“Enough,” says Marken, though he directs his statement more to Casper, whose mouth is open with a retort, than to me. “We’ll await news from my son before we come to hasty conclusions regarding another kingdom’s monarch.”
And to think everyone else believes Marken actually listens to me.
“There’s another matter to discuss, of course,” says Casper, looking about the table at the other advisors, who are all nodding their heads.
I suppose this means there was a pre-meeting meeting I wasn’t invited to.
Marken sighs. “And that is?”
“What should be done in the event the Heir of Dwellen does not return.”
Casper has the gall to fake sobriety as he discusses the possibility of my husband’s death.
I know Casper is goading me, but for once, I let it go without rebuke. My stomach flips over inside me at the idea that something has happened to Evander. It’s a place I haven’t allowed my mind to go, not with everything else I’ve been processing.
If Marken is upset by the idea that harm might have befallen his son, he doesn’t show it. He simply says, as if we’re discussing this morning’s breakfast, “You are aware that, in the event that Evander perishes with no legitimate heir of his own, the throne would go to you, Casper.”
And with the way Casper’s eely gaze slips over to meet mine, I have the sneaking suspicion Casper is already aware of this.
I spend the afternoon with my face buried in Evander’s pillow, chasing my racing thoughts around, trying to contain them. Before today I’ve been successful in keeping my mind from wandering down the path of worst-case scenarios, but Casper’s comment in the meeting sent me over the edge.
Not that the meetings ever leave me with an overwhelming urge to skip around whistling or anything. I never feel that I handle the jeering comments well. If I ignore their jabs, I worry I seem weak. If I refuse to tolerate their unflattering comments about Evander, I worry they’ll see Evander as weak.
I’m so overwhelmed that I completely forget that my mother was supposed to stop by for a visit. Of course, when Imogen brings her to my room and they find me crying, having lost my battle to remain dry-eyed, my mother sits on the bed with me and listens as I explain the events of today’s meeting through a series of sniffles.
She, of course, reassures me that I’m doing just fine. But she always thinks that.
“You know, we women have power,” she says once my tears have mostly subsided.
“It doesn’t always feel like it,” I say. “I can’t exactly make them have any respect for Evander.”
My mother smiles softly. “I’m sure they respect him more than you think.”
I scoff. “If you heard the awful things they say, you wouldn’t be claiming that.”
My mother quirks a brow. “Is that so? Just last week I happened to visit the tailor’s just as Casper Thornwall’s wife was leaving. You wouldn’t believe the unflattering things she had to say about her husband. The male was the mockery of the entire shop by the time she was through.”
“I would have something to say too if I was unfortunate enough to be married to Casper Thornwall,” I say, even the thought making me want to gag. I cringe in an attempt to rid myself of the notion.
“But you’re not married to Casper. You’re married to Evander. If Casper Thornwall’s wife had the influence you do, what do you imagine she would do with it?”
A wicked smile curves across my lips. “Entertain the rest of us with a litany of Casper’s worst qualities, I would hope.” It makes my heart lighter just thinking about it.
“Yes, and I imagine Casper knows just that.”
I shift on the bed to face her. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that Casper sees you, and he sees how you talk about Evander, and he knows he could never trust his wife in the company of the king’s advisors like Evander trusts you. Respect is a funny thing. We tend to give it to people who already receive it from others, whether they’ve earned it or not. Sometimes, respect from the majority grows or withers from the esteem, or lack thereof, of those closest to them.”
I roll her words around in my mind, picking them apart and trying to decide if I agree or not. “Casper doesn’t want his wife around the other advisors because Casper deserves everything his wife says about him. Besides, what you’re describing isn’t exactly respect,” I grumble.
“No,” my mother says, “but it is jealousy. Which is pretty close, if you ask me.”
I join Asha and Fin in the library later that day. They have a tendency to huddle together, whispering. What they’re researching, I have no idea, but I don’t press them about it.
Besides, I’m a tad too concerned with scrounging for information to be all that concerned with what they’re up to.
I’m going to have a baby.
A baby.
Evander’s baby. A half-fae, half-human little baby.
There’s a deplorable lack of information out there regarding what one should expect in my situation.
Oh, sure. There are plenty of books in the library about fae pregnancies, most of them focusing on how to increase the chances of procreating, given success tends to be elusive for the fae.
Apparently not for me.
That’s fine. Evander and I already knew we wanted children. I just didn’t expect it to happen this quickly. Not with how difficult everyone made it out to be for fae to reproduce.
We decided from the beginning we wouldn’t do anything to prevent it, for a variety of reasons. It took my parents a decade of trying to have me, and I share my mother’s menstrual irregularities. That, paired with the fae’s general difficulty procreating, caused us to determine that sooner than later was the best time to, if not try, then at least not not try.
Well, not not trying appears to have been effective.
Unfortunately, even the books that discuss fae gestation aren’t helpful. Apparently, gestation for the fae is slightly shorter than for humans, though it varies significantly depending on the pregnancy.
Again, not that helpful to me, considering I’m human.
