In Which Alina Invokes the Obscure Sobriquet

December 24, 1166

Alina would not cry. She had been sure to get the tears out of her system before--alone--and had then spent the better part of an hour pacing about the bedroom, lecturing and chastising herself into a state of controlled mock-calmness. She would not cry. She could not afford to cry.

Swallowing, she stepped into the study, quick to shut the door behind her. "Sevei?"

Severin's head lurched upward at the sound of the ancient pet-name. It had gone unused for so long that Alina herself was too young to recall it, but Ovrean had told her that in happier times, Lonriad had taken to calling his young second son by a Germanized diminutive as a reference to a journey to Bavaria on which he and King Farilon had once embarked. It was on this journey, according to Ovrean and confirmed by Viridis, that Lonriad had met Laveria.

The name had vanished with his parents' romance, but as it breached her lips, Alina could tell that it still held some sway over her husband. It seemed odd, perhaps, to think of a time when his otherwise-tempestuous childhood had been so blissfully untroubled. Perhaps its invocation had taken him to a peaceful place; if that was the case, she was either kind to grant him a brief sanctuary, or cruel to send him there only to tear him from its pastures. "Alina? I thought you had retired early."

"You'd be wise to do the same," she reminded him. "We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow. I can't even remember why we agreed to spend Christmas with Roderick and Laralita."

"I'm inclined to believe that we were both moderately drunk at the time."

She forced herself to laugh, but found she could not mask its hollow void. "That would make sense."

He turned toward her and frowned; he must have picked up on her forced contentment. "Princess, what's wrong? Are you still feeling nauseous?"

Alina shook her head, cringing at the mere mention of 'nausea'. It was strange to think that she missed it.

"Is there something you need? Is the baby keeping you awake?"

She had told herself she would not cry--so sternly, she had promised herself she would not cry.

But she did.

"I lost it!" she wailed, the moisture bursting through the dam of her lashes. "I--I don't even know how it happened! I just went to change for bed, and..." She trailed off, any words she had wiped away as she brushed aside the tears.

Severin drew nearer, tucking her hair behind her ear as he reached to massage her neck. "Alina..."

"I'm sorry, Sevei," she addressed him once more, though she was unsure as to why she might seek comfort in someone else's obscure sobriquet. "I don't know what I did..."

He pulled her close and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. "It was nothing you did, Princess. Sometimes, these things just--"

"Yes, but not to me!" she sobbed, jerking her head forward so suddenly that her brow ground against his chin; she scarcely even noticed. "Severin, what's happening? I had seven babies in seven years, and now two miscarriages in three months! Am I drying up?"

Hesitating for a moment, he wrapped the fingers of his free hand around her own, a gentle pressure clinging to her bone where their wedding bands met. "No, of course not. Maybe... maybe you didn't miscarry. Maybe you were never even pregnant to begin with--maybe you were just late?"

Alina couldn't decide whether that would have been a preferable scenario, but she supposed it was a moot point. "Severin, it's been like clockwork since I was twelve; besides, I know when I'm pregnant."

He sighed. "There's nothing wrong with you, Princess. Trust me; you'll be cradling a baby again before you know it." He sounded somewhat indulgent, but she would allow him that; some small part of her had feared that he might have been relieved.

Struggling to hold back tears, she sought refuge in his arms. "Can we go to bed? I just want you to hold me while we sleep."

If I can sleep tonight.

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