moonshadows

The nausea catches me unaware, and with startling clarity I come awake with the knowledge of where I am, where Varian is, and which chamber pot will be closest to reach. My unfortunate husband is awakened equally rudely as I scramble over him, flail under the bed for a moment, and am noisily sick.

“Taretha?”

The muted clunk of the chamber pot being set down is the only answer his worried question gets. I don’t have the energy to even move my arm; it hangs over the side of the bed.

“Tari, what’s wrong?”

His hand rubs my back soothingly, but there’s an edge in his voice now. It’s not quite panic, but the alertness of battle. I try to find words with which to answer him, but now that he nausea has passed I can’t describe how I feel except in generalities.

“Feel lousy,” I croak.

Warm, rough fingers brush hair off my cheek. “I’m going to send a page for water and toasted bread. Do you want juice?”

“Ugh, no.” My stomach roils just thinking about it.

“…and a physician,” Varian says grimly. “Just relax, Tari. I’ll be right back.”

The next thing I am aware of is Varian by the door to the bedroom, talking with an older gentleman. I must have drifted off. The royal physician shoos my husband out of the room and comes over to the side of the bed.

“His Majesty tells me you aren’t feeling well. I’m just going to check a few things, okay?”

I weakly nod agreement and he checks the pulse in my wrist, lays his hand on my forehead, opens my mouth to check my throat, then pulls the chamber pot out and sniffs the contents.

“Your Majesty,” he says finally, “when was the last time you had your flows?”

Now I am awake. I’ve been expecting them for the last two weeks. “I’m pregnant?”

“I take it that your flows are late, Majesty?”

“Yes. By two weeks.”

He smiles, face a mass of wrinkles beneath steel-gray hair. “Allow me to be the first to offer congratulations, your Majesty. Shall I send your husband in?”

“Wait. Let me rinse my mouth?”

He hands me the glass of water sitting on a tray along with a plate of now-cool toasted bread, waits while I rinse and spit into the chamber pot, then takes the glass back.

“You may send him in, but let me be the one to tell him.”

“Of course, Majesty,” he smiles.

The physician opens the door and motions Varian over. My husband doesn’t even wait to hear whatever not-explanation the older man gives him; within seconds he is kneeling by the bed with my hand clasped between his.

“Tari?”

I give him a weak smile. “It appears that we will have an early harvest next year, my lord.” He looks confused. I tug his hand and lay it on my navel. “Your seed found fertile ground.”

“Oh, Light, Tari…I didn’t think…is it…are you…?”

Seeing him scrambled like this, fearful that this will strain the relationship between us, makes me love him even more. I tug his hand again, bringing it to my cheek where I can lean into it. He freezes at my look of adoration, then pulls me awkwardly into a half-hug and holds tight.

“Are you really okay with this?” he whispers thickly into my hair. “I…we should have talked about this, but I never thought…”

“I never thought, either. But, Varian…” I swallow. “…I’m glad.”

He releases me gently, guiding me back down and propping me up with pillows so that I am half-sitting. His cheeks are wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, bringing my hand to his cheek and nuzzling it.

“I love you, too. Varian? If it’s a girl, let’s name her Tiffin.”

Fresh tears course down his cheeks. “If it’s a boy, we’ll name him for your father.”

“Tammis Wrynn. Prince Tammis.” I smile. “Thank you.”

“Oh, Tari, thank you.” Crookedly, he smiles at me. “I’m going to be absolutely hopeless for the next few weeks, you realize, doting shamelessly on you. Be sure to tell me if I get on your nerves.”

That makes me laugh weakly. “You know I will.”