
“And did you think to consult a midwife? A woman who has seen birth, not some man who makes half-educated guesses about the female body?”
“If I summoned one, the palace would erupt with rumors.”
“You’re ashamed.”
The accusation burned. I recoiled, dropping my hands as if she were a hot coal against my skin.
“Dragons above, Kallias.” She swore softly, leaping down to seize my jacket as a dragon’s shadow swept overhead. “I didn’t mean–”
“I crossed an ocean for you. Faced dragonfire for your honor. I left my kingdom vulnerable—”
She flinched as I went on, each statement firmer than the last.
“—I placed you before my court and named you Queen. You dare accuse me of shame?”
She took my rebuke, fingers still clutching my jacket, her anger easing as if she understood the true reason behind it.
Her mockery. The accusations. They unearthed wounds that had shaped me into the man I was. Each one stung. A small voice lingered in the back of my mind, whispering, fueling my fear. She was not Eldeiade. I was stronger now. Wiser. I would not allow it to happen again.
“Why didn’t you send for one?” Her expression gentled, hands slipping beneath my lapels, close to my heart.
I exhaled, easing the tension in my shoulders. “Because your condition is a weakness others would exploit. I dare not announce it—not until Tallon is dealt with. Preferably dead.”
“Edith knows.”
“Greaves and Rodrick as well. They will keep silent.”
“You trust the healer so completely?”
I scoffed. “I threatened to kill him if he so much as grunted to allude to it. But you believe he is incorrect?”
Her smile turned sly. “I know he is. Draconis women are not confined to their beds when carrying a child. If I asked Radaanian women, I suspect they would say the same. They do not shrink from their husband’s attention unless they were made to feel unwelcome from the start.”
“Then tomorrow’s ceremony?”
“Safe.” She arched into me, breath teasing my lips between each word. “Welcome. Anticipated. Desired.”
“And a midwife would second this?”
“Ask Edith. She delivered me.” She smoothed the crease from my brow with her thumb. “Mother wouldn’t send me to a foreign kingdom without one versed in our customs. Did you know some of our women give birth in the ocean?”
“Among the sea creatures?” I scowled, imagining all sorts of slimy beasts lurking in the depths, waiting for a freshly born babe.
“Yes.” She laughed. “Not my mother though, and nor would I. For me, it would be the dragons’ Nest or a proper chamber. I refuse to share my firstborn with an eel.”
A smile broke free as I glanced once more at her belly. “Then nothing changes. We’ll keep the secret until Tallon is dealt with.”
“Agreed.”
“You tell me if anything changes—if you need something. Anything.”
“I would, pregnant or not.” Mirth danced across her face.
She was my wife. My partner. Just as I no longer had to lead on my own, she already knew she would not face this alone. Other men might allow their women to vanish for the length of their pregnancies, but I would not be one of them. I would remain by her side.
I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Greaves will not be happy.”