Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [61]
“Oh, my poor Lyrra,” Maryn said. “Did I frighten you?”
“Not in the least.” She yawned, covering her mouth with both hands. “You just woke me, that's all.”
He smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. When she held out her hand, he took it, patted it, and released it again.
“It saddens my heart to see you so gaunt,” Maryn said. “You've not been well, your women tell me.”
“I feel a good deal better now, with you here.”
“Good. I've been thinking about these—these illnesses of yours. I know full well that they come from giving birth. I can't stand the thought of putting you through this ever again.”
All at once the warm night turned cold around her. He was watching her so sadly, so affectionately, really, that she fished for words but caught none.
“You've always been my partner in rulership,” Maryn went on, “and truly, how could any man hope for a better one? It's a fine way to repay you, risking your life in childbed, making you suffer afterwards.”
“Here! It's not like you've done anything harmful to me. Some women just take childbirth this way.”
“If I keep getting you with child, then I will have harmed you. Lyrra, think! How long can you endure all this? You don't eat, you weep all day, you can neither sleep nor wake—it wrings my heart to see it.” He was speaking with real feeling, real concern, perhaps the most he'd ever shown her. “We've got three healthy sons. That's enough. The line will stand secure without you going through these torments again.”
For a brief moment she tried to do what he wanted, to think calmly, to weigh risks, but the moment broke in a flood of tears.
“But I love you,” she sobbed. “Can't you see that?”
He sat so still that even through her tears she realized that he was terrified. Her weeping stopped. She grabbed the hem of her nightdress and wiped her face, snuffled back the rest of the tears, caught her breath in a long deep sigh, and faced him.
“You mean ever so much to me, too,” Maryn said. “But that's why I can't risk getting you with child again. There's a bedchamber in my apartments, up at the top of the broch. I'll be sleeping there from now on.”
Or in your little mistress's bed, you mean. Aloud, Bellyra said, “Very well, my lord. Far be it for me to say otherwise.”
“Oh stop it!” Maryn got up and paced a few steps away, only to turn back. “I'm not handing down a judgment upon you. Lyrra, please, can't you see? I'm frightened for you.”
She could see, and the seeing killed her rage. “True spoken,” she said. “Some women would thank you for this, Marro. I know that.”
“Don't do that either! I—ye gods, this hasn't been an easy decision for me to make.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. I honor you more than any woman in the world, Lyrra. I don't know how I'd rule without you.”
There were women who would have cut off an arm to hear their husbands say that as well. She forced herself to smile, to murmur thanks, to reassure him by telling him how flattered she was, but by the time he finally left the chamber, she wondered if she hated him as much as ever she'd loved him. The two passions seemed to twine together round her heart and choke it.
“Other women truly would thank the Goddess for a husband like him,” she said aloud. “Ah well, I suppose I'll get used to it.”
Now that she was alone, she could weep all she wanted, but she no longer felt like tears. She lay back on the pillows and watched the candlelight dancing on the beams until at last she fell asleep. All night she dreamt of Maddyn and the sweaty, desperate kisses they had shared out in the ward.
Lilli stayed late in Nevyn's chamber. She told him of the past few months' happenings in the dun and listened to his tales of the battle and of Braemys's strange withdrawal from the kingdom. It was like Braemys, as she thought