Page 28 of A Throne of Blood and Ice

That is a lie, too.

Because Derek is going to marry me, and there will be a wedding and celebration, and perhaps even my father can attend.

I haven’t let myself expect that. For my father to live long enough to see me wed.

Suddenly, hope wells in my chest.

Hope in my chest and a baby in my belly.

I’m carrying Derek’s child.

Clarissa is still screaming, but I’m not listening.

I run down the attic stairs and on the way, imagine the grin that will overtake Derek’s handsome face when I tell him the news.

Derek’s facedoesn’t look like that of a man who’s just learned the girl he loves is carrying his firstborn. It makes my chest sting, the way he blows out a steadying breath and runs his fingers through his brown hair.

“This isn’t happening. How could this be happening?” he mutters to himself. Like he’s forgotten I’m in the room. He paces about the abandoned barn on the back of the property. Light cuts through the slits in the boards, slicing across his strong features. Last time we were here, he’d been whispering into my ear, telling me how much he loved me.

When his fingers had found the button securing my dress in the back, I’d panicked and exclaimed I was late for my weaving lessons.

It still smells just the same in here, of rot and animal manure.

Fates, he’s handsome. So much more than I am.

Maybe that’s why he’s upset.

I’m plain, and he’s worried our baby will be plain, too.

I don’t think that’s possible, not when our baby’s father looks like Derek.

I wonder if I should tell him that, but then I remember I was confused too, when I first learned I was carrying a child. I hadn’t understood how it worked, and it dawns on me that Derek could be just as confused.

I’m talking before I can stop myself, the words spilling from my mouth like water soaking into the ground, and it’s seeping into the earth, and I can’t get a hold of it. “I think it might have something to do with the time in the pantry.” Derek stops his pacing. His body goes still, rigid, his fingers still lingering in his tousled hair, like they’ve forgotten they’re supposed to be messing his hair up. “I didn’t know that was how it worked either. I thought one had to be married to have a baby, but I think perhaps—”

“Fates, Blaise. Please don’t say another word.”

I don’t. It’s hard to find words when someone who is usually so gentle, so loving, sounds so very angry. Even though I grope for them, they don’t come, those traitorous words. So fickle. They were pouring out of my mouth only a moment ago, and now they refuse to budge.

Sometimes people cry when they’re happy. I’ve yet to see it until now, but perhaps sometimes people yell when they’re happy, too.

“Does anyone else know?” he asks. Shame floods me, and it’s so potent, I wonder if the baby can feel it. If it feels like it’s drowning. Of course Derek is upset. He’s going to be a father, and he wasn’t even the first person to find out. Fates, Clarissa knows. And the cook and the maid.

I tell him as much. “But they realized it before I did. I would never have told them before you. I would have wanted you to know first.”

Derek swallows, taking his hand and rubbing it across the front of his neck. The pressure of his fingers leaves red splotches on his skin. “And you’re sure I’m the father?”

Something sharp guts me. “Of course you’re the father, Derek. Who else would it be?”

“I have a hard time believing that, given how available you make yourself.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Why would anyone want to do that with someone they didn’t love with all their heart? “Of course not. I love you.”

I’m not sure why I expect him to say it back. He’s only said it the one time. I hadn’t noticed that until now.

“I mean it, Blaise. You can’t pin this on me just because you fancy me. If there’s a sliver of a chance this child could be anyone else’s, you have to tell me.”

It’s the first time the thought occurs to me that perhaps I’m not the only girl Derek has led into a pantry.

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