Page 125 of Promises to Keep

Emma said, “I could get Lizbeth to help procure some things for the birth, so we’re ready.”

Quentin ran his hand over his shaggy hair. “Antibiotics? Oxygen?”

“No, I doubt we could… What’s in the first aid kit?”

Hayley said, “Let me get the kit, I’ll be right back.”

She returned a few minutes later with the suitcase-sized first aid kit, and passed it to Emma.

Emma rummaged through it. “We have antibiotics for infection, here.” She flipped over a package. “Still in date. We have bandages, we have…” She flipped through. “We have some of what we need...”

Quentin looked at Beaty, took her hand, and squeezed it. “Then that’s fine, right? We’re good, we’re not supposed to leave, so yeah, this is going to be fine.”

Emma said, “We have a while until her due date, for sure Magnus will be back by then.”

James said, “Unless…”

Quentin said, “Fuck you, James.”

“We need to think about the real possibility that if something happened, we wouldn’t know.”

Quentin said, “Okay, I’m calling the meeting over, because the rest of this conversation is just going to get depressing.”

I said, a hand resting on my rounded stomach. “Magnus is fine, Magnus is waging war, Magnus is going to win the war, regain his throne and we have one job, to wait, to not leave our hiding place. It’s the only thing he is asking of us, so it’s what we need to do.”

Everyone nodded and we got up to go about our day.

James and Quentin went on a long hunting trip, and returned looking refreshed. Beaty was relaxed.

We were all good until a month later, Quentin called another meeting.

* * *

Hayley met me at the top of the stair. I asked, “What do you think he wants to meet about?” My fingers trailed along the stone of the circular tower stair as we walked down.

“He’s freaking out again. I saw him earlier at breakfast, he was in a cold sweat.”

“Okay, yeah, he’s really upset, that’s good to know. You didn’t say anything to get him freaking out?”

She chuckled, “Not this time, I’ve been on my best behavior. No, this is all him. Possibly James, though, they are always needling each other.”

Quentin had the chairs in a circle in the outer gallery, the one filled with rugs and large paintings of the ancestors. He had pushed the ornate chairs into a ring around the sofa, but he didn’t sit. The rest of us perched on the uncomfortable satin covered chairs, favorites of the Earl that he’d ordered from London.

Quentin put his hands behind him and paced back and forth, his coat form-fitting, his kilt sexy, his boots modern, a sword at his hip, as always.

He started to speak.

I interrupted to ask, “Where’s Beaty?”

“She stayed in bed, and this is… this is what we need to talk about. This is… I’m not taking no for an answer — I’m taking Beaty to a hospital.”

We all watched him.

Then I said, “Okay, yes, I agree.”

He stopped mid-pace. “You agree? I had a whole speech.”

“Scale of one to ten, ten being frantic, how bad do you want to take her to the hospital?”

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