“You are well?” he asked once they were inside.
“Well enough, thank you. And you?”
“I am fine. I was troubled to learn of yesterday’s events at the lodge.”
“It is fine. I was well protected. I have you to thank for that,” she said, subtly turning his attention away from the true hero of the evening. Better to have him think of himself as the hero.
“Hmm.” The singular noise was his only response.
Lenora suppressed a sigh. It seemed the weeks of being apart had made no effect on him at all. She wondered if there was anything in the world that would bring them closer together, then reminded herself that it was probably a good thing to be so distant.
He reached the door to one of the drawing rooms and dropped her hand from his arm, clasping her hand to his chest. He hesitated, looking at her with sadness in his eyes—eyes that seemed dark with deeper bags beneath them than he’d ever had before. Had he been struggling to sleep?
“What’s wrong?” she asked when he hadn’t said anything for a while.
“I have been unfair to you. I would like to correct that mistake, especially now that I have you back.” He lifted her hand, kissed it softly, then swung the door open.
Inside, she saw her mother, father, and brothers, all gathered around and waiting expectantly. Her mother came rushing up to embrace her. Lenora cried like a child. She wouldn’t have expected such a reaction, but it was such a kind and sentimental gesture, and after months of stress and turmoil it was precisely what she needed.
She wept for hours and sat talking to them, listening to the updates in their lives, all the things she’d missed. Averys had subtly left them alone. He probably wasn’t interested in listening to the dull details of their lives. When the attention had turned to Lenora, her heart ached. She longed to tell her mother the truth about the baby in her belly. She needed to ask her father’s advice in the whole affair, and her brothers would probably laugh at her audacity and then share their own exploits with everyone, trying to compete for attention. Instead, she simply fielded the questions with vague answers and small lies.
By the time they left, she was too exhausted to eat and headed straight to the bedroom. She found Averys sitting on the bed, a pile of paperwork stacked up on their bedside table and more spread across their dresser. He was writing a letter, the page propped up on his knee, an unturned book beneath it. He barely even noticed her enter the room.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the mess in the bedroom.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“No, you have not,” he said without looking up from the page.
She chewed on her lip and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can’t you get someone to help you with all this?”
“Who do you suggest?”
“I could help.”
That elicited a reaction. He lifted his eyes and planted her with an intense stare. “That would require me granting you powers beyond those of a Consort.”
“It was just a suggestion. This seems a bit much.” She waved a hand to indicate the mass of paperwork which she could now see also strewn in corners of the bedroom.
“I shall consider it after the child is born. You are getting bigger. Your efforts should be concentrated on your health.”
“You’re right. In the meantime, is all this really necessary?”
“Running an Empire is not as glamourous as people presume it to be.”
When he didn’t expand on his answer and continued writing the letter, she glanced at the nearest pile. The paper on top had the military seal stamped on it, that of a sword stabbing a rock, and pinned to the top page was a note written in even worse spider-scrawl handwriting than Averys’. It read:
These are the orders for the 156th infantry. I recommend we disband the regiment and create two new groups, doubling each in size. Men will be drawn from the eastern shore if you issue a pay raise to new recruits in the new regiments.
—Barentyn
She frowned down at the note. She hadn’t seen Barentyn all day and was quite happy about that in principle. As she looked around at pile after pile, the familiar stamp appeared more frequently than most, along with pinned notes holding subtle instructions on each. She supposed the Commander of the Armies should be qualified to advise the Emperor in military matters, but there was something about the frequency of the notes and the tone in which they were written that made her feel uncomfortable.
“You can sleep in a different room if the mess disturbs you.”
“Easier to move the wife than clean up the mess?”
The small teasing elicited another short glare. He was certainly not in a joking mood. “I’ve had a bed put in the adjacent room.”
“All right, if that’s what you want.” She stood, walked up to him, and planted a soft kiss on his forehead before heading towards the door.
“Lenora,” he called, and she turned.
“Yes?”
“I’m told Nathanial was the one to find Lusk in your room at the lodge.”
“Yes.” A lump formed in the back of her throat.
“In that case, I am pleased I sent him with you.”
She gave him a smile and left, breathing a sigh of relief.
The following days and weeks settled down. She had regular visits from the Colonel, acting as the ultimate professional in all instances. Nathanial had slipped a note in her room to say he was being sent on a mission and did not know when he would return. Averys was so busy with paperwork that she hardly saw him, and that suited her just fine. As much as she would have liked to engage in some amorous exercise with either one of them, the pregnancy took its toll and made her exhausted and light headed all day long. Even a gentle round of masturbating would leave her requiring a nap.
Eventually, she grew so large she couldn’t see her feet.
Lenora woke one night in agony, her back and stomach aching in a way she couldn’t describe. She rolled over and crawled to the door, the slightest movement sending ribbons of pain up and down her body. Eventually, she reached the adjacent bedroom, found her way to the bed, and tapped Averys on the shoulder as she hauled herself up beside him. He responded with a grunt.
