Smiling, the medicus reached inside his leather bag and produced a syringe. “Let me run a few tests first before I can congratulate you.”
With a steady hand, he drew blood from her forearm. “Bring the Blessed Bride a juice and something to eat,” he said to Crea, who bowed and left for the kitchen.
Balenus lingered for a few more minutes, engaging Mirella in some chitchat, while she waited for Crea to come back with a tray. “I’ll send you something for the nausea with one of my ancillae.” He stood to leave.
“You’ll let me know right away—?” Mirella couldn’t help but say when the medicus reached the door.
“Of course, Blessed Bride.” Balenus bowed and left.
With her nerves in tatters but at the same giddy with hope, Mirella nibbled at the sweetbread Crea had brought for her, then sipped the herbal tea.
“A walk would do you some good,” Crea said, after watching Mirella playing with her food. “Master Lobo has let me know that he will be coming after lunch to pick you up for your trip to Adris.”
Mirella looked at Coral coloring the Great Plains with its orange rays. The idea of sitting idly while she waited for Balenus to come back with the results didn’t enthrall her. “A walk might be what I need.” She was already dressed to go outside and fresh air would only improve her mood.
They strolled through the hanging gardens for an hour before the pang of hunger made her stomach rumble. “Funny, but I could eat an entire lamouris right now,” she joked.
“This way to the kitchens,” Crea pointed at one of the stone paths winding through the pools and the gazebos.
From around one of the bridges straddling the brook, Mirella saw two guards walking at a hurried pace toward them.
“What time is it?” Mirella wondered if they had walked longer than she realized and Valentine sent for her. In doubt, she headed toward the guards.
“It isn’t that late.” Crea sped to keep up with her.
A few meters from them, the two men pulled their guns from their holsters, aiming at Mirella and Crea.
Chapter Twenty
Valentine sat in his studio, behind his desk, talking to Martali, but kept looking at the door. He had seen Mirella strolling through the gardens a while ago and summoned Balenus, hoping he would arrive before she came back and delivered him from his biggest fear.
Following his gaze, his head guard asked, “Should we adjourn?”
Valentine waved the notion away. “No, finish your briefing.”
“As I was saying, it was confirmed that the gun comes from a batch forged for the elite guards protecting both the Royals and the clergy at the Vestal House. Once the autopsies are done, I’ll be able to tell you more,” Martali said. “Also—”
A discreet knock on the door halted the man.
“Master Lobo—” Balenus called from the hallway.
“Come in.” Valentine then nodded at Martali, who had already risen. “Talk to you later.”
The head guard and the medicus exchanged greetings at the door, then Balenus took the freshly vacated seat in front of the desk.
“Well?” Valentine had spent the last few hours in a torturous state of mind. He was so scared, he felt nauseous.
“I have great news for you.” Balenus smiled and leaned to reach into his bag. When he straightened, he had two glass ampoules in his hand. One contained blood. The other was filled with a substance that resembled the viscosity of blood, but was a deep blue. The medicus shook the ampoules. “This is the Blessed Bride’s untouched blood—” he raised the vial with the red liquid. “This—” his smile amplified as he tilted his chin toward the vial with the blue substance “—is the Blessed Bride’s blood treated with an agent that changes the vital liquid’s color when it finds a particular human hormone.” He paused, then said, “This sample is, without a doubt, saturated with chorionic gonadotropin, hence the bright blue it turned into.”
Valentine’s heart stopped.
“In less than nine months, Lupine will be celebrating the birth of the Twelfth Master of House Lobo,” Balenus finished triumphantly, depositing the ampoules on the desk. “Congratulations, Master Lobo. Your union has been blessed with an heir.”
He had known it all along. Her scent had changed. His wolf had been calmer than usual because the beast knew it had won. Dallian had smelled her pregnancy. The possibility she was already with child had always been there. They had consummated their union a few times before he decided he cared for his bride deeply. It was all his fault.
His beautiful, sweet, generous Mirella would die to give him an heir.
His son.
At the thought of his cub, Valentine’s heart twisted. The child would be small and defenseless and if his father couldn’t love him, he would grow up without guidance. His son would become a cynical adult, hardened by a lonely life.
“You have her eyes,” Marcellus had said. “I can’t even look at you.”
Centuries had passed, but Valentine remembered every single word his father spat at him in disgust. From his father, he only learned how to despise himself as he lived in solitude. Could he subject his son to the same treatment?
But what if the child even remotely resembled his mother? Could Valentine look at his son and feel anything but loathing for him?
Valentine felt his stomach contract at the thought of hating his cub. It was only a child. His and Mirella’s. They had created life, together. And his son would need him. More than anyone else in the entire world, he would need his father.
“I assume you’d like to tell the Blessed Bride yourself now that you know.” Balenus’s voice intruded in Valentine’s wonderings. “She’s quite eager to know the results, but she wasn’t in her apartments when I went back to tell her the good news.” The medicus stood and reached the door.
Valentine blinked. “Wait.” He looked around, then shook his head, trying to make order out of the chaos that was his mind. “Is there a way to save Mirella?”
