Day 70, 3:55 AM

“No man should bring children into the world who is unwilling to persevere to the end in their nature and education.”

— Plato

It’s dark when Manny jumps out of the bed. I’m awake, shuddering, my heart galloping like a beast of war.

Assassin?

Manny’s bare feet slap against the wooden floor before I open my mouth.

Watcher isn’t triggering.

“Are you all right?” But she slams open the door of our toilet and starts retching.

Poison?

“Manny?” The entire keep echoes with my bellow, but she just keeps hurling.

What did she eat yesterday? We shared all our meals, and I’m fine. My physique is probably much higher than hers, but I don’t even feel a heartburn.

“I am all right.” She makes the nasty sound again before finishing. “Nausea.”

I fumble in the dark and light the lantern, struggling not to hyperventilate.

“General! Is everything in order?” Bibby bangs the door, I’m so out of it, I missed them stomping as they ran up the stairs.

“At ease. Everything is fine.”

Manny’s probably loud enough for them to hear her.

“Duchess is feeling slightly ill. Nothing to worry about. Sorry I startled you, please go back to your posts.”

“If you say so, my lord.” Footsteps grow faint before disappearing beyond the door, and I’m a nervous wreck, waiting for Manny while my mind asks questions it shouldn’t be asking.

Is she really fine? Did the assassin get her somehow? The restroom door creaks, and Manny appears. She’s pale and shaking. Her short hair is wet and stuck to her forehead.

“I am all right.” She’s not. Her whole body is trembling, her hands in particular. “We need to talk.”

I nod, clasping my hands and realizing I too am shaking.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

My world buzzes and spins. I think she’s talking, but my stomach churns and suddenly I think I also need to run into the bathroom.

Something grabs my arm, and Manny is shaking me.

“Say something.”

“I’m sorry. I think I fainted with my eyes open.” I draw a breath and try to gather my bearings.

What do you say in situations like this? Right…

“That’s wonderful news.” I choke up.

She was a prostitute. I saved her two months ago, but the baby could belong to anyone from Amplegord.

Shut up!

Suddenly my cheek stings, and I’m laying on the bed, blood running out my mouth.

Manny screams.

“Why did you do that?”

I take a moment to realize she’s asking me.

“Do what?”

“You slapped yourself so hard you fell over!”

Ah. Right. I hated myself for a moment. Did I really hit myself so hard?

The blood pooling in my mouth says I did.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just checking whether I’m dreaming.”

“You are not dreaming.” She’s panting. She’s panicking too.

Get your shit together. She needs you.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I do not know how it happened. I used the same medicine. But my period was late, so I took an extra dose, and now I am nauseous. It could be a coincidence. I do not know what to do—”

I grab her arms and press my body against hers. My mouth is full of blood, and I have enough common sense not to kiss her.

I gulp and finally remember what you’re supposed to say at a time like this.

“I love you.”

You should say what you feel, not what you think.

She shakes and sobs.

“I am sorry,” she whispers, and I hug her tighter.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. That is wonderful news, and considering how much I’ve been humping you, we’re probably having triplets.”

She chortles.

“Are you all right?” I ease my hug to let her breathe.

“I am.”

“Let’s make love.” I kiss her, and she wraps herself around me.

Bad idea, and we both know it right away. I stink of blood, she of half-digested dinner, so I hug her from the back instead and kiss her shoulder.

“You said you used some medicine?” I keep my voice calm, and she nods.

“Unwanted. You drink it when you do not want a child.” Manny clenches my hand. “It is not that I do not want your child. I do, but our circumstances are perilous and bringing a child into the whirlwind we are starting is an act of cruelty, not love.”

She takes two deep breaths.

“Still nauseous?”

“I am fine. But I do not understand. Women have been using unwanted for generations, centuries. No accidental pregnancies have ever been recorded. I can try drinking another dose?”

“No need. I want to have a child with you. Even now.” I can hear her draw a breath and open her mouth to argue, but there’s nothing to argue. “We can make it. Trust me. I had three children before, it’s a shitstorm, but it’s also wonderful and rewarding at the same time.”

