Chapter 2

The next day, a Tower healer came to record family history for the miscarriage screening.

After she finished with me, she looked at Kael: "Is there any history of mental conduction disorders on the paternal side?"

He thought for a moment: "If the father is someone else, would I need to find that person?"

The room went quiet. The healer looked at him, then at me.

I grabbed the water glass from the bedside and threw it—water splashed everywhere: "It's already gone. Who else do you want to call in to identify the body?"

Kael went pale: "I want to know why it couldn't be saved."

"You won't even acknowledge it's yours—so why do you care why it's gone?"

He crouched down and picked up the scattered papers one by one. The last one was wet; he wiped it with his sleeve: "Because you carried it."

The healer said nothing more and left with the documents.

Kael clipped everything back together and set it where I couldn't reach: "Take it out on me if you want. Just don't hurt yourself."

I looked at the red marks on his hand where the glass had hit—and found it all utterly absurd.

That afternoon, Serena sent what she called the full explanation—it still only contained the test data.

I asked him: "Didn't you say you'd go get it yourself?"

"The Tower healer isn't back until next week. Serena sent the paper report."

"You believe everything she says."

"She's worked at the Tower for eight years."

"I'm your wife."

Kael frowned: "Why are you comparing those two things?"

"I'd like to know too." I stared at him. "Because she works at the Tower, when she says I cheated, you believe her?"

"She didn't say you cheated."

"Then what are you investigating right now?"

He looked away and flipped to my ultrasound report: "It says seven weeks here. That week I was on a mission in the North."

I froze: "You think seven weeks and two days means it was conceived exactly seven weeks ago?"

"What else would it mean?"

"That's counted from my last heat cycle—not from the day we actually conceived."

"Serena said there's machine error." He flipped to the calendar from two months ago: "Then tell me—what days was I home, and what days was I on mission?"

"Are you interrogating me?"

"I'm trying to match the dates."

"And after you match them?"

"Then I'll stop asking."

I grabbed his communicator and turned the screen off: "You know what time I wake up and what time I come home. And now you want me to account for every single day to prove I didn't sleep with someone else?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that's exactly what you're doing."

Kael was silent for a moment, then put his communicator away: "If you don't want to talk about it, wait for the results."

My fever hit thirty-eight degrees, and my wound was showing signs of infection.

Kael didn't sleep all night. In the early morning, I was shivering with cold, and he tucked my hands into his own clothes to warm them: "Sleep. I'm here."

I was feverish and hazy, leaning into his arms. A Sentinel's body instinctively seeks a Guide's spiritual comfort in weakness. I'd been in this embrace for six years. When he first passed the Guide assessment, he'd given me his spiritual key, saying, "You can come in anytime." When we struggled to conceive, he'd shielded me from his family's questions.

I had been certain that even if the whole world doubted me, Kael would stand by my side.

But as I leaned against his chest, I heard him reply to Serena:

【She says gestational age should be pushed back two weeks.】

Serena replied quickly: 【Ultrasounds have error margins too. She can spin it however she wants now. Wait for the test.】

I was fully awake.

I sat up straight from his arms, and he felt my forehead: "Still cold?"

"No."

"Then sleep a little longer."

I turned over, facing the wall.

At dawn, I was discharged. Kael tied my scarf for me and held my hand the whole way home.

I stared out the window—didn't pull away, but didn't hold back either.