Her pulse is fast but steady. Strong. Not thready or weak.
That’s good.
I ask her a few more questions—how far along she is, whether she’s had any vision changes, swelling, pain.
She answers each one clearly, no hesitation.
“Mind if I check your ankles?” I ask.
“By all means,” she laughs. “They’re not my best feature at the moment.”
I press gently against the skin, checking for edema.
There’s some swelling, but not terrifyingly so.
Her breathing is easy. No wheeze. No chest pain reported. I take her blood pressure with my fingers the old-school way—feeling the pulse change as I compress her artery.
Crude, but better than nothing.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “I’m not a primary doctor or an OBGYN, obviously. But where we come from, this combo of symptoms can sometimes mean you need to watch your blood pressure, measuring salt intake and making sure you’re hydrated. It could be nothing. Could be your body saying maybe slow down and stop trying to run a whole Dragon Lord’s household by yourself.”
She snorts. “Rude, but fair.”
“We’ll want to loop in your healers,” I add. “See what their equivalent of lab work and monitoring is. But the fact that you’re not short of breath, not in pain, and that baby’s still rolling around?—”
“Like he’s trying to stage a coup,” she mutters.
“—is all good. You did the right thing calling for backup this early. We’re catching this before you’re collapsing in some hallway.”
Her eyes soften. “You really think it’s not, um, catastrophic?”
“From what I can see?” I say honestly. “Your body is doing what it needs to. But you could use some rest and a minor dietary change. No, it’s not a death sentence. We’ll keep an eye on it. Make a plan. Adjust what you’re eating, how often you’re resting. Maybe get you some healers who actually listen when you say something feels off.”
Emotion flickers across her face, quick and sharp.
“Ooh, I like you,” she says abruptly. “We’re keeping you.”
My throat gets oddly tight.
“Guess that works out, because Thorne sort of said he was keeping me already.”
She grins. “Yeah. Alaric said he went all ‘mine, mine, mine’ the second he brought you over. Big, scary Two-Face finally wrapped around some woman’s little finger. It’s adorable.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t worry,” she adds, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “Thorne’s a relentless pain in the ass, but he’s loyal as hell. If he’s claiming you, it’s for real.”
My chest squeezes.
“I’m certainly starting to think so,” I admit.
Before she can reply, there’s a light knock at the door.
“Come in,” Jules calls.
The door opens—and a blonde woman with sea-glass eyes and soft curves steps in, cloak still damp from the mist outside. There’s a faint scent of saltwater and something bright and citrusy when she smiles.
