snapped. “I can take care of my own wife. I’ll do something about the servants.”
She hesitated. “Even that may not be enough. Her body is rejecting this pregnancy.”
“The baby?”
“The baby is surviving, but that’s the problem. It’s time to consider ending this pregnancy.”
His fingers curled into fists. “End it? Did she suggest this?” He knew that sacrificing royal blood gave great power, but he didn’t think she would stoop so low as to destroy her own child for it.
“No. In fact, she’s refusing to end the pregnancy. Even if she survives, she will be weakened for a long time. She may never recover. I’m asking you to persuade her to stop this before it’s too late. I’m very concerned.”
“But what’s the problem?” Cara hadn’t had problems with Scarlet, and she was human. Surely a fae , a follower of a god, would be stronger.
“She’s a banshee. She stands for death. She’s not supposed to give life. Not like this.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then maybe you should discuss this with her.” She glanced at the daoine sídhe . “Are all of these bodyguards truly necessary?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “And I’d advise you not to wander the castle alone either. This is a bad time.”
“I see.” She shook her head. “It’s of no matter. I’ll stay in her quarters and make sure she’s being cared for properly. The other banshees don’t appear to be very… caring, do they? You could send for Anya. She may be a pixie, but she has experience with—”
“No,” he said abruptly. He didn’t want news of Sorcha’s illness to spread any farther than it already had.
“Will you at least speak to Sorcha?”
“I will,” he said. “Immediately.”
“Good. I’ll busy myself getting the fire going.” She reached up to pat his arm. “We’ll save her.”
If Sorcha died, he would be free. And what would happen then? He thought of Cara and Scarlet, of joining two courts to make one large, strong kingdom. And then he remembered bloody X’s and shuddered. He could never bring Scarlet or her mother near the place. Not like that.
And without Sorcha, he would be lost. She helped him when the pressure of the fae depending on him grew too heavy. She took his sins and made them hers to lighten his load. Only she understood the toll the crown was taking on him. A solitary half-breed was never meant to hold so much power. So why wasn’t Cara suffering, too?
He went inside and almost recoiled. The room smelled fetid. He moved to the darkened windows and pulled open the curtains. The banshees kept closing them, preferring to keep the room stuffy and dark. He pushed the windows wide open then went to a set of drawers to find an extra blanket for Sorcha.
Three banshees looked on disapprovingly. He ignored them and the pair of daoine sídhe standing on the inside of the door. Sorcha was awake, watching him with dull eyes. He pulled the extra blanket over her, making sure she was warm, but the tips of her fingers looked blue and lifeless.
“The Miacha spoke to me.”
To his surprise, Sorcha set her jaw stubbornly and tried to roll over.
“Stop,” he said, gently preventing her from turning away. “We should at least talk about this.”
“Not in front of them all,” she murmured.
Understanding, he sent everyone outside the room. “Now, we’re alone. We can speak freely.”
“Then tell me what’s going on. Why are the daoine sídhe always here?”
“Because I don’t trust Donella ,” he admitted. “I embarrassed her, and she somehow knows about the baby. I think it’s best if we take precautions until she calms down.”
“What happened?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “No, I don’t want to know.” A tear dripped from the corner of one eye and ran down the side of her face and behind her ear.
“Nothing happened,” he said, worried. She rarely showed such emotion, even when they were alone. “And Donella’s not important. The Miacha believes you