“Your Majesty?” Surprise pitched his tone high, though he masked it well.
“What conditions endanger her or the babe?”
He blinked, fingers lacing together in his lap. “There are a great many things—but that is best left between a woman and her midwife.”
Papers crumpled beneath my forearms as I leaned forward. “I did not ask for your opinion. I gave an order, and I expect it to be obeyed. Tell me.”
Greaves lingered in the shadows, settling into a chair near the bookshelf. He understood this would take time.
“Forgive me.” Rodrick licked his lips, hands twisting before he steadied them. “It is customary for midwives to oversee such matters. Noble menfolk prefer ignorance.”
And if I summoned a midwife, the palace would hum with speculation before nightfall. Men being kept in the dark was precisely why I sent for him.
I was no stranger to the human body. But my exposure to pregnancy began and ended with Eldeiade and distant courtly observations. Once their seed was secured, men seemed to treat their wives like fragile relics—or avoid them altogether as if they were diseased. Logic told me it was folly, but noble opinion formed the only pattern I had. I needed more information.
“I am King of Radaan,” I said. “And I choose to be enlightened. Is it common for them to refuse food?”
“It is not rare.” He inclined his head. “Early seasons bring sickness. A woman of standing may avoid eating to spare herself embarrassment or to prevent public humiliation.”
Blood surged, pride singing in my veins. Nienna’s thin appetite fit the pattern too neatly. Hope flared, bright and dangerous.
“Does the sickness pass?”
“In most cases.” His brow creased, his discomfort on the subject plain. He wanted me to summon a midwife.
Not yet.
“It seldom lasts the full term. If it does, the babe suffers. Rest is vital. They should remain in their chambers. No startling events. No undue excitement.”
I nearly choked.
Kept to her rooms? Nienna?
Elohios preserve me.
“What kind of excitement? How is excess determined?”
“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 betweenstone 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.
