“And did you decide to fight for Tor?” Alanna asked as Lucilla dipped her chin in understanding.
Keely bit her lip. “I… yes. I asked him to come north with us to Verturia. To give us a chance to figure out what we were to each other.”
“And he said…?” Alanna prompted.
“He said that he missed me, that he wanted to be with me, and he wanted to come, but that he had responsibilities here. That he needed more time to figure everything out.”
Lucilla choked. “More time? More than he’s already had?”
Yes. That was what she needed to hear. Someone to tell her she wasn’t being unreasonable. That she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Keely shrugged again, but this time her shoulders felt a little looser.
“Gods.” Lucilla folded her arms, face twisted into a dark glare. “I think I should dismiss him from the palace guards, that will give him time to think—”
“No. Please, Lucilla, that would just make it worse. He’s genuinely struggling—you should have seen him, he looked so lost. He’s miserable too.” Keely spoke slowly, sorting through her thoughts. “I suspect that, deep inside him, he still wants to get back to the time when the world made sense. And I understand that; I really do.”
She glanced at Alanna, knowing her friend would remember. “I stayed on the farm for nearly a year thinking that there might have been some kind of mistake and Niall would be coming back. That he would look for me there. It took my father’s death and Mama moving to Duneidyn before I could accept that he was gone.”
Alanna frowned. “But this is different. Tor’s parents looked him right in the face and disowned him.”
Keely shook her head. Grief was never logical.
“But what about when the—” Lucilla started, only to swallow her words as Alanna cleared her throat loudly, cutting her off midsentence.
Keely turned to look at her best friend; at her wide eyes and determined glare. And then she turned back to Lucilla, noting the deep red flush climbing up her throat. Lucilla gave Alanna a sheepish look before quickly looking away. Damn.
“You know!” Keely whispered raggedly.
Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears as her palms grew clammy. Her stomach heaved, and she fought it down. Fought back the rising bile and the aching spasm in her throat. That awful nausea that had become her constant companion. They knew. When she hardly even knew it herself.
Did everyone know? Did Tor know? No. He couldn’t. He would have said something.
In seconds, Alanna was out of her chair and wiping Keely’s hair back from her eyes, using her sleeve to dab at the drops of perspiration on Keely’s forehead, her other hand settling in a reassuring weight on her shoulder. “Do you need a pot?”
Keely shook her head helplessly as Alanna wrapped her arms around her once more, holding her tightly. “Oh, Keely, my friend. We’re here for you. Whatever you need. You know that, don’t you?”
And then the tears came. The tears she had held back all through her conversation with Tor—even when he’d left and she was truly alone—burning her eyes and her throat as she sobbed. She rested her head on Alanna’s shoulder and wept.
She let herself go completely, let herself fill with grief and loss and fear and the still-churning nausea. For the first time in years, she let her friend comfort her. Let herself lean on someone else.
Eventually, her sobs quietened and Alanna led her to the bed and settled her, propped up on pillows against the headboard, a soft woolen blanket over her knees like a child. Lucilla passed her a cup of water, and she took a small sip as the need to be sick faded. She wasn’t going to hurl, thank the Bard. But she still had tears leaking down the sides of her face.
“I keep crying,” Keely admitted, swiping at her face with her palms. “It’s bloody annoying.”
Alanna chuckled and took her hand gently as she settled onto the bed beside her. “That’s normal, I think.”
“Nim’s going to put a basket together for you,” Lucilla said from the bottom of the bed. “She’s putting ginger root in it for tea, and ginger cookies for snacks, for you to take with you when you head north. She said it might help with the nausea.”
Keely blinked. “How long have you known?”
“Only the last few days,” Alanna admitted. “We thought you were still struggling with seasickness and whatever happened between you and Tor. But then you left dinner early one day, and Nim realized it was when they served the herring in—” Alanna noticed Keely’s heavy swallow and stopped speaking.
“We wanted to give you a chance to tell us,” Lucilla admitted quietly, “but we started to wonder if you would. Mostly we just want to help.”
Keely’s eyes burned. They wanted to help, but she didn’t quite know how to take it.
“What did Tor say about the baby?” Alanna asked softly. “When you spoke to him earlier.”
Her throat ached as she replied. “I didn’t tell him…. I was going to, but then he started talking about how he was needed here, not with me, and I….” She took a trembling breath. All she’d been able to think about was how she was begging another man to choose her—and failing.
