by Renna Peak
“There’s really no sense in waiting,” he says. I can feel my husband staring at me, but my gaze is fixed on the painting on the other side of the room. “Either way, delaying the news doesn’t serve us.”
“Delaying what news?” Queen Penelope says as she glides across the room to take her seat. “You have news?”
I’m a little surprised Andrew’s mother doesn’t already know, considering he already told Leo. His brother isn’t exactly known for being able to keep his mouth shut about anything.
“Are Leopold and Elle joining us tonight?” Andrew rises to help his mother with her chair. “And Father?”
“Your father will be here, of course.” His mother eyes him carefully as he sits across from her. “As for Leopold and Elle…”
As if on cue, the two enter the dining room, though neither of them looks particularly pleased to be here.
Leo and Elle sit across the table as Andrew returns to take the seat next to me. Andrew’s younger brother gives his mother a weak smile. “Hello, Mother.”
She smiles widely. “I’m glad the two of you could join us. Apparently there’s news.” She turns back to Andrew. “So what is it that you need to tell us?”
My stomach turns again. I really don’t think this is the right time to make our announcement. Everything is still so surreal.
And considering how excited he is, it amazes me how Andrew can keep any trace of emotion from his expression. “We can discuss it when Father arrives.”
Penelope turns to me, lifting a brow. “Good news or bad?”
I gulp. I can’t honestly tell her which it is—I know Andrew thinks this is joyous news, but I’m still not so sure.
Andrew grabs my hand under the table, almost as though he reads my thoughts. He squeezes it as he smiles over at his mother. “Good news, I assure you.”
“We’re really doing this now?” Leo glares across the table at Andrew. “Now?”
Andrew’s mouth falls open, but he isn’t able to get a word out before Leo abruptly stands, taking Elle by the arm. “We’ll be taking dinner in our room. Apologies, Mother.”
We watch as the two leave, all of us too stunned to say a word. I’m not sure what’s going on between Andrew and Leo, but the moment passes quickly. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.
Penelope narrows her gaze at Andrew slightly as her brow arches again. She opens her mouth to say something, but King Edmund appears at the door before she can speak.
We all rise, standing until he waves at us to be seated. It’s another ritual I don’t like, but I can at least understand the ceremony of standing for a king. I look over at my husband. I don’t let myself think about it too often, but I know someday, I’ll be doing the same for him. Even if I do hate these formal dinners, I have no doubt that Andrew will want to carry on the tradition.
He’ll want his son to carry it on, too. My eyes widen for a second at the thought. I can’t believe I’m allowing my mind to go there again—fantasizing about a future that actually has a child in it.
I force a smile at no one in particular. I still feel like I might vomit—I can’t believe I’m sitting here about to tell Andrew’s parents that I’m pregnant.
“There’s news, Edmund.” Queen Penelope takes a long sip of her water, staring over the rim at Andrew. She sets down the glass and turns to her husband. “So important, apparently, that your son couldn’t be bothered to tell me without you in his presence.”
“Really.” Andrew’s father looks over at him with an expression I can’t really read. He stares at him expectantly for a long moment before the corners of his lips tick into the slightest of smiles.
He already knows. I shake my head to myself. Andrew told Leo, so of course he must have told his father, too.
I take in a long breath, about to tell the queen myself, but Andrew speaks before I can get a word out.
“Victoria is pregnant,” he says. I don’t have to look over at him to know he’s smiling—I can hear it in his words. “We’re having a baby.”
Andrew
My mother lets out a sound of both shock and joy. My father, always subdued, simply nods, but his eyes betray him. It’s a rare thing to see my father looking happy, but he does now.
“That’s wonderful,” my mother says, standing and coming toward us. She sweeps right past me to Victoria, taking my wife’s hands. “Simply wonderful, my dear.”
Victoria is blushing slightly. “It’s still so early. We don’t want to put too much hope on this, considering how difficult it might be…”
“I understand,” my mother says. “But we must always allow ourselves some hope, mustn’t we?” She glances over her shoulder at me, then back at my wife. “Come,” she says softly to Victoria. “Let’s have a few words in private.”
I stand and start to protest as my mother leads Victoria from the room, then catch myself. I know better than to try and get in the middle of whatever my mother is doing. Instead, I turn to my father, who’s come to stand beside me.
“Congratulations, Son,” he says, extending a hand. “You must be quite pleased.”
From my father, that’s practically a shout of joy. I take his hand, smiling. “I didn’t think it possible. The physician says it’s a miracle. But after everything, our prayers have been answered.”
He nods. “Fatherhood is a big responsibility.”
He doesn’t have to tell me that. Still, it cheers me even more to see my father reaching out, trying to pass on his knowledge to me.
As one day, I’ll pass on knowledge to my own child. In my head I can already imagine it—a proud, thoughtful little boy. Or a bright, ambitious little girl. Or…God, the possibilities are endless. Will it be a boy or a girl? Will he love games and hate his studies? Will she be rebellious and spend her free time playing pranks on the servants? It doesn’t matter who my child is—I will love him or her unconditionally. The more I try to imagine the child, the warmer and fuller my chest feels.