With his hand on the handle, the medicus turned and sighed. “You know there isn’t.”
“I don’t want her to die.”
“Master Lobo—” Balenus released the handle, pushed the door closed, then stepped closer to the desk, but didn’t sit. “There’s nothing that can be done.”
“Humans have C-sections all the time.” Valentine was grasping at straws, but he couldn’t help it.
“Humans do. But the Blessed Bride has stopped being entirely human the moment your Vital Essence took root in her womb.”
“Werewolves are strong—”
Balenus shook his head. “A caesarean birth won’t be a possibility in the Blessed Bride’s case. I’m sorry.”
“You could try to remove the infant a month or two earlier in any case. I’m sure my son would be fine.”
“I could never force an earlier birth.”
“Why?”
“Because the infant decides when he’s ready. In the past, medici had tried C-sections, losing both the cub and the mother. The moment the Vital Essence took hold into the Blessed Bride’s womb, her destiny was sealed. The fetus changed her physiology to create a safe environment for a shifter inside a human vessel. As I said, your wife is not entirely human any longer. She is, in fact, a breathing incubator. Her body is symbiotically connected with your son. While she feeds him, he keeps her alive. Without him she would die immediately.”
“There must be a way.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t. I’m sorry.”
Steps from outside announced another visitor.
“Valentine?” Gabriel called.
Balenus nodded at Valentine, then walked to the door and let the vampire in as he left.
“You look like you’ve seen a specter.” His friend was never one to mince words.
When Valentine didn’t respond to his provocation, Gabriel brought his chair closer to the desk and leaned on it. “What did the medicus say that has you so altered?”
Valentine sighed. “I’ll be a father soo
n.”
“I am—” Gabriel’s eyes widened, then he shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say.” Valentine needed something to drink. “In a few months, I’ll have a son.” Images of a child with auburn hair and green eyes played in his mind. His wolf let out a content sigh, licking its front paws.
“And you’ll love him because Mirella will live through him,” Gabriel said. “That’s what Marcellus should’ve done.”
“I know.” Valentine reached for the voice-intercom to his right, summoning Aldo.
The majordomo must have been running errands far away from the studio because it took him several minutes to arrive.
“What can I do for you, Master Lobo?” Aldo asked at the door, his voice breathy and his face flushed.
“Unpack the Blessed Bride’s trousseaux. She won’t be traveling to Celestia.” Valentine passed a hand over his face. Stubble covered his jaw and his head. He hadn’t had time to shave that morning.
Aldo’s face lit at the news. “I’ll take care of it immediately. Is there anything else?”
“Start dismantling the harem. Find a good job for the girls who don’t want to stay in the business and give the go ahead to the courtesan coop,” Valentine said, then dismissed the majordomo, who left with a shocked face and a lighter spring in his step.
Once they were alone, Gabriel said, “I applaud your resolution.” Then he added, “Although, it will make my staying here less pleasant and lonelier.”
“Deal with it.”
“What prompted the decision?”
“Mirella abhors the mere idea of courtesans.” The memories of the heated conversation he and Mirella had about his harem were fresh in his mind. A small smile tugged at his lips at remembering her vehemence and outrage when he had said the harem was to stay. “And I have no use for it.”
He couldn’t think of being intimate with another woman. Not now. Not when she would be gone. Not ever.
Pain tore through his heart, and he pressed a hand against his chest.
“Valentine?” Gabriel gave him a worried look.
“It’s nothing.” A bubbling sound coming from over his shoulder made him turn to face the dark mirror behind his desk. “Give me a moment.”
“Sure, I’ll be outside,” Gabriel said, exiting the studio.
“Aretius,” Valentine greeted the face emerging from the mirror.
“Congratulations are in order,” Aretius said, blinking his eyes open. “The Brotherhood is proud of you.”
“Thank you.” How ironic that his brethren would finally praise Valentine for something he abhorred. “Is there anything else the brothers wish to discuss with me?”
“That will be all for now. We’ll eagerly wait for the birth of our heir.” With a chilling smile, Aretius’s face slowly sank into the swirling depth of the mirror until only the smooth surface remained.
Our heir.
Valentine stared at the dark glass for a moment before he was able to shake the cold feeling from his shoulders. He then exited into the hallway, where he found Gabriel.
“I need to give my bride the good news.” Leaning against the wall, Valentine closed his eyes for a moment. “She will be so happy—” A lump formed in his throat.
Gabriel nodded. “You’ll make her happy.”
Valentine blinked, then pushed himself away from the wall. “I’ll go look for Mirella.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Gabriel said, accompanying him through the manor.
They walked abreast, and Valentine was grateful that his friend didn’t attempt to engage him in conversation. His focus was on putting up a good face for Mirella when he finally told her she was pregnant.
He would need to look happy when he wanted to die inside.
The last time he had seen her was in the gardens, so he started looking for her there and was glad when he didn’t find her right away. His nerves were still too frayed, and he needed more time to keep his emotions in check, something he never had any need to do before.
After almost an hour pacing through the meandering paths, Valentine headed back to the house proper.
