CHAPTER 143: ONE HUNDRED & FORTY THREE

Evadne

I pull down the hood of my cloak as we cross the threshold of the tavern. The stench of alcohol, sweat and male pride and lies knock into me with the force to make my stomach clench.

Astrea hangs close and every time her shoulder brushes mine, a jolt shoots down my spine. She’s tired, freezing, and instinctively keeps in my shadow to take from my warmth.

Her breath catches on my cloak.

I pretend not to notice the way it curls heat into my stomach.

We’ve ridden hard these last couple of days and perhaps it’d be a better idea to take her straight home. To my home. But it was all the way across Ebonheart and I didn’t really trust Lucien to not have her shot down if we went to the castle.

Hence, the break in our journey.

It’s freezing cold outside and huddling close in a cave or against the equally freezing horses is no longer a viable option.

Roars of laughter echo off the walls and curious glances are tossed our way as we wade through the crowd of gambling men. I find my seat beside the half-drunk, red-cheeked idiot who grins at me with pearl-white teeth the second he sights me.

"Should have known you were fine," he snickers, lifting his jug of beer to me.

I settle on the bench by him, lips twitching tiredly. "You’re a long ride from home, Trent. Trouble in paradise?"

He gives me a knowing look. "Is there any time there isn’t?" Then the oaf grabs my head under his armpit and begins ruffling my hair in the most aggravating manner. "Where the fuck have you been? Luke’s been worried. Well, he’s been worried about a lot of things lately."

I push him off. "You smell like shit. How the hell does Katherine stand you?"

He snorts at the obvious lie. He smells like fresh dew. Always has. He makes a pointed stare at his general groin area. "Maybe she just likes certain part of me more than others."

I make a disgusted expression before grabbing his beer and swallowing it. His gaze finally lifts and stall on Astrea’s face from under the hood. His hand flies to his sword immediately, but I jam my foot into his. "She’s with me."

Trenton’s brow arches with concern as he looks from her exhausted face as she settles on the other side of the small table, small nose scrunching up at the beer on the table and what looks like piss on the floor. And then, his dark eyes snap back to me. He shakes his head. "I don’t even want to know."

I ignore him. "What’s wrong with Lulu?"

He suddenly bursts into roaring laughter. "He’s losing his mind, that’s for sure." His eyes shine with mirth. "Valka’s pregnant."

Delight rips out of me in a squeal loud enough to silence the tavern. Astrea stares at me with surprise, lips parted at my uncontrollable excitement. "Girl? Boy? Which is it?"

His lips twitch. "Nana says it’s too early to predict the gender but..." He leans in. "There’s more than one."

My jaw hangs open as I gasp. "That little cunt!" I laugh. "I bet he’s over the moon..."

Astrea’s expression is unreadable, but her fingers curl on the table. Her thigh brushes mine beneath the wood, accidental, maybe, but it sends a low spark through me.

I look at her stomach. Then her lips. Then her eyes.

For a moment, I forget Trenton exists.

But Trenton doesn’t notice or stop talking. "Why on earth do you think I’m here? I fled the castle because I couldn’t catch a moment’s break. He won’t stop asking questions.

"Where are they? How are they fitting in there? Why isn’t she exploding? Is this safe? Is she safe? Should I wrap her in blankets? Should I carry her everywhere? Should I eliminate gravity? Ilya had severe morning sicknesses. Is it normal she isn’t having those? Why do I feel queasy all the time, instead? Is it normal to be jealous of your children. I know it’s irrational. I know they’re babies. I don’t care. That’s my space. What if she stops giving me attention and gives them all of her affection?"

Trent scowls. "And then, he began to stomp. Called off all his meetings. Told the King of Voss to go fuck himself because he was too busy to discuss a truce. Too busy finding new ways to ensure his wife stays in love with him."

He takes another swig of his jug and casts me a dark look. "I fear my sanity is in danger. When are you returning? I can’t deal with this alone."

I flash him a rueful smile. "I’ll think about it." I stare at his pouch and blink prettily at him. "You don’t happen to have some gold to spare, do you?" His eyes narrow suspiciously. "I need a room for the night. Be a wonderful friend and help me get one. I’ll pay you back--"

"You never pay back," he grumbles but stands anyway, sauntering over to the tavern’s keeper.

"Have you thought about what you wish to do after?" I pose the question to Astrea. She’s been quiet for days and I can almost hear her brain rackling in that pretty head of hers. "It’s a hard world out there to raise a child alone."

