Randa watched the very big, very blond knight lean over her daughter, his features full of grief.
“She came to us earlier,” she said, wiping at her tearful eyes. “She wanted to speak with my father. Did you know she was coming?”
Creston was stroking Ophelia’s face, lifting an eyelid to see if her pupils were reacting to the light. “Nay,” he said. “I did not even know she had left.”
“But you know why?”
He sighed heavily, the very air around him infused with pain. “I know,” he said. “I know why.”
Randa watched him as he touched her daughter. She could see, just in those first few moments, that this was no ordinary relationship.
Something special had happened between them.
“Then you should know that she and my father had words,” she said. “Terrible words. She told him that Blackchurch knew of his attempt to betray them to the king. She tried to force him to… stop, I suppose. Retreat. She said that you were her family and that she loved you, and she cursed him for trying to ruin her happiness.”
Creston couldn’t help it. His eyes filled with tears. “She came to fight him alone,” he whispered tightly. “Please tell me she did not physically fight him.”
“Nay,” Randa said, noting that more men were entering the chamber now. Very big men that she’d seen at her daughter’s wedding, men who were part of Blackchurch. “She did not physically fight him, but he tried to capture her. She ran from him and fell down a flight of stairs.”
Creston looked at her in horror. “Oh, God,” he breathed. “Is that the accident I was told of?”
“It is.”
“What of the child?”
“I believe that he is dead, my lord.”
The man at the end of the bed spoke up. When he saw Creston looking at him in shock, he stepped forward to explain himself.
“My name is Kerne,” he said. “I am the physic in town. Lady de Camville summoned me to tend her daughter and I am sorry to say that I believe the child is dead. I cannot feel any movement and there has been a great deal of blood.”
Creston was hit with a wave of grief. “And my wife?” He could barely speak. “Will she die?”
“I do not believe so,” he said. “But she is bleeding. Her body is trying to expel the child, so we must let it.”
“She is laboring?”
“She is.”
Creston had to catch his breath. He closed his eyes tightly and sat heavily on the chair that Randa had been sitting on. Leaning forward on the mattress, he put his face in his hands, struggling not to come apart. Collapsing wouldn’t help Ophelia, so he wouldn’t do it. He had to be strong for her, for them both, because they were facing something unimaginably awful.
“Has she been awake at all?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse. “Does she know about the child?”
The physic shook his head. “She has not awakened,” he said. “She struck her head when she fell, so we must be patient.”
“But you do believe she will awaken?”
“I do,” the physic said. “Her eyes are normal and her breathing is even, so there is no indication that she has done anything more than knock herself unconscious. But I do believe she has broken her right arm in the fall and mayhap a rib or two.”
Creston closed his eyes at the diagnosis. It could have been so much worse, so if Ophelia only had a few broken bones, they would heal. But the loss of a child was something altogether different. Other than Ophelia’s death, it was the worst thing he could have imagined.
He was gutted.
Standing up, he turned around to see Tay, Fox, and Cruz behind him, each man with expressions of grief and sympathy. His friends. His dear, dear friends, now witnessing this terrible moment with him.
He was glad they were here.
“Tay,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion, “bring Ming Tang here. He has a knowledge of healing. I want him to look at Lia.”
