“A few days.”
“Sule said forty-eight hours.”
Leena looked irritated.
“Sule worries.”
“Sule is right.”
“I’ll recover.”
“You don’t know that.”
She turned her face toward the fire.
Rhen crossed to the hearth without surrendering the child and kicked one of the logs deeper into the flames. Sparks rose through the grate.
Heat spread slowly into the room.
It changed nothing.
Leena remained pale.
Too pale.
Rhen looked at the baby in his arms, then at the woman in the chair.
“What did the medic say?”
“That I need rest.”
“What else?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Did she take blood?”
Leena hesitated.
Rhen’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t think it was necessary.”
“Then she is incompetent.”
“She delivered our son.”
“Ten minutes too late.”
Leena’s mouth twitched.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re hiding something.”
