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Chapter 50
Overcome
Tes released the barest of sighs. Without even realizing it, her husband had saved her much grief. Guilt pinched her heart with its poison-tipped fingers. Even though he wasn’t aware of her pregnancy, he was still attuned to her enough to help, and she was rewarding him with a lie of omission.
But she couldn’t afford to think about that now.
She lowered her hand to her lap and cleared her throat. “He’s right. If I die, then my father wins. I believe my best chance is to blend in with the other fighters, preferably in the middle ranks. Even as numbers thin when we’re sweeping through the city, there will be nothing to distinguish me from the other soldiers.”
“You’ll not be given the same respect if you’re caught,” Mehl said.
“It would be easy enough to drop my glamour.” Tes shrugged. “If nothing else, they’ll haul me in front of my father. But I believe we’ll be able to break through without being captured.”
Ber gave her an indecipherable glance, one that made her squirm with discomfort. “What will I be doing?” he asked softly.
“You’ll fight beside me,” she replied. “I won’t leave you behind, that I promise. Hopefully, the two of us will be able to get through quickly if our new spies within the palace provide good enough information. And if Halueth manages to convince the inner guards to stand down, we’ll be able to claim the throne together.”
For a heartbeat, pain flickered in his eyes. “Are you sure you want me as your king?”
“What?” Tes peered at him. Why would he ask such a question? Then again, his entire demeanor had been off since he’d first entered the room. He hadn’t even come to her when she’d been upset that morning. “I don’t know why you doubt me. I’ve already told you I did.”
“I can’t imagine why,” he murmured. “Forget it.”
Gods. He couldn’t possibly know about the baby, could he? That odd tone in his voice, though… She sent a quick mental demand to Mery, but the healer vehemently denied having told anyone. Tes nibbled on her lower lip. He’d been training when she’d spoken to Ria during the armor fitting, and he’d been with Speran when she’d first found out. It had to be something else. Lingering insecurity, perhaps.
But worry weighed down her heart for far longer than the meeting’s duration.
Interminable hours after the meeting,Ber stared absently at the dim moonlight coating their bedroom wall. When they’d finally returned to their room after putting their son to bed, Ber and Tes had come together in a frenzy, almost as though they’d been making up after a fight. But there’d been no argument, only a tension neither of them had been willing to acknowledge. Now,though, she was curled up against him with her back against his chest, her breathing slow and even with sleep.
He caressed her hip, but she didn’t stir. Carefully, he slid his hand down to cover her belly, and for once, he allowed himself to feel the joy he’d been too afraid to permit. Their child. His—theirs—to protect. He had no intention of stopping his wife from reclaiming her throne, but he would give his life to ensure that their baby was born safely afterward. Thank the gods that they hadn’t tried to settle on a plan that would separate them, for he would have given away his knowledge of the pregnancy with his rejection of the idea.
He'd had words enough with Toren and Mehl, though the pair hadn’t been as in tune as he’d believed. Toren had told his husband even less than he’d learned from Ber, and he’d been upset himself at some of Mehl’s suggestions. Of course, when the king discovered that Tes’s hesitation was because of a mystery illness, he’d nearly destroyed everything with his intentions to confront her.
Thankfully, Ria was good at distracting both men.
After discussing the battle plans, Ber couldn’t deny that the next few days would be difficult and the ones beyond that brutal. Not only would every bit of preparation remind him of his wife’s pregnancy, but he would also have to contend with knowing the secret. With choosing not to press for a confession. And the terrible truth was that he might die in battle before she ever told him.
Were they doomed to miss every moment of true joy they might possibly share? He grieved the thought, but at the same time, he would make that sacrifice if he had to. He was a strong enough warrior to intercept any blow that might be directed her way. Of course, there was also the energy he received from Toren. He could direct it all to shielding his wife if needed. Ifthere was some curse on his own happiness, at least he could ensure theirs.
“What are you doing?” Tes murmured groggily.
Ber flinched, his hand going still. Naturally, she’d caught him rubbing circles over her stomach where their child grew. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry that I bothered you.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.” She twisted until she was on her back. Moonlight gleamed in her eyes as she studied his face. “You’ve acted strange all day.”
Though it might give away the depth of his knowledge, he couldn’t peel his hand from her belly. He could only flounder for an excuse. “Right now, I’m thinking about our future children. I want to be there for each birth, but this battle…”
She stiffened. “Why are you thinking about that now?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” he dared to ask, even as he cursed himself for doing so. Hadn’t he wanted her to tell him without any pressure? Yet here he was, unable to resist dancing around the topic.
“No.” Her throat worked. “I…can’t let myself contemplate more children while my father lives. I must kill him and reclaim the throne if our family hopes to survive.”
“You’re right. He’ll follow us until we’re subjugated or dead,” Ber said. “That’s why I wanted him to think you’d died here in Llyalia during your first pregnancy. But even if Ryenil would believe another deception like that, which I doubt, I wouldn’t do it. There may never be a better time to fight him. We can only hope for a better outcome for our family beyond that.”
Her skin grew so pale that it appeared almost translucent in the moonlight, and a tear shimmered silver as it rolled down her cheek. “You know.”
He hid a wince. He’d done his best to keep his words general, but something he’d said must have given it away. Still, he wouldn’t press.