She clenches my fingers so tight it’s bound to hurt her. “And you dragged your children around battlefields or left them home during wartime? Aang, you cannot comprehend the cruelty of war. Our child will be thrown off the walls should we lose. The king has nothing to fear if he wins. He can kill us and our child with impunity, without fearing he would create martyrs for my brother’s— You are hurting me.” The last line comes out as a high-pitched squeal, and I realize I’m clenching her hand now.

I ease my grip. “Sorry. We will win. No matter the cost.”

We just exist for a moment. In the dark silence, I can feel her heart beat, and she can feel mine.

“Should we get married?”

“Yes. Before my belly starts showing. My subjects ignore our illicit relationship, but an illicit child is something else. It would be a statement about you, me, and our disregard for established customs and order. Customs almost everyone adheres to.”

Yeah. That kind of sounds like a disaster in the making. Plus, sex in a wedding dress is bound to be incomparably better than sex in armor.

“What can you tell me about the customs? Is there a wedding dress involved with the wedding…”

Manny wakes up first. I feel her getting up, but I don’t want to wake up.

“Don’t go.” I grab towards her without opening my eyes. My palms press against the soft skin or her waist as I gently drag her back down. “Come on, we can spend a day in bed. I’ll massage you like yesterday. The fat chef can bring us warm omelets, and honey and bread. Or just honey, I know a lot of ways of deliciously spreading honey without—”

“Aang, stop.” She pushes my hands away from herself. “We have duties to perform, and last night we added a cartful of new problems to our desk. I must meet with the council today, and see if anything has happened during our brief absence, what did the other local lords say to my offer. We cannot—”

“I know, I know.” I release her, and she stands up. “Phill must be itching to kick my ass today, and beat me extra hard with a stick while two grown men dance a jig on my back and I’m doing pushups.”

The old goat-faced sadist was itching to beat me bloody.

I say good morning to him, and my nose tingles with Sense of Danger. I lean back and Phill’s training spear whistles an inch above my face.

“Cheeky brat.” He snorts. “Good morning to you, too. A sparrow told me you’ve been slacking off on fighting and training this past week.”

“Master Philligon,” I say, and he stares at me, “I would like to make a request. Well, two. Do you mind if we move more of our training sessions indoors, so I can be closer to Manuella? I fear for her safety, and nobody in the world can protect her better than me.”

He takes that weird pose in which everyone else sees a man folding his arms, yet I can’t unsee an old goat hugging a dance pole.

He nods. “And the second request?”

I lean closer. “I would like you to vouch for me a month from now, when Manuella and I get officially married.”

He sways on his feet. Is he about to have a stroke?

“You, you’re getting married!” Everyone turns around and stares at me.

Well, we did plan to announce it, and now the whole city will know thanks to you, you old goat.

“We are.” There’s no point denying it.

“Oorah! Oorah!” the boys shout louder than I ever heard them. Someone starts clapping and it picks up into a roaring applause.

“Thank you, thank you. You are all invited, and we planned a holiday for the entire city, but it’s not happening today. The wedding is a month from now. We have to send invitations…” Why do I feel the need to justify myself?

I can’t answer that one and keep talking for a while before Phill interrupts me.

“You lot, get back to training, and you.” He points at me, his face red with fury. “Follow me inside.”

“You’re just a commoner. Worse, a slave,” he hisses the moment I close the door behind us. “Have you any idea how much you have cost her strategically? Even if she approves of you and accepts you, misguided fools would have flocked to her banner in hopes Manuella would marry them or their sons for political gain.”

He scratches his scalp and pulls on some innocent tufts of hair.

“You ruined that possibility now. Why did you have to propose now? Why not when the war is over? And why the hell did she say yes instead of explaining these things to you, you dumb lug?”

The man’s throwing a tantrum, more a spoiled child than the wise instructor I know him to be, but his blather does help me understand some things.

Fear was not the sole reason Manny drank the miscarriage medicine. Maybe she was willing to trade our unborn child’s life for an extra layer of safety. Before she seemed certain we had a chance, but this morning she seemed a lot more afraid than these past few weeks.

The pieces click into place, and I understand what’s happening and what I should do.