~ Saboteur~

by

A. J. Maguire

The physician was not polite or gentle with her when he bound her left arm to her body. As a matter of fact, Trenna was certain she’d seen him smiling at one point, which was not surprising, all things considered. Duchess of Kiavana or not, her former life as General Tray’Lana Silvanus was finally catching up with her. She’d always known it would, some day, and she imagined it was best to face the demons now rather than after the child was born.

Their child.

Nelek stood beside her, frowning at the physician’s work, grudgingly accepting a set of clean linens for her to wear during her stay at Cadabyr. Her breeches were to be washed and what was left of the gambeson and shirt bound for a seamstress, but they were given no timeline for when to expect them again. This was mildly ominous, and the darker, more paranoid part of her nature warned that they probably meant to burn the garments, because she’d be dead before she needed them again. On top of that, she imagined all of Cadabyr was going to have a fine laugh at the sight of her in the ivory-toned dress and chemise so graciously leant to her on short notice.

The physician at least looked pleased, almost smug, after they had managed to secure the garments onto her. The left sleeve of the chemise had to be tied up, bunched near the protrusion of thick bandages that lay underneath. He left soon after she was settled, lugging his trunk out the door with a wheezing laugh. Nelek went with him, keeping the door open a crack as he conveyed orders to the men outside. She watched, and she waited, tides of exhaustion urging her to lie back onto the mostly clean mattress and let dreams take her away from the steady throb of pain.

But she couldn’t sleep. Not yet. For a week she’d been hunting for a chance to tell Nelek about the child. She’d wanted it to be private, quiet, a special moment for them both, but now it was necessity. He had to know before another problem was thrust into their path.

It was fully dark when he returned, the glow of candles just beside the bed making an orb of light so she couldn’t see him. She knew he was there, heard the brush of the door against the floor as it was closed behind him, recognized the purposeful stride he made to the bedside. If he was surprised to see her awake he didn’t mention anything. Careful not to jostle the bed too much, he sat beside her. The bed was small, bringing them close together, reminding her at once of what his hands had been doing just before he’d asked about Brodis.

The look on his face when she’d told him was more than shock. Nelek was truly appalled at her. Somewhere deep inside herself, she was too. But that part of her was hidden beneath piles of justifications she’d made, years of battle and strife and loss. She was struck, as she often was when sitting next to Nelek, with her own obtuseness. Her prejudice against the Human race ran deep. It was inked in blood and fire, and unless she found a way to correct it in herself, she knew she could never hope to aid Nelek in his pursuit of peace.

But that didn’t matter. Not yet. Not now.

This was as quiet and as private as they were likely going to get, and she knew it.

“Nelek, I’ve something important to tell you.” She fumbled to clasp his hand in the dark. Her heart picked up speed, as though telling him would somehow make it truer than it already was. “The real reason I was looking for a private place.”

“I’m almost sad to hear you weren’t really looking for copulation, as you put it.”

She choked on a laugh. “Quiet, you rogue. This is hard for me.”

“I’m the rogue? You said it first.”

“I’m pregnant.”

She hadn’t meant to say it like that, but the words just sort of fell out of her mouth. She felt his body jolt with surprise, and he went unnervingly silent. For a moment the revelation suspended in the air between them, solid and heavy and almost painful. The danger level of their current predicament more than doubled in the space of three heartbeats, both of them aware of the added innocent life suddenly at stake. In the lengthening silence, Trenna recognized her fear, looming darker than the shadows in the room, palpable enough she could swear she felt icy fingers trail against the back of her neck.

All her life she had known fear, confronted it with blades drawn and the determination she’d been taught to embrace as a soldier. But at that moment, one hand anchored to Nelek and the other strapped tight against her body, she knew this was not something she could conquer with brazen swordplay and reckless action.

Because this fear wasn’t for herself.

“I know the timing is awful,” she whispered. “I’m sorry...”

“No.” His voice was firm, and his hand squeezed tight on hers. “Never be sorry for this.”

“I just...” She paused because she realized with horror that she actually sounded like a girl. And Trenna made it a point never to sound too much like a girl. “Bah. I am going soft on you.”

She heard a rustle of movement as he turned to face her. He picked up her hand and pressed a laughing kiss to her palm. The chuckling continued as he rubbed his cheek against the back of her knuckles, and she smiled back, curious about his good humor. The news of an impending baby amid her upcoming trial and the tremulous peace talks didn’t seem cause for laughter.

Nelek murmured against her ear, and she could feel the curve of his smile. “I find you fighting a horde of raging men, beaten down by mallets and glaring at death. After which you are callously treated by a sadistic physician and still in obvious pain,”—he paused to kiss her—“and you think you are going soft on me?”

He pulled her closer, which made her wince, but all things considered, she thought being held was worth the price of a little pain. Or a lot of pain, as it were, but it was pain she was slowly getting used to, adopting it as a fact of her daily life for the next few weeks.

With her settled at last in his lap, wounded shoulder facing away and legs resting horizontally across the bed, they both let out breaths of general relief. For all that they were surrounded by the enemy, boxed in by a spiteful man she really should have killed several years ago, and facing the impossibility of parenthood, at least they were together. Her more independent nature scoffed at this, but Trenna had learned over the last year and three weeks that there were some things she just didn’t want to face alone.

“We have to get you out of here,” he said quietly.

“It’s not that simple anymore, and you know it.” Trenna felt her eyes droop and knew her body was giving in to sleep. Her next sentence was stifled by a yawn. “If you try to take me now, you’ll never have peace with Cadabyr.”

“Peace be hanged. I’m not letting you die here.”

She smiled and let her head drop to his shoulder. “It’s mildly amusing that you already believe I’ll lose the trial.” She patted his chest when he went to protest. “Oh, I know the prejudice runs deep. You can’t get more bitter than Brodis Windringham. Anything I say will be cast in an unflattering light—we both know it.”

“You sound as though you already have a plan,” he said suspiciously.

She yawned again, tossed her pride away, and snuggled close to him. This was her husband, she reminded herself. She didn’t have to be strong or barricaded with him; she could let go and breathe. The strong beat of his heart in her ear began to lull her, and she closed her eyes.

“I was a general once, remember?” she mumbled, appreciating the feeling of being supported in his arms. “I started making my strategy the moment we walked in the gate.”

He snorted in dry mirth. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll make a few alternative plans myself.”