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.”