But it’s a long road until I get to meet my son or daughter, and for the moment, there are more pressing worries.
Like Victoria.
I want her to be happy. I want her to feel comforted and safe. I want her to allow herself to experience the joy of this miracle. It broke my heart earlier to see the fear in her eyes, to hear the heartache in her voice. I can’t assure her that everything will be all right, but I want her to feel some measure of peace—I just don’t know how to get through to her.
As if my thoughts have brought her back, she and my mother return, my mother’s arm looped through my wife’s.
I take my place beside Victoria. As my mother and father move toward their seats, my fingers slip through my wife’s. I want her close to me now more than ever before.
She looks different than she did before she left the room. Calmer, perhaps. A little more at peace.
As we sit, I lean over toward her.
“What did my mother say to you?” I murmur softly into her ear.
“She just gave me some advice, woman to woman,” Victoria whispers back.
“What sort of advice?” I press, curious.
Victoria looks up at me, and the hint of a small crosses her lips. “Secret advice.” She leans closer and brushes her lips against my cheek. “I love you, Andrew.”
The warm feeling in my chest expands, filling me up. “I want you to be happy, Victoria.”
“I know,” she says. “And we’ll figure it out, the three of us.” Her hand moves to her belly, her fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her dress.
“We will,” I agree. “And I know in my heart that this will be the best Christmas of our lives.”
Six Weeks Before Christmas
Victoria
Something bumps against the outside of my bedroom door. A moment later, Andrew enters, a pile of books in his arms.
“I think I got every one you asked for,” he says, peeking over the top of the stack. “And a few you didn’t.”
To say my husband has
been doting would be an understatement.
It wasn’t long after our announcement to his family several months ago that I was placed on bedrest. This pregnancy has given us one scare after another.
I rub my belly. It’ll only be a few more weeks, and this little one can safely enter the world. And I’ll be able to get out of bed for the for the first time in months.
He sets the books on the bedside table. “Have you thought any more about it?” Andrew gives me a smile as he sits beside me.
“All I do is think these days.” I roll over to face him. “Was there something specific I was supposed to be thinking about this time?”
“About what you want for Christmas.” He places a hand on my abdomen, much as he does each day about this time. “I can’t believe our child will be here in only a matter of weeks.”
“I know.” I place my hand over his.
“Ha! He kicked.” Andrew grins. “My son is going to be a star football player.”
“Or daughter.” I can’t help but return the smile. We decided not to find out the gender, but Andrew seems to have already decided that there is a baby boy growing inside me.
“Or daughter.” He rubs at the place where the baby is jamming its foot into my side, causing it to kick again.
“I think what I’d really like is to see my new niece and nephew.” I lift myself into a near sitting position. “They’re almost two months old, and I still haven’t seen them.”
“Perhaps William and Justine will come for Christmas.” Andrew’s brows knit together. “We’ll have our own child by then. But for now, you aren’t supposed to be upright. You need to lie back down—”
“I need to go to the bathroom, then.” I frown at him. The only time I’m allowed to be up is to use the toilet—I can’t even so much as shower.
His gaze narrows a bit. “Victoria…”
“You have no idea how difficult it is to do nothing.” I shake my head at him as I lie back down, finding a comfortable position on my side again. “You’d think it would be great, but it really sucks.”
He smiles down at me before he leans forward, placing a kiss on my temple. “You’re not doing nothing. You’re growing our child inside you. That is the most important work in the world.”
I know he’s right, but doing nothing but lying in bed all day is still the worst sort of torture.
“Just think, in a few weeks, we’re going to wish we could do nothing but lie in bed. Our little one is going to have us up all night, so sleep deprived we aren’t going to know what day it is.” He kicks his legs up onto the bed before he slides his arms around me.
I rest my head on his shoulder as he pulls me against him. His hand finds my belly again, and we hold each other. We’re silent, even though I’m sure we’re thinking about the same thing.
We’re actually going to have a baby. This is actually going to happen. It’s still surreal sometimes. And there has been enough uncertainty over the past several months that there have been many times where I’ve convinced myself that something terrible was just about to happen. The physicians have told us if we can make it to the end of November—a month before the due date—the baby can probably be born safely.
And nothing too terrible has happened. I’ve done my job, dutifully staying in bed all these months. I haven’t even seen the nursery Penelope has been working on. She’s asked for my input, but the whole thing has been done without me. Part of me is dying to see it—to help get it ready for this little one. It’s a good sign, I suppose—wanting to nest—but I’ve done everything the doctors have told me to do, staying in bed for months on end.
He finally kisses my temple again. “I should go back to work.”
“Please stay.” I slide my hands up his chest. “For just a little while longer.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He pulls my hand into his, kissing the back of my fingers. “Believe me, I’m counting the days, too.”
I frown at him, but I know he’s right. We haven’t been allowed to have sex—at all—since I was put on bedrest. And even though I’m as big as a house now, I’ve never wanted him more.
