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Ildris was a good leader. So was her brother. Byzenmaach did not stand on the precipice of civil unrest and nor was it warmongering against its neighbours.
Could it be that these two men simply enjoyed talking decisions to death? More power to them, if that was their jam, but, well...
Did she really have to be here?
She stood and stretched, her hand on her lower back, which pushed her stomach out—and while she wasn’t huge, there was no mistaking her these days for anything but well along in her pregnancy. Cas’s eyes flashed from irritation to concern as he too rose from his chair. The ever-present Rudolpho pulled her chair back as Ildris rose too.
‘Again?’ asked her brother.
‘Again,’ she murmured just a little too cheerfully. ‘Your Majesty, Lord Ildris, I must beg your leave. My mind wanders, my back aches, and we’re down to discussing minutiae. You don’t need me here. That’s a compliment, not a complaint.’
Ildris remained impassive, her brother frowned.
She wasn’t above wondering if she should put her hand on her belly to further emphasise her need to be elsewhere, but that was guaranteed to make her brother frown more.
Cas’s eyes narrowed as if reading her mind. ‘Do you need to see your physician?’
‘Only if I want her to tell me—again—that it’s perfectly normal for pregnant women to have aching backs and get tired and go to the bathroom a lot.’
Rudolpho, bless him, was already opening the outer door for her.
‘You’ll be here tomorrow?’ It was Cas her brother and not Cas her King asking. She was almost sure of it.
‘No, I’m heading back to the mountains for the weekend. I want to be there when Tomas’s black-necked and red-necked grebe pairs arrive.’
‘His what?’
‘Ducks.’ She winked at Rudolpho. ‘Yes, the sexiest falconer in the world collects endangered waterfowl and I am there for it.’
‘Are these my ducks or his ducks?’ Cas called after her. ‘When did I agree to become king of the ducks?’
‘You didn’t. They’re not yours. They’re ducks of the world.’ A playful Cas was an absolute delight. He didn’t let himself go there nearly often enough. ‘You’re welcome!’
With her priorities rebalanced and Tomas more often by her side, Claudia began to spread her time more evenly between the royal palace, the fortress and the manor. She’d loved the Aergoveny manor house from afar and the reality did not disappoint. It had the potential to reflect the best of all her worlds and it suited Tomas to perfection. He had vision, natural authority, rock-solid steadiness and fairness at his command, and people responded by working hard for him. Falcons and learning and research and renewal of resources long forgotten. Why wouldn’t people gladly follow him to the top of the world and back?
She was just over seven months pregnant now and last week the palace had released a statement saying she and Tomas were eagerly expecting their firstborn in November. Yes, people could count and would know that she’d been pregnant before marriage. Who cared?
Her life balance was better than good; it was amazing. Happiness had never been so easy to find.
Until the night Claudia stood alone in her dressing room in her brother’s palace as she readied herself for yet another long afternoon of political jockeying disguised as small talk and noticed blood on her panties. Not a lot of blood. A few spots. Four. Maybe six spots overall, none of them big. But the blood was a bright, vibrant red and it rocked her confidence and put a fear in her that nothing else ever had.
She couldn’t lose this baby.
Tomas would have no reason to stay with her if she lost the baby, no reason at all, and no. This wasn’t happening. She wouldn’t run, she’d just sit down, but not on a chair where the blood would soak in, and not on any carpet either. Just for a moment, she’d sit down on the floor in the bathroom, or lie down, that was better, and put her feet up on the edge of the bath and everything would right itself and there would be no problem at all.
She cradled her belly with tender hands. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if there was no November baby for her and Tomas, Lord and Lady Sokolov of Aergoveny.
Would his vows stay true in the face of all that gaping nothing?
Who in her life had ever stuck around if she didn’t deliver what they wanted?
‘It’s just your insecurities talking,’ she told herself between jagged, too-loud breathing. ‘Tomas’s regard for you is real. You know this. He shows it every day.’ He wasn’t a man of love poems and verbal declarations of undying devotion. Actions counted more. He was committed to her and this life they were building. That wouldn’t change. He was not a shallow man, this man she’d chosen. Loss might even bring them closer.
But later that night, after she’d begged off her meeting due to feeling unwell and had seen the doctor, who’d ordered more rest and fewer engagements...much later, after she’d returned to the winter fortress and taken herself to bed early, she didn’t tell Tomas about those seven, eight, bright little spots on her panties. She pretended to be drowsy, already half asleep, and let him hold her, just hold her, as he drifted off to sleep.
While bits of her bled and she remained stubbornly, fearfully silent.
If she didn’t say it, it wasn’t happening.