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He retrieved a whetstone to sharpen his sword. Way to set the mood for a productive chat.

As we waited, I nervously traced my icons while he worked on his blade. I asked, “No vodka for you?” I hadn’t seen him drink since we’d returned.

Graaaate went the stone. “When you can have none? Also, I relish my clarity now that I’m not being mind-controlled.” Fair enough. “Did you condone Lark’s actions?”

His question gave me no wiggle room, so I ignored it. “I think we should calmly talk to her about the creature. We’ll just ask her not to do it anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes, reading me so well. “So you didn’t condone her actions, might even have forbidden them. She willfully went against you. This is what happens—alliances splinter, as I’ve told you before. You might have folded first in past games, but it was inevitable.” He seemed to bite his tongue over his folded first comment.

“Inevitable?” I drew my head back. “Will you and I splinter now?”

“Never. Now that the Hanged Man is dead, we are beyond that possibility. But the others aren’t, and each Arcana presents a risk. The only reason Fauna remains here after that bear stunt is because I considered her to deliver Tee. Yet seeing her in such a state has convinced me that’s not possible.”

I pictured the gleam of bloodlust in her eyes. They’d been like that when she’d cut away part of my arm to remove the cilice as we fled Ogen. And just weeks ago, she’d gazed at Paul’s body with a savage hunger. Would an Arcana’s labor send her into a frenzy?

If I revealed my worries to Aric, he’d kick her out tonight.

Graaaate. “In lieu of Fauna, we will need a doctor for you.”

“After Paul, I’m a little leery of medical professionals. Besides, where are we going to find a decent doc out in the Ash . . . ?” I trailed off with realization. “You’re not going to the Sick House.”

He raised his brows.

“Forget it. The Pentacles run it, and all the Minors want me dead, remember?”

He scraped his thumb over the edge of his sword. “I can motivate even the most reluctant.”

“Not me.”

“When you were in Jubilee, who had you planned to deliver the baby?”

“A midwife, but she’s dead now. So you’ll have to do it. How hard can it be? I push and you catch.”

He inhaled, as if for patience. “I take it you haven’t read any of the books on pregnancy I set aside for you.”

Kind of like reading about a plane crash while in midflight. After all, I’d been starved, stabbed, envenomed, and terrified for my life during this pregnancy. Oh, and the Bagger mutation might still course through my veins.

Not to mention what my grandmother had written in my chronicles: She has no idea what Life and Death become. . . .

Though I had serious doubts, I said, “Look, we’re going to be fine. We’ve faced worse odds, and we’re due for a break.”

“Sieva, pregnancy is out of my wheelhouse. It’s the opposite of me and my powers.”

I patted my growing belly. “And yet . . .”

He laid the stone and sword on his desk blotter. “What if something goes wrong?”

“Then you can cut Tee out of me.” Paul’s surgical tools remained here. “I’ll heal, and I’ve proved I’m pretty tough with pain tolerance. This should be cake.”

“It’s not that simple. I might slice the baby if you move during the surgery. And you will move, since I have no anesthesia. The Sick House would, though.”

“Get that idea out of your head, Aric. It’s too dangerous.”

“There’s another reason I shouldn’t deliver our son—I might not be able to touch him.” His face was grim. “The merest contact with my skin could kill him.”

“You’ve worried about this? You’re his father. Of course you can touch him.”

“How can you know for certain? Are you ready to take the chance that you might be wrong?” He gazed toward the window, to the unending snow. “I either set out in the next couple of weeks to find help or we’ll forfeit even that option.”

I pointed at myself and said, “Push,” then pointed at him. “Catch.”

I could tell he was far from sold, but he didn’t argue his point further.

A text notification chimed on his phone. He scanned the message with a furrow in his brow.

Was Jack safe? “What’s happened?”

“Nothing dire. An update on their progress. They made good time today.”

When Aric pocketed the phone, I asked, “How much are you and Jack talking?” I’d thought that the two of them would be friends in different circumstances. Seemed they were even in these.

He shrugged. “We text often and talk on occasion.”

His too-casual tone made my body vines stir under my skin. I got the sense he didn’t want me on his phone—which meant I would be as soon as he let down his guard.