“Mornings.” Puzzled at the woman’s response, Eve tilted her head. “He only found out about it this morning because he did not leave as early as usual.”
“Tell me more.” The woman set aside her stitching and gave Eve her full attention.
“It started a week ago.” Eve tried to think of anything else that could be important. “Every morning I wake up with the need to empty my stomach. After I do, I am fine.” Looking at her friend’s focused features, Eve started to feel a little worried.
“Have you had any trouble with dizziness or wanting certain foods?” Yulandra counted the items off on her slim fingers as Eve nodded at each. Yulandra smiled brightly and jumped to her feet. “I know what is wrong with you.” Eve looked at her in amazement.
“You are happy about this?” Hesitant to believe what she saw, Eve glanced around for Isica.
“Eve.” Yulandra caught her hands and pulled her to her feet. “You are pregnant.”
Eve felt faint. Sitting abruptly, she gripped the arms of the chair.
“Eve?” Yulandra knelt at her feet. Eve fought the waves of emotion. “Do you want me to get you something? I have never seen you look so pale.”
Eve shook her head before managing, “H . . . how do I tell Trahern?”
“Whatever do you mean?” This time Yulandra looked confused. “This is the best news a wife can give her husband.”
“It is?”
“Of course. A child, a son, an heir . . . Eve, every man wants children, especially Trahern.”
Isica, who had been trying to catch a grasshopper near the edge of the rosebushes, suddenly jumped up and ran out of sight with a cry. “T’en! I’ic!”
Eve felt even sicker. Her connection to the world suddenly wobbled and her stomach tied in a knot.
Yulandra leaned close. “If you want, I will tell him.”
Eve shook her head as Ireic and Labren appeared from behind the roses. Han was with them and surprisingly, he was the one carrying Isica. Noticing this, Yulandra lost a little of her own composure.
“Ah, girls,” Ireic smiled as they approached.
Immediately noting Eve’s coloring, Labren moved quickly to her side. While the others exchanged greetings behind them, he leaned close.
“Why are you out here? You promised me you would rest.”
His dark blue eyes were even darker than usual.
Unfortunately for Labren, his gentle rebuke was the last straw and the emotions of the entire morning and afternoon suddenly seemed too much.
“Yulandra says I am pregnant.” Eve fled inside.
Pregnant… their child… Slowly and carefully, Labren sat down in the chair Eve had just vacated. Eve was with child. For some crazy reason, he had forgotten about this possibility. It made sense, considering the changes in their relationship two and a half months before, but a child? A quiet joy began to grow in his chest.
“Trahern? Is Eve all right?”
Ireic’s voice cut through his thoughts. Raising his eyes to focus on his brother’s face, Labren realized the reason they had made this unusual trip to the garden was no longer possible.
“We cannot stay longer.” Ireic’s face took on an odd look of confusion and surprise.
“What do you mean you cannot stay? Stay here now or the proposal we discussed? Did you ask her?”
“No, but I have decided we are leaving as soon as we possibly can.” Before his brother could manage the question on the tip of his tongue, Labren explained. “Eve is going to have a child.” Pushing himself out of the chair, Labren turned and went in search of his wife.
Han and Ireic looked after him in a stunned silence. Finally Yulandra spoke. “I take it you were trying to persuade him to stay longer.”
“Yes, and he seemed sold on the idea a moment ago,” Han replied. He set the squirming Isica on the ground. She dove for the nearest grasshopper. Wondering what it would be like to be a father, he slowly turned back to the King and his sister. He was surprised to find Yulandra watching him with a look that he refused to analyze.
Oblivious to the silent exchange, Ireic sat down in a nearby chair. He ran his hands over his head, neatly avoiding the circle of gold among the strands. “I guess I am going to have to negotiate that marriage contract with the King of Sardmara after all.”
Isica, with a crow of triumph, pounced upon a slow-moving moth only to have it evade her at the last moment.
“Eve?” Labren pushed aside the door so he could see into the bedroom. His wife was nowhere in sight. He opened his mouth to call again when a soft sound drew his attention to the floor on the opposite side of the bed. With quick strides, he crossed the room and rounded the end.
His wife sat with her back to the wall. As he approached, she raised her face. Tear trails traced over her cheeks. She flashed him a wobbly smile.
“Sorry I left.”
Labren settled in front of her with his back against their bed before he spoke.
“Why are you crying?”
When she did not reply, he looked up and met her watery gaze. Her bottom lip trembled and he could not stand the distance any more. Reaching over, he pulled her into his lap. Silently, she curled against him.
After a few moments during which he stroked her hair, she finally said, “I was frightened that you would be angry.”
“Sweetheart!” Labren tried to get her to look up, but she only burrowed deeper against him. “Please let me see your face, Eve,” he pleaded.
Reluctantly, she raised her head, but still would not look at his eyes. She concentrated on his chin.
“I love you.” His voice sounded rougher than he had intended. “And I am going to love our child.”
