Page 175 of Given to the Black King

“Of the birth?”

“Yes.”

“Of me?”

“Yes.”

“The baby?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“Stairs. Fever. Winter. Bad milk. Loose stones. Horses. Rivers. Time.”

She waits.

“Raspberry leaf,” I add.

Iona groans.

“The universities disagree.”

“The universities can fight in the yard.”

“One says it strengthens the womb.”

“One says it causes early labor. I know. You read both letters aloud during supper.”

“We require a third authority.”

“We require breakfast.”

I consider the light beyond the shutters.

“Strawberries.”

“And bread.”

“Eggs.”

“No eggs.”

“You need strength.”

“I need you to stop issuing orders to my stomach.”

“You said strawberries.”

“The baby said strawberries.”

I look at her.

She smiles.

The child kicks again beneath our hands.

“See?”