You could come live with me, I don’t say. Because I don’t think she wants that. I don’t think she knows what she wants, and that’s a dangerous place to be.

I know what I want with my life. I want to enjoy the privileges that come with being royal for the rest of my life. I want to be the godmother of Lucien’s children, but I do not want children of my own. I do not want a mate or a spouse, either. I do not think myself stable enough for long term commitments. Or maybe I’ve just never considered it.

I’ve lived most of my life alone a Kaldrith. Most of my family is scattered across the seas, having never been bound by rules of society or court or walls. My side of the family prefers to walk naked or in their Lycan forms, so you’d much easier find a Kaldrith in a castle closest to the depths of the forests than near ’civilization’.

And gods do we love being crude.

With Astrea, I do not know what I want. I want her to kiss me again. I want her hands on my skin. I want to recreate that moment where she stabs me again. It’s sick, I know, but it’s the closest I’ve let anyone. And maybe it’s even sicker that I didn’t even try to escape until he’d nearly hurt her. Because I wanted to stay close. Because I’m a sick lonely fuck.

And I’ve been lonely for a long time.

Her fingers curl in front of her. "I have an uncle in Averis. I’ll write to him. I’m sure he’ll take me in." She catches her lips between her teeth in a nervous tic. "Eva, I... What happened in the cell... It wasn’t... I’m not..." She seems to steel herself. "I’m not like that."

My brows furrow. "Not like what?"

Her cheeks flush a deep, warm rose that climbs to her ears.

"I... I like men," she murmurs, eyes flicking everywhere except my mouth. "I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you thinking--"

"What, that you wanted me?" I ask softly.

Her breath stutters. There’s fear there, but not of me. Of herself.

The tavern noise fades. For half a heartbeat, neither of us moves.

"I understand," I tell her, though the disappointment curls in my gut like smoke. "Write to your uncle tomorrow. We’ll stay until you hear back from him."

She suddenly reaches across the table, warm fingertips brushing mine, soft, unsure, lingering longer than necessary. "Eva, I do--"

Trenton returns with a tray.

Astrea snatches her hand back so fast you’d think my skin burned her. Her eyes avoid mine and she inches back, pretending like I’m not there, like I am something she is ashamed of. Reading the tension in the air, Trenton asks, "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," I say. "Absolutely nothing."

***

Valka

Lucien’s panicking.

He has been since he learned there were three babies bouncing inside my belly. I’m not sure what he expects me to do when he keeps tugging at his hair and glaring at my stomach. You would think this was his first drill at fatherhood.

"Okay," I snap, rolling out of bed. "What is your problem?"

He pauses where his fingers are stroking his chin. And then he blows air out of his cheeks like an infant. And then he walks around to his side of his bed and sulks like a child and grumbles, "Nothing."

I grab the pillow and whack him in the back of the head with it.

He growls and says nothing, still.

First, I think he’s just being a jerk. Then the next day, I wake up to his ear pressed against my stomach, his fingers tickling my side. And I swear he giggles lightly with mischief like he hears something I don’t.

The entire castle loses its collective mind. Actually, no. Ebonheart loses its mind. First come the gifts: mountains of farm produce, piles of animal hides, jars of milk, herbs I swear are illegal, "fertility charms" that look suspiciously cursed... and then a still-bleeding lamb heart. Because why not.

Then the women attack me. I cannot bend. I cannot stretch. I cannot fucking exist in peace. I am force-fed things no sane person should classify as food. The raw meat is bad enough, but the lamb heart? Unforgivable. And I’m ninety percent sure the "morning tonic" Lucien’s grandmother gives me is blood with spice.

"You must," Margot chides when I gag. "You have an entire line, a new generation of Draemonts in your stomach. You must be strong!"

I swear they’re making shit up at this point. And when I refuse, they look at me like I am crazy.

But then the strangest thing happens once my body finally decides it’s healthy enough for traditional pregnancy symptoms, like morning sickness.

And you’re not going to believe this. Truly.

I’m not the one experiencing it.

Lucien is.

Every morning, like clockwork, my terrifying, blood-drenched, feared-across-realms mate wakes up miserable, puking, shivering, groaning like he’s dying a slow, poetic death.

And when I laugh at him because I can’t help it, he turns his head slowly, offended by the betrayal of biology, glares at my stomach with mock rage, and mutters, "I suppose this is my fault, after all."