Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [20]
Owden opened his eyes, but left his hand pressed to Tanalasta's naked abdomen. She could feel the goddess's mending heat flowing into her womb, making her loins tingle and ache in way that was not entirely unfamiliar and a little bit embarrassing. Tanalasta let the sensations wash over her and tried to accept what she felt with no shame. Such stirrings were a gift from Chauntea, and private though they were, no worshiper of the Great Mother should deny them.
By the time the High Harvestmaster's gaze finally drifted toward Tanalasta's face, she could bear the suspense no longer. "What of the child, Owden?" The princess found it difficult to speak. Though a healer had obviously worked his magic on her broken jaw, it was sore, stiff, and bound by a silken scarf. "Has it been injured?"
Owden's eyes flickered away before answering. "You have had no pain or bleeding?"
Icy fingers of panic began to work up through Tanalasta's chest. "What's wrong?"
"We don't know that anything is," Owden said. He did not remove his hand from Tanalasta's abdomen. "It's only a question."
"One you must know I can't answer." Tanalasta had awakened only a short time earlier, and the first thing she had done was send for Owden. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Half a tenday… or so they tell me." Owden raised his free hand and absentmindedly rubbed the cloth over his own wound. "I awoke only yesterday myself."
"And Alaphondar?"
"In the palace library. Seaburt and Othram are also here, but I'm afraid the others…" He shook his head, then said, "The orcs came in too fast."
Tanalasta closed her eyes. "May their bodies feed the land and their souls blossom again," she whispered.
"The goddess will tend them." Owden clasped her arm. "They were brave men."
"That they were." Tanalasta glanced down between her bare breasts to the harvestmaster's other hand, still pouring its healing warmth into her womb and asked, "Now, what of the child? I trust you are not just enjoying yourself."
The joke drew a forced smile from the normally jovial priest. "With all those guards out there? I think not." He glanced toward the anteroom door, then shook his head and told her, "The truth is, I have no way of knowing. I could ask the royal healers if there have been any signs, but they'd know at once my reason for asking."
Tanalasta considered this, then shook her head. "Let's avoid that. We need no rumors sweeping the realm, at least not until the nobles have accepted that I am married."
"And to whom," Owden added pointedly.
Tanalasta flashed him a frown of irritation, one of those rare glowers she reserved for the few people who would not interpret them as some subtle message by which whole families were made and unmade.
"Would knowing the signs make any difference to the child?"
Owden thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Either you are still with child or you aren't," he said simply. "If you are, all we can do is keep pouring Chauntea's blessings into your womb and pray they are enough to counter the corrupting influences of your association with the ghazneth."
"Would you please call it a fight?" Tanalasta asked dryly. "'Association' makes it sound like we were… trysting."
Owden winced at her objection, but the anteroom door banged open before he could apologize. Jerking her bed gown down over her breasts, Tanalasta looked over with an angry rebuke on her tongue and found her mother striding into the room.
Queen Filfaeril was, as always, strikingly beautiful. Tresses of honey blonde hair streamed behind her, and blue eyes glared at Owden's hand, which continued