No response but Ludo’s wail, which seemed to grow in intensity with each passing second. “I’ll kill ’im, I will,” she muttered, followed by a stream of curses that would redden a sailor’s ears. She slung the door open, still half-blind from exhaustion, and stumbled like the drunk her husband had been the night before, until she reached the tiny crib. There she found Ludo, having broken free of his swaddle, tiny hands fisted and angry as he released another shriek that felt like needles being stabbed into Lana’s brain.

The identical crib beside Ludo’s bed stood empty. A quick scan of the room proved her husband was nowhere to be found. “I only asked fer one thing…” She fixed Ludo’s swaddle, snug but comfortable, subduing his battling arms, but he refused to settle. She offered him a finger to suckle, but he twisted and turned his little head away from it, a steady stream of shrieks from his toothless mouth his only return offer.

“Must be hungry,” she thought, though she still felt empty from the last feeding. She scooped him up, settled into her rocking chair, and pressed him to her breast. Like her finger, he refused it, wriggling and howling until he was beet-red in the face.

“What do you want?” she said, raising her voice more than she would’ve liked. Familiar tears stung and blurred her tired eyes. Where was the strength she’d been taught? She couldn’t even comfort her own baby. She couldn’t even do this one simple thing. And where was Kernan? Why had he left her with Ludo when she’d expressly instructed him to handle the twins so she could get some shuteye? Why did the gods give her two sons when she would’ve been perfectly content with one? Everyone she knew had called it a blessing, but now she was certain they were wrong. It was a curse, and an evil one at that. The gods made a mistake, they must’ve. This squalling infant in her arms was never supposed to be. How could he be, considering the way her sons had come into this world, against all odds?

In that moment, it was the only thing that made a lick of sense to her sleep-deprived brain.

And she knew just what she had to do.

She gathered him up, ignoring his howls, strode to the door and exited into the sunlight. Outside, the streets were bustling as they were for most of the day, until the sun went down and the workers went home, a brief respite before survival would force them to do it all over again. Someone said her name, but they might’ve been shouting through a pillow, and she turned away without responding.