“Mirella knew I would come to pick her up to take her to Adris and must’ve gone back to change for the ride,” he explained to Gabriel, hurrying toward the entrance to the right wing.
“Wait—” Gabriel touched his elbow. “I think I’ve seen something.” He left the pathway and jumped over a low bush, then leaned over the edge.
Valentine heard his friend’s low curse.
“Come here.” Gabriel straightened and the expression on his face didn’t look promising.
“What is it?” Valentine sprinted. His heart pumped against his ribcage as his thoughts were stretched in every direction.
Behind the bush, a black leather shoe lay on the grass. The pointy toe looked familiar. Its sight froze Valentine, and he remained rooted to the spot a few meters from Gabriel, who kept staring down.
“Not Mirella,” Gabriel said when he looked up and saw Valentine standing at the edge. “It’s her lady’s maid.”
Released from the spell, Valentine joined Gabriel. The girl had a big gash on her head, but her chest rose and fell regularly. To Valentine’s immediate relief, the shoe belonged to her. But it took him only a moment before he imagined the worst. “Where’s Mirella?” He looked around, terrified he would find her body sprawled like her lady’s maid’s.
The same fear that had frozen him a moment before now propelled him into action. “Call Martali,” he ordered, and Gabriel sprinted toward the house.
Propelling his legs forward, Valentine covered as much ground as he could. He shut off his mind, stopping the insidious thoughts before they impaired his judgment, but his wolf would not be silenced. The beast howled and cried. The mournful wails echoed louder and louder until they were the only sound Valentine heard. The wolf drowned Valentine’s erratic heartbeats throbbing against his eardrums.
Mirella wasn’t in the gardens. After having spun like a madman around footpaths and bridges, Valentine headed back to the spot where Gabriel had found the lady’s maid.
A small crowd had gathered. Among them were Aldo and Martali, who spoke to the servants and the guards, and Balenus who was checking on the girl.
“Mirella?” Valentine asked Gabriel.
The vampire stood beside the medicus, asking questions, but turned when he heard Valentine’s voice. “You didn’t find her?”
“She isn’t in the house?” Valentine raised his voice at the end as he closed the distance between them. He had been running faster than any human ever could and could barely stop his legs from shaking. But it wasn’t the physical effort that made him weak.
Gabriel shook his head. “Nobody has seen her.”
The lady’s maid stirred in the medicus’s arms. “Good girl,” he said, waving under her nostrils an open vial. He had already wiped away the blood from her face.
The cut on the girl’s head wasn’t deep, and when she opened her eyes, she immediately focused on Valentine.
“They kidnapped her!” the lady’s maid said, trying to sit, but she faltered and the medicus cushioned her back into his embrace.
“Steady,” Balenus whispered, administering more of the reviving waft from the vial.
Crouching in front of them, Valentine kept his need to scream at bay and collected his wits. “Who did?”
“Two guards.” The girl looked over Valentine’s shoulder.
“My guards?” Anger and fear coalesced in one sentiment that rendered Valentine nauseous.
The girl nodded.
“Do you know them?” Valentine’s hands fisted.
“I’ve seen them once or twice around the house.”
“Martali!” Valentine couldn’t keep his voice down any longer, and his call silenced the low murmur of the crowd.
The head guard dropped what he was doing and hurried to Valentine’s side.
“Can you describe them?” Valentine asked the
girl.
“Yes—”
“Find who betrayed me,” Valentine said to Martali, then left with Gabriel.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cold and humidity swept through her bones as Mirella slowly stirred. She was lying on a hard, wooden surface that creaked when she moved. Her body ached and her head hurt.
“Aren’t you just precious?” someone said, sounding sarcastic and too close for comfort. There was something unpleasantly familiar about the woman’s voice, but Mirella’s mind was slow.
Peeling her eyes open, it took a moment for Mirella to fully comprehend what she was looking at. The room was dark, and the woman who had spoken stood right in front of her, her face maybe a meter away from Mirella’s, obscuring what little light came through a door left ajar.
Mirella tried to push herself up and heard the clank of a chain rattling on a tiled floor. Her right ankle was encased in a metal manacle, weighing her leg down. She found herself perched on a narrow cot, in a room with a high ceiling. Besides the makeshift bed, no other furniture decorated the windowless quarters.
“Slept well, Blessed Bride?” The woman stepped even closer, then leaned over Mirella. Her hair was illuminated by a pale sliver of light, revealing Ronda’s red mane.
But even if Ronda had remained in the shadows, Mirella would have recognized her disrespectful tone once she spat “Blessed Bride” with all the venom the courtesan was capable of. Then memories of the guards abducting her came back to Mirella. “What have you done?”
“This time, I’ll make sure you won’t escape your just punishment,” Ronda murmured, still too close.
Mirella could smell the cologne wafting from the courtesan, and it repulsed her, making her heave.
“Are you going to be sick?” The woman stepped away, giving Mirella’s nose a moment of respite from the sickly-sweet assault.
“Answer me,” Mirella said, pressing her hands against the wooden planks of the cot. “What do you think you are doing kidnapping me?”
The Fifth Moon's Wife (The Fifth Moon Tales Book 2) Page 11