Finally, Eve lifted her eyes to his.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No, I should be the one saying thank you.” Labren caught her precious face between his hands. “Because Kurios brought you to me I am alive and going to be a father.” After kissing her damp cheeks, he drew back and smiled. “If you had not been stubborn about not letting me die, I would have never reconciled with my brother or sister. Isica would have never have known her Uncle T’en and I would have never had the joy of loving you.
“Beloved, a child is the most wonderful gift you could ever give me.” Unable to find the words to express all he felt, Labren possessively tucked his wife close to his heart. He planned on spending the rest of his life savoring her sweetness and making her happy.
Muffled against his chest, Eve whispered, “I love you too.”
~~~
Epilogue
“They are here!” Three young boys tore through the front door and into the hall. The sound of their progress bounced off the ceiling two stories up. Between their repeated cries and the pounding of their feet, Eve heard them long before they skidded to a stop outside the doors leading to the back balcony.
“Ireic…came!” Turic gasped.
“Yulandra too.” A Ratharian lad named Randare danced with excitement.
“Boys.” Eve began the slow process of easing her way out of the chair. “Remember your manners.” Timoty caught her falling needlework as she rose and what little lap she had disappeared. “He is the king of Anavrea. I will be sadly disappointed if you do not show him the proper respect.”
Just because she was not longer teaching, Eve did not see it as an excuse for the children to run wild.
“We will, Madam Theodoric. We promise.” Turic reassured her as she followed them toward the stairs. Timoty scurried ahead of them to let the new arrivals know she was coming. Eve watched enviously as he slid around the corner and clopped down the stairs.
“If only I could do that again.”
Ruefully she glanced down at her blossoming stomach. Considering her small size and the fact the baby was due any day, Eve reasoned she was probably a healthy size. Regardless of these important facts, she could not help feeling awkward, heavy, and big as a boat.
“Ouch.” The child followed up his first jab with another. “You know.” Eve r
ubbed the top of her stomach. “I will not miss you kicking, little one. I am surprised I am not bruised from your abuse.”
“Are you talking to the child again?” Labren’s voice interrupted her one-sided conversation.
“Our little one is anxious to be free.” Eve greeted her husband with a smile. He appeared so much better than when they were in Ana City, the worry lines around his mouth softened and the tension gone from his movements.
“Soon,” Labren replied as he pulled her against his side and spread his large hand over hers. After a brief silence between the three of them, Isica’s glad cry came wafting up to them from the hall below.
Eve laughed.
“I think your niece has discovered her new playmates.”
“Our niece,” Labren reminded her. “Poor Yulandra.”
“Why is it ‘Poor Yulandra’?”
“The children are going to spoil Isica rotten.”
“Then let us go rescue the poor woman.” Eve put herself in motion once again. “Besides, I have a million mother questions for her.”
Labren quickly moved to regain his place at her side. Offering her his arm, he asked, “Shall we go and be good hosts?”
Placing her hand on the offered support, Eve flashed him a brilliant smile. “Lead the way, my love.”
###
About the Author
As a mother of three small children, Rachel Rossano dreams of new stories among the chaos of diapers and sippy cups. Then she writes as fast as she can during naptimes and after the little ones are tucked in for the night. She draws from a long history as an avid reader and lover of books. Usually she writes fantasy novels that masquerade as historical, but she recently spent time in the science and speculative fiction genres.
Connect with Rachel Rossano online:
Twitter: http://twitter.com/@RachelRossano
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachel-Rossanos-Rambles/240421865704
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Rossano/e/B004MV17GE
Blog: http://rachel-rossano.blogspot.com
Discover other titles by Rachel Rossano on Kindle
The Mercenary’s Marriage
http://www.amazon.com/The-Mercenarys-Marriage-ebook/dp/B005IHAU32
Exchange
http://www.amazon.com/Exchange-ebook/dp/B005PTXWDI
Continue on for previews of
Book Two – The Theodoric Saga
The King of Anavrea
And
EXCHANGE
Book Two – The Theodoric Saga
The King of Anavrea
by Rachel Rossano
Ireic Theodoric, King of Anavrea, needed a wife. His kingdom required heirs. Unwilling to entertain the possibility of love, Ireic sought a quick decision, a political alliance.
For five years, Lady Lirth Parnan prayed her father would send a champion. Ireic offered the hope of freedom, a life beyond her tower prison. Could she hope for his love as well?
The King of Anavrea
The stone walls of the tower cooled her hands in spite of the unseasonable warmth of the past week. Gratefully, Lirth leaned her forehead against the rough stone. The cold surface chilled her fevered skin.
The distant clash of metal against metal echoed in the corridor and stairwell outside the thick oak door of her room. The din grew closer and she grasped at the calm she had felt only moments before.
I realized this day would come, yet... She caught herself mid thought. She should be thankful that she could prepare. Frustration flared and she asked, Why must patience be so difficult?
The unseen Kurios did not respond. He was there and she knew He was the source of her intuition.
It is not that I am not thankful. She pointed out. Your intervention is the sole reason I have not been more battered. Instead of abusing me or using me, they isolate me.
