Page 92 of Be the Serpent

“I said I wasn’t willing to start trying until I was finished risking my life in a casual fashion,” I corrected. “Apparently, the universe had a different idea.”

His face slowly relaxed into neutrality. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“And you told Simon first.”

“He was dying. I shared my blood to save him. He must have picked up the thought from what he was swallowing.”

“So you didn’t tell him?”

“Not intentionally, or using actual words.”

“A baby.” He was starting to smile, his voice warming as the news sank in and made it past the first layers of stress and confusion. Then his eyes widened. “But before, when I—”

“You mean, when Titania.” I freed one hand, reached up, and touched his cheek. “You didn’t do anything. She forced you, and I’m fine. I’m fine, and the baby’s fine, and we’re both going to be fine.”

He put his hand over mine, keeping it in place, pinned to his face. “You know how my first wife died.”

“And you know I’m basically unkillable.” I stepped closer. “Can we try to be happy? Please? For me? For us? So I can be in a decent mood and not totally terrified when I go to tell Quentin and May? Oh, ash and oak, and Raysel. Is she going to think we don’t have room for her? That we want her to lea—”

His kiss cut me off mid-word, stopping me from going any farther down that particular spiral. I held on to my tension for a few seconds, then allowed him to pull me closer, kissing him back with as much enthusiasm as I had. That turned out to be a fairly large degree of enthusiasm. He slid his arms around me, tugging me along as he backed up and sat down on the bed, still kissing me.

When he finally paused, it was to smile at me with melting affection, still holding me close to him. “A baby,” he breathed. “Our baby. I’ve never been a parent before.”

I thought of Raj, and didn’t contradict him, just leaned over to rest my head against his shoulder. “Our baby,” I agreed. “I guess it’s time to start talking about names. Oh, and there’s that whole Sleeping Beauty story thing. Do purebloods have any weird ‘Hey we have a baby now’ traditions that I need to know about?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Well, there won’t be a christening, if that’s what you’re asking. There will be a party, however, to present the infant to the local nobility, and to allow them the opportunity to provide gifts. It’s traditional for the Firstborn of the parents to be invited. They never attend, of course.”

“Except that in my case, they actually might,” I said, and groaned.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow,” he said, leaning down to kiss me again, slow and deep and loving.

That was when the wards on the house were ripped out from underneath me. I screamed, jerking away. It was a sudden, violent loss, and it hurt like someone was slamming shards of glass into my skin. Only unlike actual shards of glass, there was no way for me to pull it out, and the pain continued, even though a physical injury would have healed before Tybalt had time to pull back and stare at me.

The pain continued. I kept screaming. The bedroom door slammed open, and May burst into the room, eyes wide and wild.

“Toby?” she demanded, a note of shrill terror in her voice. Her eyes snapped to Tybalt. “What’s wrong with her? Why is she screaming?” Then: “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said, sounding horrified. “I was kissing her, and she just—”

I tried to catch my breath, tried to stop screaming, and could do neither. Somehow, it seemed as if my lungs, despite being agonized by the lack of air, had an infinite capacity for screaming. Quentin lurched into the doorway behind May, staring at me, eyes wide, a short sword in his hand. Jazz was close behind him, visibly horrified.

All we needed was Rayseline and we’d have the full household. Not that it was doing any good, and not that I needed someone else here to witness me wailing. She deserved to be allowed time to settle in and adjust to being awake again before we went lurching into another crisis.

Well, she wasn’t going to get it. I finally managed to stop screaming long enough to catch my breath, and in the quiet that followed, I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. I looked to May, gasping, “Is that . . . Raysel?”

“She’s asleep in her room,” said May. “She was exhausted. I know that seems odd, given the whole ‘cursed to sleep for a century’ thing, but magical sleep and real sleep aren’t the same thing. She’s fine.”

I swallowed another painful breath. “Someone . . . on . . . stairs.”

She gave me a horrified look, then whirled around, paling as she stared at whoever was coming down the hall—whoever had ripped their way through my wards. “You can’t be here,” she gasped.

I tried to stand. Tybalt didn’t let me go.

Quentin turned. “You!”

I tried to stand again. This time, Tybalt released me, standing in near-unison, putting his hands on my shoulders. I drew my knives, keeping them low to my side.