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“Silas,” I tell him and his eyes dart to mine. “You can call me by my name most do, my Lord sounds so old,” I tell him. He laughs and I can’t help but smile at him.

“You are old though.”

I hear one of the cooks gasp at his words. But I am used to his sarcasm, though the ‘Lord’ thing hearing it from him is getting on my nerves a bit. I like the kid, always helpful and a good worker. He has been helping around the city when I need an extra set of hands.

Dragus walks in, nodding to Peter as the chef hands him a tray. I stand up and Dragus notices me, turning on his heel and walking out, pointedly ignoring me.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell Peter, quickly following Dragus into the hall.

“No Silas, don’t even ask,” he says, continuing down the corridor.

“Dragus, stop, please.”

He slows, then halts completely, turning to face me. “She doesn’t want to see you. You make her nervous, Silas.”

“She won’t forgive me if I can’t talk or see her,” I argue.

“You don’t deserve her forgiveness, and I am not going to tell her she should forgive you; it will just upset her, you going in there.”

“I won’t do anything, I just want to speak to her,” I tell him, looking toward her door.

“No, you will make her panic, she is convinced you are going to rip our baby from her and take it.”

“I would never do that.”

“Try convincing her of that, she is petrified of you. She can feel it, you know, what do you expect?”

“I will never stop hating the Fae, but that doesn’t mean I hate her.”

“She is Fae, our child will be part Fae, Silas, you going to hate your own child too?” he says, turning back to walk toward her door. I grab his arm stopping him.

“Please,” I beg. He looks toward the door.

“She isn’t even awake yet.”

“I will wait till she does,” I tell him, taking the tray from him. He hesitates but lets me take it.

“You try anything Silas”-

“I won’t,” I tell him, and he watches me, I feel him tug on the bond, letting him invade my thoughts and feelings.

“See?” he sighs.

“Make sure she takes those and eats all of it, she didn’t eat last night, the morning sickness has come back again,” he says pointing at the little white pills on the tray.

“What are they?” I ask while picking one up, concerned.

“Nausea tablets, Victor said they are safe, and won’t hurt the baby, though why she is worried when it’s immortal is beyond me,” he says. He looks tired.

“I will be back soon, don’t make me regret this,” he says, I grab his face with one hand. I kiss him and he seems shocked at first. I think he is going to push me away when he suddenly grabs the back of my neck, kissing me back. His guilt at kissing me back hits me. I feel his mixed emotions through the bond like he thinks kissing me is betraying her.

“I should go, I won’t be long,” he says walking off down the hall.

Walking in, I find her still asleep, laying on her side. I place the tray on the side table and take the chair beside her. I watch her sleep, noticing her belly move, seeing her skin tighten as the baby shifted within her. I tug up her shirt gently so I can see better. Moving in a wave like it has rolled over, I hear its heart beating softly inside her when it kicks, her skin pushing outward. I watch in amazement. Cautiously, I reach my hand out, hoping she doesn’t wake.

I place my hand where it is kicking. Her skin is soft but tight when I feel it bump my palm, I am so absorbed watching that I hadn’t noticed her waking until she jumps slightly, making my eyes dart to hers, her heart beating erratically in her chest in fright.