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“Of course I am,” she said staunchly. “Just a big kick, that’s all. Nothing to—oof.”

“I don’t think those are kicks,” said the duchess grimly. “I think someone else has an opinion about whether it’s too late to travel, and he or she is letting us know that the answer is decidedly yes.”

“What do you…” Laura trailed off, her eyes widening as she took her mother’s meaning. “No. The baby can’t be coming yet! I should still have weeks.”

“Babies don’t work to physicians’ schedules, love,” said her mother with a smile. Her voice turned suddenly brisk. “Speaking of which, we’ll call our physician. And we’ll prepare the downstairs bedroom.”

Everything seemed to progress rapidly after that. Every female in the manor bustled around with apparently lots to do, while Heath and Percival hovered with Edmund, at a loss for how to be helpful. Less than an hour had passed since breakfast when Heath tentatively stuck his head through the door of the downstairs bedroom.

“Is there anything you need that we can—?”

“OUT!” His normally sweet-natured sister had never spoken to him in that voice, of that he was certain. “I don’t want either of my brothers in the building!”

Neither Heath nor Percival had to be told twice.

“Tough luck, Edmund,” Percival told his brother-in-law sympathetically as they hurried out the front door. “No escape for you.”

Edmund barely seemed to hear him, his eyes wide and his posture tense as he nodded his farewell to the two brothers. Heath and Percival walked slowly across the courtyard, temporarily allied by the family circumstances.

“Do you think she’ll be all right?” Percival asked.

Heath nodded. “Surely. Mother and Father’s physician treats the king himself. He’s the best in Valoria.”

Percival still looked troubled, but neither of them said anything further.

“Should we…go for a walk?” Heath asked vaguely.

Percival seemed to come back to reality. “I think I’ll go to the training yard,” he said gruffly. “Take my mind off things.”

Heath was equal measures disappointed and relieved that his brother didn’t want to spend the possibly long wait together. As soon as Percival disappeared, Heath struck out in a different direction altogether, already calling Reka in an undertone. This was a better opportunity than he’d had in weeks.

By the time he reached the now-familiar hillside, Reka was waiting.

“Why do you project tension?” the dragon asked curiously.

“Do I?” Heath gave a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. My sister is having her baby right now, and I’m a little worried.”

“No need to apologize,” said Reka comfortably. “It is not an unmanageably unpleasant taste.”

Heath looked up, confused, but Reka was still speaking.

“Why are you worried about your sister having her baby? Do you fear the child will be unlikable?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…let’s talk about something else,” Heath said firmly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, actually.”

Reka waited silently, watching Heath out of unblinking yellow orbs.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly happened the day we saved Percival,” Heath pushed on. “Did you get a close look at the men who attacked him?”

“Not especially close,” Reka said. “They were of no particular interest to me. I remember noting that they smelled pungent for their kind.”

Heath frowned. Not what he would expect of the king’s elite guard. More like the bandits they appeared at first glance to be.

“Would you recognize them again if you saw them?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Reka acknowledged without regret.

“Do you remember that I thought I sensed power from them?” Heath pressed.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy