Prince's Poison (The Aermian Feuds Book 7) Page 3

  “Are you okay?” she wheezed.

  “I would have been if you hadn’t snuck up on me.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed on him. “You shouldn’t have been up in the first place.”

  Gav tugged, and Mira winced as he pulled her hair. “I’m capable of relieving myself without an audience,” he said tightly. He managed to get his hand free of her hair and tried to move away, only for pain to assault him. He braced himself on his elbows and shut his eyes, working through the pain. Mira’s hands clasped his cheeks.

  “Just take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. Let me help.”

  He gritted his teeth. Was this not embarrassing enough? He couldn’t even climb off of her by himself.

  “Gav,” she said softly.

  He opened his eyes, breathing hard. Mira smiled up at him, understanding and compassion written across her face. He froze as she skimmed her thumb along his cheekbone.

  “It’s okay,” she crooned. “Things like this happen all the time. It’s natural. Stop fighting and work with me.”

  He swallowed hard and relaxed. His body lit up, and he chose to stare at the tip of her nose, so he wasn’t focusing on how her soft curves melded against his. When had she developed those anyway? All he remembered was her gangly form when they were teenagers. She shifted, and he gritted his teeth. She was all woman now.

  Damn it.

  It was torture.

  His gaze moved to her left ear. It was so small and dainty. The thought struck him as odd, and a yearning to place a kiss beneath her ear hit him hard.

  What the hell?

  Had he spent too much time with Mira? Was he really lusting over his healer?

  She’s been mean.

  That sobered him. She may look like an angel, but she was as vindictive as they came. That much hadn’t changed since they were kids.

  “Papa?”

  His attention snapped up to Isa, who rubbed at her sleepy eyes. She hopped from the cot, dragging a blanket behind her until she stood in front of him. Isa squatted down and squinted at Mira.

  “What’s Papa doing on top of you?” she asked.

  “He fell down and took me with him.”

  Isa glanced at him, her attention moving to his chest. “Where are your clothes, Papa?”

  “I have pants on,” he murmured. “Go back to bed, love.”

  His daughter glanced between the two of them, before her eyes rounded and a huge smile burst across her face. “Are you making a baby?”

  “What?” he blurted as Mira began to shudder with silent laughter beneath him.

  “Grandfather was talking about more grandbabies today. I wanted to know how they are made, and he said that when a man and woman love each other, they…”

  “That’s quite enough,” Gav said gruffly. “We’ll talk about this later. Now, get back in bed.”

  His daughter nodded and slowly trailed back to her cot, casting curious glances over her shoulder, as if she would catch him in the act.

  Gav sighed. What had Marq been thinking?

  He dropped his head and glared at Mira. Her fingers were over her mouth, covering her mirth.

  “It’s not funny,” he grumbled.

  She dropped her hands, and then let out a peal of laughter. Gav found his own lips curling as tears of mirth dripped from the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m going to kill the king,” he muttered, brushing one of the tears from her cheek.

  “The look on your face,” she gasped, giggling. “You’re so uncomfortable.”

  “Oh, hush, you.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m the one with a child, not you. What would you know of such things?”

  “Healer, remember?” she retorted, smirking.

  So sassy.

  “There’s knowledge.” Gav leaned forward with a smile. “And then there’s knowing, Mira.”

  Her smile dimmed, and her pupils expanded.

  A rush of adrenaline and desire ran through him.

  Followed closely by guilt.

  What was he doing? Mira was his healer, his wife’s best friend, and his nemesis for the time being. She wasn’t someone he could play around with. Plus, that wasn’t who he was anyway. He’d never casually flirted with anyone.

  “Help me get up,” he barked.

  All expression drained from her face, and a placid mask slid into place. His heart ached at the change, but he brushed it away. This was the way it had to be.

  Chapter 4

  Sage

  “That all you got, girlie?” Zachael hollered from his perch on the fence.

  Sage narrowed her eyes at the weapons master and pointed her sword at him. “You’re next, old man.” He grinned at her.

  “Nothing much to worry about if you keep leaving yourself open to every attack.”

  The gall of the man. She scowled and stuck her tongue out, knowing the bastard was right. Today just wasn’t her day. Her whole body ached, nightmares plagued her all night, and she could not shake the feeling of being watched.

  “Are you ready?” Marq called.

  Sage glanced to the left of the training ring and squared up to the king. “Yes.”

  Her father-in-law cocked his head and blinked slowly at her. “You don’t seem like it. Where’s your mind today?”

  Still in a haze of nightmares.

  She smiled wanly at him and lifted her sword. “Come and get me.”

  The king’s demeanor changed as he lunged. She met his blow and clenched her teeth as he used his height to press her backward. Her boots slipped in the mud, and she lost traction. She wouldn’t win this way.

  Sage disengaged and rolled under his arm as he swung and popped back to her feet as he spun to face her. The world tilted for a second before righting itself. She shook her head and parried each of the king’s strikes, her movements becoming more and more clumsy.

  “What are you doing, Sage?” Zachael bellowed. “Get in there. Stop letting him take so much ground. He’s a bloody old man.”

  She growled and dug deep, managing to go on the offensive.

  Marq wiggled his brows, looking so much like Sam it was uncanny. “That all you got?”

  “I’ll show…” She trailed off as movement behind the king drew her attention.

  The Warlord leaned against a fencepost, his dark eyes locked on her. “Hello, consort.”

  Her breath seized, and numbness took over her body. A sharp pain pressed against her hip. Sage stumbled back two steps, her eyes wide as she tore her attention from the Warlord to meet Marq’s concerned gaze.

  “What was that?” Zachael barked.

  Her attention darted back to the fence, but the Warlord was gone. She scanned the training yard as her stomach churned, and bile rose in her throat. Sage spun on her heel and rushed to the edge of the training ring as her breakfast made a second appearance; her whole body shuddered and heaved as she emptied the contents of her stomach. She dropped to her knees. Calloused hands gently pulled her hair back from her face as she clutched the nearest post for support. Her nails dug into the wood as she tried to steady herself.

  He’s dead. He can’t hurt you.

  “Why won’t you leave me?” she whispered, choking on a sob. She quickly released the post, wiped at her eyes and then her mouth.

  Zachael knelt next to her, and she leaned her left cheek against the post to look at the weapons master, Marq still holding her hair back.

  “Today is just not my day,” she muttered.

  Zachael pursed his lips. “You need to be more careful.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe it’s time you took a break for a while,” he said.

  She shook her head and forced herself to straighten. “I’m fine.”

  Marq patted her on the back and stepped next to Zachael as he stood. Both men eyed her and then exchanged a look that said far too much.

  “What?” she snapped. “Just come out and say it.”

  “Dearest, you’re being careless, and that’s not like you,” the king sai
d softly.

  “I’ll do better.”

  “Better isn’t good enough,” Zachael said gruffly. “If Marq hadn’t pulled his hit, you and the wee one could have seriously been injured. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

  Wee one? She stared at them. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  The weapon master’s jaw slackened, and he tossed a panicked look in Marq’s direction. Her father-in-law glared at Zachael and rubbed at his brow before stepping closer and clasping her shoulders in his hands.

  “You have not been to see Mira?” he asked. “Or your mum?”

  “No,” she wheezed as wee one echoed through her mind. It couldn’t be.

  Marq nodded and gave her a small smile. “Daughter, you’ve been throwing up, you’re exhausted and off balance, and dare I say, you’re pricklier in the recent months. All of those things point to one thing, Sage.”

  Her legs wobbled, feeling like noodles. “It’s not possible.”

  “From the way my son looks at you, I say it’s more than probable,” he said wryly. “When was the last time you had your menses?”

  Zachael coughed and glanced away.

  She scowled at him. “Women’s moon times bother you?”

  He met her scowl and grinned. “No, but you’re the one blushing. Now, answer the good king’s question or he won’t stop badgering you.”

  Sage turned her attention back to Marq and tipped her head back to gaze at the clear blue sky. When was the last time she’d had her menses? Stars, she couldn’t remember. “This always happens when I’m stressed. They’ve always been this way growing up.”

  “But you weren’t sharing a bed with a man at that time, were you?” Marq said, not beating around the bush.

  Her stomach bottomed out again. “It can’t be,” she whispered, then burst into big ugly sobs. Two pairs of arms wrapped around her and held her as she cried.

  “It’s not so bad, girlie,” Zachael murmured. “I’m ready to be a grandad again.”

  “Get your own grandchildren, you wretch,” Marq grunted.

  “It’s only fair you share yours with me since I helped raise your boys and have served you all my life.”

  “You make a fair point.” The king sighed.

  Sage hiccupped, and her sobs turned to laughter. “What a pair you make.” She giggled. “Arguing over a babe that might not even exist.”

  Both men pulled back, and Marq used his sleeve to wipe her face.

  He beamed down at her. “It’s not a matter of if but when.” He clasped her cheeks and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’m a lucky man to gain such a daughter.” He released her as Zachael pulled her into a bear hug.

  “You’ll make a fierce mum. I can’t wait to help train your little one.”

  More tears flooded her eyes, and she squeezed him hard before stepping out of his embrace.

  “Now, off to the healer with you,” Zachael commanded.

  Butterflies filled Sage’s stomach as a million fears and hopes bombarded her.

  A baby. Part of her didn’t want to know.

  “Do you want us to go with you?” Marq asked.

  Sage opened her mouth to say no, but then she paused. She really didn’t want to go alone. “Please.”

  The king looped her right arm through his, and Zachael did the same with her left, and they led her from the practice ring.

  “I bet it’s going to be a girl,” the weapons master murmured. “I’d bet my best sword.”

  “I’ll take that bet. But it’ll be a boy,” Marq replied confidently. “Our line is famous for boys.”

  Sage snorted. Men.

  Sage entered the infirmary with Zachael and Marq in tow. Gav was glaring at Mira while she was folding linens. The healer’s smile faded, and she dropped the sheet she was holding onto the cot when she saw Sage. Briskly, she strode toward her.

  “What’s wrong?” Mira asked, all business.

