“I’m so happy, Greylen, but I feel horrible.” She tried to make light of her symptoms. Greylen, however, took them very seriously. He helped her undress, then carried her to bed. It was the first night they didn’t make love, but he covered her stomach protectively with his hand, and she fell asleep in seconds.

When Gwen awoke, he was already gone, but he’d left a note upon the table. It simply said “I love you.” She tried to get up but couldn’t move. Anna found her in bed when she came to tidy their chamber and cared for her throughout the day again.

Anna continued to bring the tea infusions, which seemed to be the only thing that eased her nausea. But as the day turned to night, Gwen started to think that something else was causing her sickness and knew that she had to talk to Greylen.

But she never awoke when Greylen entered the chamber that night. And the next day, she actually felt better. She made it to the great hall and had a light meal with Isabelle and Lady Madelyn. And by the later part of the week, her strength began to return, probably because she was eating more and drinking less.

On the seventh night, she awoke to pain. Pain like she’d never felt before. Her body was racked with cramps, and she was so weak she could barely cry out.

“Gwen?” Greylen came awake instantly. “Gwen, what’s wrong?”

“Your mother…please,” she somehow managed to say, tears streaming down her face.

Greylen pulled back the covers to do as she asked. His expression masked but a second after he took in the sight of his wife’s body atop a small, but growing, pool of blood. He hadn’t noticed how much weight she’d lost, nor had he suspected anything amiss—until now.

“I need to lift you, love. I know you’re in pain,” he said softly. He’d not leave her, not even for the seconds ’twould take to fetch his mother. He cradled her shaking body and carried her to his mother’s chamber.

He stood by his mother’s bedside, calling to her in the calmest voice he could muster. And considering the rage and terror he felt, it took everything he had.

Lady Madelyn came awake, her hands covering her mouth. “Lay her on the bed, Greylen,” she ordered as she stood. “Fetch Anna, tell her to bring my bag and have the servants prepare a bath. Quickly, Greylen.”

She’d needn’t have said quickly, he was already halfway down the hall as she yelled the last of it.

Anna almost screamed when she came awake. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her, his light-colored breeches were soiled with blood, and the look on his face was obviously one she had never seen before. “Dear God, Greylen, what’s happened?”