Caris put the honey down, and sprinkled nuts from a jar.
“I’ll pour the cream,” Satia said. Caris bowed her head and put the tray on Satia’s bulging stomach, propped with pillows on both sides. She stood close, with clean napkins, just in case.
“Question Captain Ussin when he returns.” Satia swirled her spoon in the grains, mixing it with just a dab of cream. “I want to know how she reacted.”
“Of course, Bonded,” Avice replied.
Satia put the spoon in her mouth and closed her eyes in pleasure. Her contentment radiated down Caris’s bond. Perhaps today would be a good day after all.
She glanced around the room, careful not to let Satia see that her focus was elsewhere. The fire was crackling in the hearth with just the right amount of heat. Nora and Mira were putting the Bonded’s clean clothes in the wardrobe, folding them precisely as she liked. All was well.
“What of our guest?” Satia asked, swirling in more cream.
“We have him safe. He is not conscious yet,” Avice said. She placed the Bonded’s slippers and robe by the fire to warm “It might be another day or two.”
“Or more,” Mira added softly. “If he is in fact addicted to letheon, he may be semi-conscious for weeks.”
Satia frowned, staring at her bowl.“I am supposed to enter into subtle negotiations with a powerful blood mage to conduct the ancient family ritual for this babe, and I have to deal with a drug-addled, puking fool?”
The question was rhetorical, they all knew better than to answer.
“Still,” she narrowed her eyes. “I have a blood mage. It is a start.”
Avice opened her mouth, no doubt to remind the Bonded that they weren’t certain that the man was a blood mage. Caris gave her an incredulous look. Avice pressed her lips shut.
Satia slowly swirled the spoon, then scooped up more oats, catching any dribbles on the side of the bowl. She ate a few more bites, her mouth curving upwards in clear enjoyment. “And the midwife you are all forcing on me?” she asked softly.
“She should be attending your majesty later today,” Mira said. “One of the women under her care went into the labor early, and that has delayed her.”
“Hmph,” Satia scraped her spoon on the bowl, sucking up the last of the sweetness.
Pounding footsteps from the outer chamber. “Satia! Where is my queen?” rang out in glorious royal tones.
Caris whipped the tray down and under the bed. The others all donned worried looks as Satia sank down in the bed, looking pale and frail. Avice pulled the curtains closed just as the door burst open and the King strode in with a flair.
“A triumph!” Xyrath paused in the door, clearly coming from the practice ring. His quilted sparring jacket was stained with sweat and dirt, but his tanned face glowed, every golden hair was in place, and his smile rivaled the sun itself. “We should hold a triumph!”
He paused in to doorway, blinking in the dimness. “Oh, beloved, did you not have a good night?” He frowned at the women around Satia as if it was their fault.
“I’m fine,” Satia said weakly. “Come, my beloved. Sit here.”
Caris bowed herself back and retreated as Xyrath bounded over and seated himself on the edge of the bed, spreading his filth over floor and bedding.
“A triumph,” he crowed as he settled down, taking Satia’s hand in his. “We will declare a holiday and I will lead my men marching through the streets, crowds cheering, like in ancient times, dragging our prisoners in chains, all through the town.”
“You didn’t take any prisoners,” Satia sighed and smiled wearily. “You released them to their homes.” Her eyes narrowed. “With their weapons and armor. Remember?”
“Oh,” Xyrath frowned, then smiled wryly. “Ah, well. It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without prisoners.” He kissed Satia’s hand. “Did you see the portal this morning? We saw it from the practice yard. Awesome, all swirly white. Took four mages to cast. Pretty impressive.”
“And cost a pretty penny,” Satia grumbled, but that satisfied look was back on her face. “But worth it. Lord High Baron Orval will be all the quicker sending you your marble.”
Caris resisted the urge to laugh. The Bonded look so smug.
“When we start our conquest of the outlying baronies, mayhap we could use those portals.” Xyrath laughed. “Think of how glorious it would be to emerge from that swirly white circle, me in my gold armor, on a white steed.”
“Worthy of you, my King.” Satia smiled wanly.
“My precious girl,” Xyrath leaned forward to cup Satia’s cheek. “Do you think you will be available for audiences this afternoon? Lord Marshal Tarwain is especially insistent on speaking with you. He wants decisions on land grants. I told him that I’d make no final decisions without your advice.”
