Torion shook his head, grinning now. "I've no idea! But I think they might know, and Niall said Ronson and Mairwen would come here soon and explain it all. She haswings, Brigid!"
"Where on earth did they come from?" I asked, sitting up, racking my own memory, as if I might suddenly recall seeing the woman with wings during her visit. As if such an unheard of sight might've somehow slipped my notice.
Torion shrugged, laughing again. "I can't blame Ronson for carrying her off once he had her back out of her dragon's shape. I'd have done the same with you if you'd flown into battle for me. But I'm… My head is reeling. It won't settle until they come and tell us what happened, I think."
"A dragon?" I repeated stupidly, just in case his answer might change to something sensible.
Torion rose from the bed and proceeded to pace, describing Mairwen's dragon—Mairwen'sdragon—in detail. To imagine the gentle woman as a dragon at all was a challenge, but the vision Torion painted, in brilliant shades of copper and rust and turquoise, not to mention the size of her talons and spikes measured in a wide span of Torion's hands, made the whole story even more impossible to believe.
As I sat watching him, I realized I hadn't yet mentioned my spotting or how scared I'd been. I didn't know if it was that weight in my mind, or the fact that it was some hour of the night or pre-dawn and I was still groggy with sleep, but I couldn't grasp at Torion's excitement in the wake of this news. A female dragon was certainly some kind of marvel, but I wasn't sure how it would be accepted widely.
"Would you like to fly?" Torion asked, slightly breathless at the conclusion of his story.
"Now?" I glanced out the window into the dark, frowning slightly.
Torion grinned and threw himself back down onto the bed on his side. "No, I mean if it was possible for you to be a dragon like Mairwen, would you like that? To be able to fly?"
"No."
Torion's eyes widened, and I pressed my lips flat. He propped his head up on his hands. "Really? I thought you liked flying."
"I—" I shook my head and fell back to the bed, rolling to face him on my side. "I do like flying. And if my suddenly being able to transform into a dragon was only a simple matter of doing just that, I would enjoy flying on my own. But, Torion, this is going to…create a rather large commotion for Bleake Isle. At the very least. Possibly forallof dragonkin."
I expected that Torion might be struck by the words, grow thoughtful. I almost felt bad for poking a hole into his balloon of excitement. Instead, he just smiled softly.
"You take on such worries, little witch," he said, reaching for me, pressing a kiss into my forehead.
"You don't think it's true?" I asked, a little tartly.
"I know it's true. You're always right. If it's possible for our women to have their own dragons, the betas are sure to resist the change. I just can't help but consider the ways it might improve matters for omegas, after that resistance has been dealtwith." Torion brushed my hair back and looked me over, smile stretching wide again. "I think wings would suit you."
The only response I could think of was a kiss, and with Torion returned to me, it was far too easy to fall back asleep.
There was more spottingthe next day, and if I found Torion's resulting panic somewhat gratifying, no one but I needed to know. If there was also a brief, half-hearted wrestling match to keep him charging out of the bedroom in search of a doctor—he was too concerned for me to really fight back—that was our business too. In the end, we made our bargain.
He would go fetch a doctordiscreetly, whom I would meet with in my office. We wouldn't be able to keep the secret of my pregnancy for very long in the keep. Servants were far cannier than most dragonkin gave them credit for. But I wanted to wait at least until my quickening, when I was first able to feel the flutters of life, before we made any official announcement. I hadn't gotten to experience that my first time, and it seemed as if it might be a marker, a moment where I could start to enjoy the idea of being pregnant, instead of only clinging nervously to the hope it presented.
"I'm less concerned with the little bit of blood than I am your age, Madame," Doctor Thistlethwaite said, glancing down at his watch rather than meeting my eye.
I pursed my lips, already prepared to hear as much, but Torion let out a brief snarl. "She's not yet thirty-five. She's hardly in her dotage." His hands rested on my shoulder, standing behind me as I sat on the bench in my new office, mulling over the irony of being its first patient.
"And yet most women come to their first rut more than a decade prior to her. Young women's bodies are more…flexible, able to bear the growth and change that comes with a dragon brewing inside of their bodies. The more they age, the more their body fixes itself into position."
I stiffened in my seat, offended and worried over the words, but Torion scoffed loudly.
"That's absolute rot," Torion said.
"Torion," I murmured, worried he might go too far in speaking against the doctor.
I wasn't sure I was convinced by Thistlethwaite's claim either, but I knew better than to offend the man who might become responsible for my care.
"I understand your disappointment, my lord, but it would be best for us to begin planning to preserve the heir's life now, in case of any…later concerns," Thistlethwaite said.
My eyes closed and I took a shuddering breath, my hand rising from its limp resting place on my lap to cover my lower stomach in reflex. It would be a cruel fate to bring a child into the world I never got the chance to meet, but I already felt those stirrings of love, found the clock hands spinning too fast as I spent an hour dreaming of the child.
Torion's hands tightened briefly on my shoulders before releasing me, and he moved around the bench, catching the doctor by the shoulder and drawing him quickly away from me.
"Come speak to me in the hall a moment," Torion said, his voice thick with what I suspected was a barely restrained growl.