“Twelve more days until we can be together again as husband and wife. Don’t think I haven’t been counting.” He smiles. “Twelve days and you’ll be out of this bed. And we’ll be free to do as we please.” His smile widens to a grin. “At least until the baby comes.”
“Twelve more days.” I let out a long sigh. “I guess if I’ve made it this far, I can make it twelve more days.”
Andrew
After I leave Victoria, I head outside. It’s been a long year—first with our conflict with Rosvalia, then our wedding and all its complications, and finally now with this pregnancy—but though I’m emotionally and physically exhausted, I’ve never felt more blessed. Even the headache I’ve been battling for the last couple of days seems like such a small thing right now. My back aches from long hours spent at my desk, trying to get as much work as possible done before the birth, but even that is a small complaint.
I stuff my hand into my pocket, curling my fingers around the little lump of metal I’ve been keeping there as a good luck charm of sorts. The air has been sharp and cool for a couple of months now, and the wind coming down off the mountains bites at my cheeks.
Winter will be early this year, I think, staring up at the gray sky.
As if in direct response to my thoughts, tiny white flakes begin to drift from the clouds, blown about by the wind on their way down. The first snow of the year.
Grinning, I spread my arms and turn around, letting the flakes land on my fingertips. They melt immediately, but with some luck, we’ll have a thin layer of snow on the ground by morning.
Winter is always my favorite time of year. There’s something about the starkness, the majesty, that makes me feel content and peaceful. It’s a time of contemplation, a time of change. And that couldn’t be truer this year.
I look back toward the palace. They’ve already decorated for Christmas, and my home looks like something out of a storybook. Garlands hang across the doors and larger windows, and twinkling candles shine in the others. Every major doorway is flanked by gold filigree decor, all swirls and glittering lights, and red ribbons have been tied around every lamppost across the grounds. Clusters of bells hang from branches on many of the trees, and they tinkle as the breeze pushes them back and forth.
These decorations aren’t just for the enjoyment of my family—on Christmas Eve, we open our palace to the people of the city. Every year on the day before Christmas, a tree is chosen from the nearby forest to serve as the official Tannenbaum of Montovia, and we carry the tree up from the city into the Grand Ballroom, where it’s displayed for all to see. The tree is then decorated—with help from our citizens—with garlands, ribbons and an ornament from each family, and finally, each member of the royal family places a candle among the boughs.
I’ve always enjoyed the tradition, as have our citizens—after the decorating of the Tannenbaum, there’s dancing and caroling and plenty of food—but this year, I suspect I’ll be distracted. By the morning after, my child could be here. The thought of that brings me such joy.
But with the joy comes some trepidation, too. It’s been impossible to miss how hard this has been on Victoria. This pregnancy would have been difficult enough had she been able to be up and about, but bedrest has only made her restless. There’s been nothing to distract her from the possibilities, nothing to keep her anxiety at bay. And I don’t know how to comfort her, not when I can’t even take her into my arms like I want to.
Footsteps crunch behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turn and find my brother Leopold there behind me, with Eleanor next to him, her hands around Matthew’s. My little nephew has been trying so hard these last couple of weeks to take his first steps on his own, but for the time being, he seems content to toddle along with his mother’s help.
Leopold’s grin widens when he sees me.
“It’s snowing!” he says, looking as e
xcited by the weather as I feel. “It’s going to be a cold winter if it’s starting this early.”
Matthew takes a misstep on the cobblestones, nearly falling, and even though Elle manages to keep him upright, he blinks, clearly shaken. His bottom lip begins to shake, and a moment later, he begins to wail.
In an instant, Leopold is crouched down beside him.
“It’s all right,” he says gently. “You’re all right.”
Watching my formerly irresponsible younger brother comfort his son makes me feel warm inside, reminding me of what awaits me in a few short weeks. My headache has returned in full force, but I ignore the pain as I watch them.
When Matthew is calm again, Leopold straightens with a grin.
“You’re getting pretty good at that,” I tell him.
He laughs. “It’s taken a lot of practice.”
As Elle leads Matthew over to the edge of a little pond, my brother comes to stand beside me.
“You ready for yours?” he asks.
“As much as I can be.”
“Terrified yet?”
“More than you can know.”
“Trust me—I do know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s funny how much one little person can change your life. Everything I thought I knew about the world was wrong. I’d do anything for Matthew. Anything to keep him happy and safe. I don’t want him to want for anything in life.”
I frown. My brother and I haven’t talked outright about Matthew losing his role as heir since that day back in my study, months ago. Leopold insisted everything was fine, but I’m still not sure it is.
“No matter what happens, you know we’ll make sure Matthew is provided for,” I assure him.
Leopold raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think something is going to happen to Elle and me?”
“No, not at all,” I quickly correct him. “I just meant…well, given that Matthew no longer inherits the throne…” I trail off, not sure how to articulate the thoughts in my head. Finally, I say, “I don’t want there to be any tension between us, Leopold. Or between our children.”