She paused mid-bite, her cheeks flushing pink. “That’s what Aalis said, too. I can’t always stomach meat this early in the morning, though.”
“Fair enough, as long as you eat later.” He would be watching to make sure she did. For his heir, he rationalized. This child was his only chance.
It was then his parents stumbled in from the balcony, laughing, their wings tangled together. They must have just returned from a skyball or some other high-tier event, because they were wearing their finest. For once it seemed Cléa was the one in her cups.
“Oh, darling, you’re home,” she hiccupped when she saw Rikard at the table, sipping his mead. Then, spotting Hannalinde, she said, “Did you ask him yet?”
Hanna shook her head. “No. I will.”
“It’s almost dawn,” Cléa warned, leaning heavily on her husband.
“Not yet! We still have time!” Roul chortled and swept her off her feet, carrying her to their nesting chamber. As much as his parents bickered, they still loved each other.
Over the rim of his goblet, Rikard frowned at his mate, who was suddenly very interested in her bread, picking at it with her delicate, clawless fingers. Was she so prudish about the activities of a mated pair? “What is it?”
“Aalis suggested…” she began, then hesitated, chewing her lip. “I have been feeling…I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I am very happy here.”
He set down his goblet. “Go on, or you won’t get it out before I turn to stone. You can’t offend me if you have a complaint. I hear them all day.”
“I know,” she said miserably. “I hate to add to their number. I swore I would not trouble you if you gave me safety and your name, and you have done both those things. I did not even give you a mating gift.” She glanced at the skein of blue silk beside her plate. He had not intended it as a mating gift, merely as a little luxury for her. Something to make her smile.
“You are no trouble,” he said firmly. “Tell me or I shall have to ask Old Aalis myself, and I’d rather not climb down to the rookery after mounting the ladders twice today already. That would be trouble.”
Hanna bobbed her head sheepishly. “I suppose I have been lonely while you and your parents are in daysleep. Aalis suggested I find a human companion, as the isolation isn’t good for the pregnancy. A friend, perhaps, someone who can provide daytime help after the child comes, as well. I was wondering if Carlijn might come and stay with us in the eyrie. She’s my oldestfriend, and she knows about…our arrangement. She was there from the beginning.”
He did not have a high opinion of Carlijn and her tendency to ignore Hannalinde’s good advice, but if the mason said it would help the pregnancy, he could not stand in the way. “Will it make you happy?”
The question surprised her. He could see it in the slight widening of her eyes, the pause before she answered.
“Yes,” she said. “I think it would. I have not asked her yet, but I believe it will make her happy, too.”
“Then invite her. I will leave it to you to arrange the details with the keepers.”
She exhaled, and the relief in it was so palpable he could almost taste it, like the mineral sweetness of water from a deep well. “Thank you, husband.”
“You thank me too much. You have not thought of where she will sleep, have you?” The eyrie only had three nesting chambers.
From the look on her face, she hadn’t. “She could take my room, I suppose,” Hannalinde said in a cautious tone. “It has enough room for her wardrobe. She’d be comfortable there.”
He toyed with the stem of his goblet. “And where would you sleep?”
The pause that followed was long enough to contain several unspoken sentences.
“It is not so unusual for a husband and wife to sleep apart, but it would look strange to the keepers if your wife shared a chamber with someone else,” she said stiffly, avoiding his eyes.
“You propose to move into my nest?”
“If you do not object. I notice you never sleep in it.”
Of course he did not. The nest was for mating and raising young, not sleeping.
“The nest is yours. I’ll have the keepers bring fresh furs.” He was aware that his voice had gone rough at the thought of her sprawled out in his nest in some state of undress. He was as degenerate as the moths claimed, apparently. But she could not object if he roosted in his own chamber, and then he could watch her the way he’d been watching her for weeks…but closer. Much closer.
He swallowed hard, adding, “Do not thank me. It is your nesting chamber as much as mine.”
Hanna was still picking at the bread. A flush had crept up her neck, visible even in the lamplight, pink against her pale skin. “I will ask her, then. She may not agree. But if she does, I’ll have the keepers move my things while you’re—”
“In daysleep. Yes. You won’t disturb me.” The lie tasted like ash and honey. She would disturb him greatly. The nest would come to smell like her, and he would roost nearby every day, both unwilling and unable to look away.