After her abduction five summers before, Baron Tor locked Lirth away in the cold tower room and forbade his men from speaking to her. By the grace of the Kurios, he chose not to execute her or hand her over to one of his minions. She had opportunity to cherish the hope of freedom.
The clanging below ceased. A death cry echoed within the stone tower below her prison.
Realizing the sound indicated someone would be seeking her soon, she paced the distance from the wall to her cot on the opposite side of the room. Her heavy cloak caught on the corner of the single chair as she passed. She wrenched it free.
Outside the door the wooden stairs creaked and groaned. The victor climbed to claim his prize.
Lirth's hands shook. She missed when she reached for her satchel. The second swipe caught the band for strapping it to her waist. She moved back toward the chair in the center of the room, tying the leather as she walked.
The wooden bolt struck the floor outside with a clatter.
Her fingers traced the worn lip along the back of the chair, seeking the familiar scratches. She measured her breaths by a two count to keep from panic.
The door uttered a grating squeal. The dull thud of wood striking the wall and rebounding reverberated in the bare room.
I hope it hit him.
She drew back the thought. The Kurios would not send someone to harm her.
What about those that sent him?
Nothing.
“Please tell Lady Lirth I have come for her.” A warm male voice spoke above her head and about four feet in front of her.
“I am the one you seek.”
Raising her chin so she addressed his face, Lirth drew herself up.
“Am I allowed to know the name of the one who seeks me?”
The slight change in the man's breathing warned Lirth of the man's astonishment before he spoke.
“They did not tell you?” Surprise lingered in his question, along with a hint of uncertainty.
“I was told nothing.”
She heard his movement only a moment before he touched her.
“What is your full name?” Warm fingers caught her chin and gently forced her to turn. Flinching at the rough material of his gloves, Lirth closed her eyes and obeyed the man's verbal and physical commands.
“Lirth Yra Parnan, only daughter of Tridan, King of Sardmara.”
Silence descended between them. The strange man studied her. His grip on her chin was gentle, but firm when she pushed against his fingers. After she tried to move away a second time, she gave up. Waiting, she reached out with her senses to examine him in return.
He smelled of battle: blood, sweat, and dirt. Beneath these, though, she detected a waft of the soap he bathed with recently. His hands were long and lean. Although he held her face firmly, she doubted she would be tender or bruised later.
Concentrating on their brief exchange, she guessed him to be about six feet tall, maybe slightly over. He must be fit, because his breathing though accelerated was not rushed. Four flights of stairs stretched from the tower’s base to the room.
Unfortunately she could not guess at his age or features. She needed her own fingers and his permission for that.
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded calmer and quieter, tone controlled.
“Ireic Iathan Theodoric, King of Anavrea.” He paused. “Open your eyes, Lirth, and look at me.”
“I cannot obey you.”
Steeling herself for a blow, Lirth was stunned when he spoke instead.
“Why not?”
She opened her eyes to the darkness she had known most of her life.
“I am blind.”
Coming Soon
Book Two – The Theodoric Saga
The King of Anavrea
by Rachel Rossano
EXCHANGE
a short story
by Rachel Rossano
He offers her escape...
Isolated on a distant planet, she is incarcerated for a crime she doesn’t recall. She has no name, no idea where she came from, or why she is injected with drugs to hold these vital facts from her grasp. Despite small rebellions, she wastes away, worn and lo
sing hope of ever being whole again. Then he arrives. Claiming to hold the answers burned daily from her brain, he offers her a way out.
...but at what cost?
EXCHANGE -
Darkness enveloped me completely. I breathed stuffy blackness in labored pants, struggling to tolerate the closeness. Cottony, the warmth threatened to suffocate me in a billowing blanket of malevolence.
I hated when I woke early.
The sensors glued to my forehead and scalp screamed to be scratched, but the arm bands made that impossible. I mentally clawed for something to fixate on, anything other than the inching six walls trapping me.
Why they called the box a dream suite I don’t know. I never dreamed and it only barely contained me. Six by three by two feet, it was built to contain one average sized human. One of thirty stacked like drawers in one wall of the ward. I supposed I should have been thankful that I was a below-average-sized humanoid. Sometimes I managed to ignore the walls because I wasn’t constantly in contact with them, only the padded pseudo-bed beneath my back. However, no matter how I strained, I couldn’t truly believe they didn’t exist.
With a soft hiss, jets of cold air bombarded my naked feet signaling the waking time. The weight on my chest dissipated slightly in the cooler air, but in its place nagged the raw instinct to tuck my freezing feet closer to my body. I couldn’t bend my legs far enough. The knowledge degenerated into panic. Hysteria edged in just as a hum and jolt warned me to check that my eyes stayed closed.
Another whirling hum, jolt, and sucking whoosh later, piercing blue light assaulted my face as my chamber drew out of the wall into the ward. Arm restraints retracted into the sides.
“Down, female, 7682R.”
The droid’s grating mechanical voice invaded the borders of my mind, setting my teeth hard against each other. A final blast of icy air from the suite’s jets meant to encourage me to move faster did the exact opposite.
Rachel Rossano - The Theodoric Saga Page 12