Free A Mighty Fortress by David Weber

Emperor of Charis, said reasonably to Sharleyan Alahnah Zhenyfyr Ahlyssa Tayt Ahrmahk, Duchess of Cherayth, Lady Protector of Chisholm, Queen of Chisholm, and by God’s Grace Empress of Charis, “they got frozen in your ser vice. The least you can do is help me thaw them out again!”
    “And if the shock of being poked with two lumps of ice makes me throw up again?” she inquired darkly.
    “At the rate you’re throwing up, whether I poke you with ice or not isn’t going to make any difference,” he told her philosophically. “Besides, you’re facing the other way.”
    Some things could not be allowed to pass by any self- respecting empress, and Cayleb squawked as she whipped around and slender, vengeful fingers found his armpits. In one of the universe’s less fair dispensations, he was far more ticklish than she was, and she pressed her despicable advantage ruthlessly.
    “All right! All right! ” he gasped finally. “I surrender! I’ll thaw my own feet out, you ungrateful and unreasonable wench!”
    “Ooooh! ‘Wench’ is it?” she retorted, and he shouted with laughter as she redoubled her attack. Then he rolled back over, caught her wrists, and pinned them down. She started to wiggle, only to stop as he bent over her and kissed her forehead.
    “But you’re my very most favorite wench in all the world,” he told her softly, and she shook her head with a smile.
    “You really need to work on your technique, Your Majesty,” she told him. “On the other hand, considering the source—and the fact that that’s probably the very best your poor, primitive male brain can do—I accept your apology.”
    “ ‘Apology’?” He quirked one eyebrow. “I don’t remember making any apol—”
    She smacked her hip into him sideways, and he paused in midword, his expression thoughtful.
    “What I meant to say,” he corrected himself in a dignified tone, “was that I’m gratified— deeply gratified—by your forgiveness.”
    “Which is why you’ll live to see another dawn,” she told him sweetly. “A consideration which did cross my own mind,” he conceded, and gave her forehead another kiss before he settled back.
    Given the way her own mouth tasted, she couldn’t fault his kisses’ placement, she admitted as his right arm went back under and around her and he drew her head down on his right shoulder. She nestled close, treasuring the warmth of their blankets, inhaling the smell of him, and he raised his arm behind her in a hug which happened to let his right hand caress her hair.
    “Seriously,” he said, “how long do you expect this to go on?”
    “ Too long, however long it is,” she said darkly, then shrugged. “I’m not sure. Mother says she was never morning sick at all, and neither was Grandmama, as far as Mother recalls, so that’s no help. Or particularly fair, now that I think about it. And according to Sairaih, her mother was morning sick for at least ten months. Or was it an entire year? Two years?” The empress shrugged again. “Something like that anyway.”
    She grimaced fondly, and Cayleb chuckled in sympathy. Sairaih Hahlmyn had been Sharleyan’s personal maid since she’d been a little girl, and she seemed to be enjoying the present moment rather more than the empress was. She was certainly hovering for all she was worth, and no matter what Father Derahk, the palace healer, might say, Sairaih could be relied upon to think of one of her innumerable female ancestors who had experienced the same problem, only incomparably worse. No doubt she fondly imagined she was reassuing her charge by telling her how lucky she was that things were so much less bad than they could have been.
    Or something.
    “Well, maybe Merlin can give us an estimate,” Cayleb said.
    “Maybe.” Sharleyan knew her tone sounded a bit tentative, but she also figured she was entitled to at least a little anxiety, given the nature of her projected itinerary.
    “Nervous?” Cayleb asked gently, as if