“I think the baby is coming,” she half-whispered through gulps of air. That got his attention.
He sat bolt upright and ran out the door, scuttling down the corridor nude. Lenora swore, rolled onto her back again, and lay staring up at the ceiling, trying yet failing to ignore the pain. Moments later, Colonel Morsh appeared with a few other female staff, armed with buckets and blankets and other items Lenora couldn’t see because she was too busy trying to stop herself from screaming.
Minutes turned to long, hard hours. Averys hadn’t returned. Between the excruciating pain of contractions, she tried to cheer herself up by imagining him pacing the corridors nude, his hairy butt stomping up and down impatiently. The vision didn’t go as far as she’d have liked to ease the pain. The huge bulge in her stomach reached up so far that she couldn’t see the Colonel when he was down below, doing…whatever it was he was doing. She supposed it was a good thing she couldn’t see him; it was embarrassing enough having him there at all.
“It’ll be time to push soon,” he called up to her, popping up just enough to meet her eyes before he disappeared back down below the line of her belly bump.
She opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut again as the pain and pressure built up once more.
Hours of pushing followed. The light worked around the edges of the curtain, seeping into the bedroom, her screams fading into static. By the time it was over, she hardly noticed, being so consumed by exhaustion and pain. It wasn’t until the room filled with a different screaming noise that she realised what had happened. A bundle was stuffed into her arms by one of the women, the babe inside having been washed and wrapped in soft towelling.
Lenora shook from head to toe. Tears streamed down her face, and the bundle in her arms
quietly squawked. A tiny hand emerged from the bundle, reaching up to her face, and she bent forward to kiss it. Between the rolls of towelling she saw a scrunched up little face, skin mottled with pink and red, and she wept like a child as her heart filled with relief and love.
“Congratulations,” the Colonel said as he stood, pulling the bedsheet over her legs to give her a measure of dignity. He, too, looked exhausted, sweat lining his brow. She supposed the pressure of the birth had been intense for him also; if the child hadn’t lived, perhaps he would have been blamed. She only managed a weak smile in return.
“The wet nurse will feed her. Get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.”
“Her?”
“It’s a girl.”
Her world tumbled down around her shoulders. She didn’t notice the Colonel leaving. The women set about cleaning the bedsheets, cleaning her legs and body. Someone took the child from her arms. She didn’t flinch. It was as though her soul had risen up above the bed and she now looked down on her broken, battered self, unable to move or think clearly.
Everything she’d been through, all the pain and suffering and stress, the relief of knowing she was safe once pregnant, and the softening of Averys’ attitude towards her came crashing down. Give me a son. Her eyes fluttered closed. It would not be good enough, she already knew. She could imagine the Colonel delivering the news and could almost see the expression on Averys’ face as his eyebrows drew down into a disapproving scowl. A future Empress was not what he had requested—was not what she was supposed to provide.
Even the thought of spending time with Nathanial again in the hopes of producing a second child did nothing to settle her aching brain. She lay back on the bed, head sinking into the pillow, eyes closed. She didn’t sleep; her mind remained alert, too busy racing. Her head felt like someone jabbed burning brands into her forehead, through her skull, and right into her mind.
“There you are, Ma’am.” A busty woman appeared at the side of the bed. “She’s all fed and clean and sleeping. Best if you give her a cuddle for a bit. Good for mother and child to bond, though I know it’s not what you high-society types like to do. It’ll cheer you up a bit, too.” The wet nurse left the room.
Lenora rolled onto her side and looked at the bundle on the bed, sleeping where Averys usually slept. She took three deep breaths. She could do this, do it all again. She could be strong, if not for herself then for her child. Suddenly, her world had become more complicated and fraught with danger than ever before, but it served to bolster her determination. She would give the Emperor a son, by any means necessary.
The baby let out a long sigh and wriggled, the towelling falling away from her head. Lenora stared down at her daughter with terror in her heart.
She had red hair.
TO BE CONTINUED…
About The Author
E.C. Jarvis is a British author working mainly in the Fantasy and Speculative Fiction genres. For most of her working life, Jarvis has been working her way through the ranks of the accountancy profession in various industries. At the same time, she has also been writing.
“It was always a hobby. I’d knock a poem out every now and then, or enter something into a short story competition with very little success, but that never stopped me. There has always been an underlying need to write. It comes and goes with varying intensity, but it’s always there, like an itch that needs to be scratched.”
Her first success at publishing was a poem in a collection titled ‘Fear Itself’ and published by Forward Poetry in 2012. Following a three-year hiatus where she “couldn’t even bring herself to write a shopping list”, 2015 saw her complete three full novels, gain one publishing contract, win a number of online writing competitions, and put her on track to complete her first series.
She was born in Surrey, England in 1982. She now resides in Hampshire, England with her daughter and husband.
Find out more at:
www.ecjarvis.com
www.facebook.com/E.C.JarvisAuthor
https://twitter.com/EC_Jarvis
Desire and Duty (The Consort's Chronicles Book 1) Page 17