  Sage opened her mouth to answer and croaked, heat filling her eyes. Mira wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her from the room. Heat from the fire and the scent of basil curled around her as the healer closed the door behind them. Sage wiped at her face and sat in a chair near the fire. Mira poured two cups of tea and handed one to her before taking her own seat.

  “What’s wrong, Sage?”

  Her hands trembled as she took a gulp of her tea. She spluttered when it scalded the inside of her mouth. “Hot,” she rasped.

  Mira’s blue eyes narrowed over the rim of her own cup. “You’re radiating anxiety. Out with it.”

  Sage set her cup down. “The king thinks I’m with child,” she blurted.

  Her friend blinked slowly. “And this is news to you?”

  “What do you mean, this is news to me? You’ve known?” Sage spluttered.

  Mira’s eyes widened, and she set her teacup on her lap and held her hands up. “I thought you wanted to keep it private for now?”

  “That’s because I didn’t bloody well know!” she exploded. Did everyone in the palace suspect?

  The healer reached out and placed a hand over Sage’s. “I’m so sorry. I just know how you are. I thought you’d come to me when you felt was appropriate for you.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “But, I mean, your menses?”

  “Nonexistent,” Sage replied woodenly.

  “Breast tenderness?” the healer asked.

  “It hurts to wear a corset.” Or to have Tehl touch them.

  Heat crept into Sage’s cheeks, and though Mira didn’t comment, she saw the knowing gleam in her eyes.

  “Then don’t wear them,” Mira suggested. “And the morning sickness?”

  Sage winced. “I just assumed it was because of the nightmares.”

  Mira’s eyes filled with compassion. “I’ve heard that dreams become far more intense when carrying a child. Are they so bad?”

  “It feels real.” Sage wiped a hand over her forehead and dropped her head. “Sometimes, I can’t distinguish reality from my nightmares. I sometimes see him during the day, too, when I’m awake.” Her hand dropped to the scars on her throat. What right did she have to be a mother? Most days she could hardly take care of herself.

  “It will fade in time, I promise,” Mira said softly. “But, in the meantime, I can give you something for the poor sleep and for your sickness.”

  Sage lifted her head. “Am I truly with child?” It didn’t seem real.

  “You are, my friend. Congratulations. I can’t wait to meet your sweet little one.” Mira smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Sweet might be a stretch, though. More likely, it’ll be a hellion.”

  Sage barked out a laugh as her heart sped up. “I’m sure you’re not far from the truth.”

  Chapter 5

  Mira

  Mira’s smile threatened to wobble as she led Sage from the apothecary room and caught sight of the excitement and love in both Zachael’s and the king’s expressions. Longing and a touch of envy filled her. What was wrong with her? She’d never been a jealous person.

  She closed the door behind them and ushered her friend toward the waiting men, struggling to keep her feelings in check. Sage spun and wrapped her arms around Mira. Mira squeaked and tentatively hugged her friend back.

  “Thank you,” Sage whispered.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Mira responded, trying to keep her tone light.

  “You lessened the fear.”

  “So?” King Marq demanded.

  Sage released her and turned to face the king. “You were right.”

  The monarch beamed and held his arms out. Mira swallowed as Sage barreled into his arms, and the trio left the infirmary with happy chatter.

  Mira stared at the swinging door for a long time, her hands clenching and unclenching.

  Sage was with child.

  Something you’ll never experience.

  An ache started in her chest, and she rubbed at the spot, feeling like she could hardly breathe. What was going on with
her? She’d never desired a child so much as she did at this very moment. Was it because all her friends were married and having children?

  You made your choice.

  She dropped her head and stared at her apron-covered, flat belly. Maybe it wasn’t the actual raising of the child that she desired, but the experience of carrying a wee one inside her. Mira had always been in awe of the miracle of pregnancy.

  At least you can experience it through your friends.

  Her skin prickled, and it dawned on her that she wasn’t alone.

  Her head snapped up, and she locked eyes with Gav. He was leaning against the far wall, near the privy, his cane clutched in his left hand. The silence stretched between them until she couldn’t take it any longer.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “What was all that about?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The prince rolled his eyes and shuffled toward her, his cane thumping against the floor. “You’re upset.”

  Mira’s jaw dropped. “I am not. I’m happy for my friend.” She spun away from him and walked to the fireplace to check her fever brew. She stirred the mixture, her hand shaking. How had she forgotten that he was in the room?

  “You’re more transparent than you think. You’ve never been able to lie to me, Mira. Why are you upset?”

  She tapped the wooden spoon on the rim of the pot and placed it on a dish before straightening. Then, she brushed her hands over her herb-stained apron and tried to find the right words. No sense in pretending. Gav had always had an uncanny way of understanding her mind.

  Mira moved back to her pile of linens and picked up a sheet. There was no way she could have this conversation without having something to do. Gav groaned, and she peeked at him from the corner of her eye as he lowered himself into her father’s rocking chair next to the fireplace. He stretched his bad leg out, kneading the muscle before leaning back in the chair.

  “So?” he prompted.

  “I’ve always wanted to be a healer.”

  He chuckled. “Even when we were little, you were constantly mending our scrapes and bruises.”