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Breckon’s face was thunderous, but I swallowed laughter again, because once again, she’d pinned him.
He knew I’d never slept with him.
He knew if I was pregnant, it wasn’t his. But now she’d made him afraid that if he offered this binding, he’d be harmed by it if I was pregnant by another.
Yet, he’d already implied that we had mated…
I could barely wait to see how he’d retreat.
Yet, all this talk of bleeding and babies made my cheeks hot as I turned to look at Breckon. The crowds around us began to snicker, their voices rising above a whisper to low murmurs.
Glowering at Lady Ashford, his gaze pure venom, Breckon raised his chin and set his jaw. “The girl is mine. Any child of hers is of my blood—no other would be strong enough. Yet, I am a patient man: If there is any chance she has deceived me, I will happily wait your days to affirm, one way or the other.”
“If there is a way to test the baby’s sire, why not do it now?” the king asked, irritated.
“Until the babe is truly safe in the womb, it would not survive the power required to reveal its presence, or parentage,” Lady Ashford said with a falsely humble curtsey. “If Lord Breckon truly has overwhelmed her, of course he will not want the child risked.”
Breckon quivered, his lips twitching.
I suffered a jolt. I refused to let them bespell me—but of course Breckon would see the opposite. He’d want the baby risked! He knew it would be Voski’s! For the first time, truly chilling fear crawled up my throat. “There is no babe,” I murmured, then turned to the queen, beseeching her with my eyes, before pleading directly to the king. “I am not pregnant, Sire!”
“If that is true, when could we be sure of this?”
I blinked. I’d lost track? One day? Two? “I, uh, I am not certain, Sire… the travel. I believe two more days, but—”
The king sighed, shaking his head and sitting back in his seat. “I still don’t understand why they cannot offer the binding words as planned. This is not the vow of marriage—this is a statement of their intent—”
“Intent is a powerful tool, Sire,” the Lady Ashford offered quietly. “If she is pregnant, and he is the father, the binding would strengthen the babe. But if he isn’t… it could die. Yet, the man with strength capable of bringing her alive must be identified! And we cannot cast the weaves over a dead child. There is no blood to sing! No, the babe must be alive, and safe within her—only then might we ask the gods to reveal the father and still save the child. But if Breckon is not the father and he offers the binding words, not only will it harm him, it will harm the babe as well.”
“And if she bleeds?” the king asked.
“Then we know there is no risk.”
Breckon’s lips went tight and the hair on the back of my neck stood up when he spoke, his tone wheedling. “I am the servant of the crown and of the Circle. I would be happy to sacrifice the child for the greater good. It is mine. Kill it, and I will merely begin again. Thus proving to you—”
“Sire, it is possible he seeks to remove evidence of his rival,” the Lady Ashford said slyly. “A man who has succeeded where he failed.”
“I do no such thing!” Breckon roared, whirling on her. “I am certain of my strength and ability to bring her a child again, and—”
“What happens if you test the babe and it isn’t of the old blood?” the king asked sharply.
Lady Ashford nodded her head once. “The king is wise and sees clearly: If she does not bleed, and somehow her body has ignited a child without the power, it will be sickly. It will die. It is only a matter of time.”
My belly clenched. That was a lie… wasn’t it? ‘Voski—’
“And if you seek the father and discover a man without power?”
“The child would not survive the rite, and we would have our answer, even without his name,” she said.
“Then, the answer is clear: If there is no babe, or the babe’s blood isn’t ancient, nothing changes,” the king said with an impatient wave of his hand. “Correct?”
“Yes, Sire,” Lady Ashford said slowly.
“Very well. We wait. Within days, the truth will be revealed—either by her body, or by your queries. And if nothing has changed, then she will marry Breckon as planned. We can put off the festivities for two days.”
“But, Sire!” Breckon was indignant. “The Lady Ashford only seeks time to steal Grace away—”
“False. I wish to see the old blood ignited, even more than you, Breckon,” the Lady Ashford spat. “I simply refuse to waste it on an undeserving man.”
