“I will try,” Satia sighed. “I just need a bit more rest, my King. I am tired.” She cradled her belly, rubbing the mound.
“My poor dearest, bearing the light of the world. I’ll leave you to get some rest.” Xyrath rose to his feet, heedless of the long smudge of dirt he left on the coverlet. “I’ll have a word with Tarwain, remind him that your health is everything.”
Satia smiled up at him. “You take such good care of me,” she said, holding out her hand.
Xyrath took it gently and kissed it. “Did I tell you that the Master Sculptor Muris has offered to do the initial sketches for my statue?” Xyrath straightened and puffed out his chest. “Nude, of course, with a crown of laurel, to celebrate our ascent to the throne.”
“I only hope he can capture your likeness perfectly,” Satia dropped her eyes to his groin.
Xyrath let out a hearty laugh.
Satia tilted her head. “Did he happen to mention a cost for his work?”
“Cost?” Xyrath scoffed. “Oh, I am sure he will do it just for the glory of being the Royal Sculptor.”
“Of course,” Satia said.
Xyrath bowed to her. “Until later, my Queen.” He strode out, raking his fingers through his hair. “No triumph, lads,” he bellowed to the entourage waiting. “Let’s hit the baths.”
As soon as the door closed, Caris stepped forward and started to roll back the filthy coverlet. Mira pulled another one out of the cupboard, smelling of sunshine and fresh from the laundry.
Mira reached to plump the pillows up behind Satia as Avice reopened the curtains.
“Everyone has a hand out,” Satia murmured as she stared at the door. “All reaching, grasping, clutching, seeking power and riches.”
Caris removed the filthy coverlet. “So all do, Bonded,” she murmured in response.
“Tarwain is becoming an issue.” Satia held out her hands to Avice, who wiped them carefully with a warm, wet cloth. “He whines about that daughter of his and presses for more power and a barony. No patience in that man.” Satia nodded to Avice, who started to dry her hands with a warm cloth.
“I told him that he can move on the Black Hills once the Lord High Baron Orval is killed by the rebels, but he wants everything this instant. Men. Don’t they realize that planning is all? And success, the reward of carefully thinking things through?”
They all softly indicated their agreement as they finished smoothing the clean coverlet into place.
“Nora, you will tend to our guest.” Satia settled back against the pillows.
Nora pulled her hands back abruptly. “Bonded, I am not really the nursing type. Mira deals with that kind of thing far better than I.”
Satia raised an eyebrow.
Nora bowed her head. “Yes, Bonded.”
“I will release you once he is weaned from the drug and the moon-child arrives to care for him.”
Nora kept her head bowed in obedience.
“Now, when can I expect word from the Black Hills?” Satia asked.
“Captain Ussin won’t return until midafternoon, Bonded.” Caris said. “The mages are to reopen the portal then.”
“Fine.” Satia stretched, yawned and snuggled back under the blankets. “I need to consider. To think.” She took a long slow breath, then curled on her side. “Wake me in two hours,” she commanded with a graceful, dismissive wave of her hand.
“Yes, Bonded.” Caris reached for the tray as the others returned to their tasks. So she was the one that saw the discontented pout form on Satia’s face even as her mouth opened to form a demand.
“Chamber pot.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
He supposed that if one was going to fail, it was best to do it early.
