Page 23 of Monster's Secret Baby

I sigh, rubbing dirt from my knees as I stand—too quickly. The garden tilts sideways, and Joss rushes forward, catching my elbow before I can stumble.

"Whoa there," he says, concern etching his young face. "You alright?"

"Just stood up too fast," I lie, though the dizziness is becoming worryingly familiar.

Back in the kitchen, Marda takes one look at my pallor and pushes a mug of honeyed tea into my hands. "Sit," she orders.

I obey, too tired to argue. The kitchen bustles around me—Tamsin from the smithy collecting breakfast for her and Holt, Eira stopping by to argue about the proper way to prepare brimbark. My new life, constructed so carefully day by day. Safe. Predictable. Nothing like the secret, stolen moments with Adellum that consumed me for months.

Three weeks ago, I missed my monthly bleeding. I told myself it was stress, the change of place. But deep down, I knew.

"Harmony." Marda's voice cuts through my thoughts. The kitchen has emptied, and she sits across from me, her eyes knowing. "Three mornings you've nearly fainted. You pick at your food like it offends you. And yesterday I saw you step away from the stove when I was rendering fat because the smell made you green."

I stare into my tea, watching ripples form as my hands tremble slightly.

"You're not sick, girl." Marda reaches across the table, her warm, rough hand closing around my wrist. "You're carrying."

The words hang between us, making real what I've been avoiding. My free hand moves unconsciously to my still-flat stomach.

"I know," I whisper, tears pricking behind my eyes.

"The one you left?" she asks, though it's barely a question. I've never spoken his name here, but Marda sees too much.

I nod, a single tear escaping before I can catch it. "What am I going to do?" My voice breaks on the question.

Marda's grip on my wrist tightens reassuringly. "First, you're going to eat something that won't turn your stomach. Then you're going to rest. And then—" her voice softens, "—then we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this, Harmony."

Another tear falls, then another. I've been so careful not to cry since arriving in Saufort, afraid that once started, I might never stop.

"He doesn't know," I say, the words cutting like glass. "And he can't ever."

Not now that I know who Adellum really is. He used me, broke me. I won't dare give him the chance to do that to our child, not when I know he is really a cruel, manipulative bastard.

A wave of nausea hits me hard and fast. I stumble out the kitchen door, nearly knocking over a stack of pans in my haste, barely making it to the small herb patch before my stomach heaves.

"Oh gods," I gasp between retches, tears streaming down my face unbidden. The morning dew soaks through the thin fabric at my knees as I brace myself against the cool earth.

It's impossible. It's undeniable. A tiny life is growing inside me—and I know with painful certainty whose child it must be. Adellum's child. The thought sends another wave of nausea through me, though my stomach has nothing left to give.

Behind me, I hear the soft creak of the kitchen door. Marda approaches with silent footsteps, placing a cool cloth on the back of my neck. She doesn't speak, just kneels beside me in the dirt, one sturdy hand rubbing circles on my back.

"What will I do?" The words escape in a broken whisper. "How will I raise a xaphan-blooded child alone?" My hands curl into the soil, fingers digging into the soft earth as if seeking anchor. "A half-breed child with wings that might never fully form. Or worse—what if they look just like him?"

Marda's hand stills on my back. "First, you breathe. Next, we see Ansel."

I look up at her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "The healer? I already know I'm?—"

"You need proper care now. No arguments." Her tone brooks no resistance, but her eyes are gentle. "Can you stand?"

My legs feel hollow, but I nod and let her help me to my feet. The world tilts slightly, then rights itself.

"Marda, I can't—the breakfast rush?—"

"Joss and Tamsin can handle the morning. You're more important."

The walk to Ansel's cottage on the edge of the village feels eternal. Every step forces me to acknowledge what my body already knows. I'm carrying Adellum's child—the man who casually kissed another woman while claiming to love only me. The same man whose silver eyes haunted my dreams for months. My hands tremble, and I tuck them into my pockets to hide them from Marda's watchful gaze.

Ansel's cottage smells of dried herbs and river water. The taciturn healer greets us with a raised eyebrow but says nothing as Marda explains why we've come.

---