Page 173 of Given to the Black King

Iona does not know about the third.

She knows everything else because the bond makes secrecy difficult and because the household reports me to her.

She reported me to myself last week.

“You are becoming unbearable,” she said at council.

“I have always been unbearable.”

“Not like this.”

“This is correctly informed caution.”

“This is you assigning six guards to a bathtub.”

“The floor was wet.”

“You were in the bath with me.”

“Exactly.”

The council voted.

Unanimous.

Unbearable.

I accepted the verdict and reduced the bath guard to four.

Iona’s breathing changes beneath my hand.

She is not asleep.

“What are you counting?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

“Your thoughts have gone into columns.”

“The bond is intrusive.”

“You bit me.”

“You summoned me.”

“I was in love.”

“You remain responsible.”

She rolls onto her back in slow stages.

The movement requires both of us now. I support her shoulders. She arranges the mountain of pillows Sera insists upon. The child shifts under her skin.

I watch.

I cannot stop watching.

The first time the bond found the second heartbeat, I stood beside the bed until morning.