Son in Sorrow (An Intimate History of the Greater Kingdom Book Two) by MeiLin Miranda

Author:MeiLin Miranda
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy series, historical fantasy, victorian fantasy
Publisher: MeiLin Miranda

Chapter Eleven

Vennaday, the 25th day of Winter's Beginning, 992 KY

"The Queen is in labor?" said Anda.

The spoon in Temmin's hand stopped midway to his mouth and he snuck a glance around the dining hall. His last petitioner had taken longer than expected, and by the time he entered the room most of the diners had already finished; near-empty tables and padded benches surrounded them. Satisfied no one might hear their conversation, he answered, "Yes, I got the message just after lunch with the Holy Ones. How'd you know?"

"Allis made a cryptic remark to me in private. Never worry, nothing indiscreet." Anda pushed back her rose-colored sleeve to avoid dragging it in her soup as she reached for the bread basket; Temmin put down his spoon and hurried to hand it to her. "Thank you. I'm glad I was delayed in my dinner, too. I rarely get to see you any more. Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

"I'm hoping the next Supplicant snores."

Anda stuck her tongue out at him and buttered a roll. "It took me some time to get used to my new room, I confess. When d'you think you'll hear about your mother?"

"It's her fourth child, so I'm told it shouldn't take too long." He took another spoonful of soup, mindful he didn't slurp. His manners in the last two years had improved; he almost never dribbled soup down his front in his haste to fill his stomach now. Jenks would be proud.

"Isn't it rather early for the baby?" said Anda. "It's not quite six spokes since Neya's Day—that went by quickly. Well, I suppose it's not too early. I hope so, anyway. Aren't you worried, though? Shouldn't you be there?"

Temmin shrugged. "I don't know what I could do if I were, apart from pacing up and down with my father." He finished the soup and pushed it aside to attack the chicken and rice before him. "They'll send for me once the baby is born, and then I'll go see my new little sister."

"How do you know it's going to be a sister?"

"Educated guess," Temmin grinned.

"Have they picked a name?"

Temmin swallowed his mouthful of chicken. "Anneya. She's a Neya's Day babe, after all!"

Ansella paced her bedchamber, her gait heavy and waddling. Midwives supported her on both sides; when a contraction swelled she stopped and held onto them. Her voice rose high, verging on a shriek. "Low, Your Majesty, low. Oooooo…" encouraged the midwives. Ansella brought her voice down as they urged; somehow the lower pitch brought the pain down, too. She rested for a moment, letting the women hold her up as she regained her breath, and then resumed the slow walking up and down.

She grew tired. "Why is it taking so long?" she moaned.

"It's not so very long, my dear, though it feels long," soothed the lead midwife. "You'll be able to greet her soon, just think of that!"

"I can't!" wept Ansella. "I can't do this any more!"

The midwives exchanged a knowing smile over her head. "Come dear," said the lead, "let's sit you down in the birthing chair for a rest.

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