In Which Jeda Falls Prey to an Idiot's Reasoning

July 1, 1172

While her brother's soft snores could be heard from the other crib, young Princess Lileina was all giggles. The concept of nap time was lost on her; she just wanted to play. Such a sweet little girl she was, or at least in Jeda's opinion.

A pity that she'd probably end up like her mother. Perhaps Jeda would make it her cause to prevent the baby from becoming another Laralita. Such a project might--if nothing else--make life here a little more worthwhile.

Ah, but such thoughts were unbefitting of a princess! Granted, so was everything else she did these days, from running through the halls to wearing her hair loose to putting her little in-laws down for their afternoon rest. She didn't see what the problem was--nothing she'd done since her marriage might have harmed someone, she was sure of it--but no matter what she did, no matter how she behaved, the king and queen remained quietly unsatisfied and Ietrin was as indifferent as always.

And by this point, she growing somewhat indifferent herself. She just wished the process would hurry itself up; she didn't much care for apathy, but anything was better than sheer disappointment.

After a few minutes of squirming under her blanket, Lileina's eyes finally drooped. Jeda kissed her on the forehead, then stepped away from the crib and slumped herself against the wall. She missed Tetran. She missed her twin brother and her little half-siblings and her stepmother. Most of all, she missed her father. More than once had she been tempted to accept his offer, to saddle up her horse and ride across the kingdom, back into the safe haven of his open arms; she might have done so that minute had she known whether or not a ride was a risk for her just now.

She'd never thought she'd yearn for that gloomy, almost dungeon-like castle, its stone walls and its cold tile floors and all the green decor that the eye could handle. Green. She'd never much cared for green as a girl--she saw so much of it every day that she'd tired of it before long--but now, her heart skipped every time she saw the barest hint of it. Green was comfort, and it was love. Green was home.

"Jeda?"

Swamped and resigned, she looked up. It was her husband, and perhaps the last person she wanted to see just then--not that she had seen him at all since she'd closed her eyes the night prior. "Good day, Ietrin."

"Good day." He listened for the sleepy murmurs of his small siblings, then shut the door and gestured the couch. "Might we have a word?"

He didn't have to ask and they both knew it. Jeda dragged herself to the couch and sat. She thought she knew what he wanted to talk about, and while she didn't care to discuss it herself, it was inevitable; it was a battle that was not worth fighting. "Fine. What about?"

"Well," Ietrin began, setting himself down beside her, "correct me if I'm wrong, but it's been quite a while since the servants have had to scrub any blood out of your linens, hasn't it?"

Not sure what else she could do, Jeda frowned. "It's a little early to tell, if you're asking what I think you are."

"But it is possible?" He leaned in a little closer, the smell of Ellona's perfume wafting off his form. A bit of leftover nausea from hours prior wedged itself in Jeda's throat as she nodded, but Ietrin didn't notice. "Good. It's about time, you know--people have been talking."

As if he had to tell her that. Her flat belly had been a source of gossip for months now and she was well aware of that fact; people as a rule were not subtle with their stares and whispers, and this had become even more obvious in her newfound cynicism. What bothered her most, however, were not the pitying looks and the patronizing inquiries about her health, but the fact that ten months of marriage without so much as a bump to show for it was translated unquestioningly by the masses as a problem with her.

Trying to ignore one's feelings made one examine the facts with an almost obsessive scrutiny. Ietrin had been routinely bedding Ellona for nearly a year before he'd married Jeda, and only now did she have a bulge beneath her gown to prove it. Ietrin had been going about his rounds of chambermaids and kitchen girls since his voice had begun to crack and never once had Jeda heard a whisper of some servant's bastard with violet eyes or golden curls. So far as she could tell, there was no proof either way in regards to her fertility; if there was a problem, it seemed more than likely that it had nothing to do with her.

But Jeda had never been a bold girl--at least, not bold enough to insult a prince's virility to his face. "I know."

"Well, at least I have an heir on the way now." He placed his hand on her stomach; she squirmed, but he didn't seem to notice. "That's the important thing. Now, just be careful with him, all right?"

"All right." She didn't know yet whether or not there was an it to be careful with, but she would be careful anyway. She was tired of trembling as he crawled into bed beside her and pushed her nightgown to her waist, climbing between her thighs and telling her he'd try to be quick. She was tired of his grunting and his panting and his almost militant thrusts as the sweat pooled on her brow and she tried to stop herself from crying. She was tired of a lot of things, but if there was something to be careful with, then at least she could have a break from all that.

"Good. I'm glad we have an understanding."

What was there to understand? It was the simplest thing she'd ever heard and he was still treating her like some little child who didn't know any better, still looking at her with that accusing stare that hinted she should have missed a course months ago--as if she could have done anything about it. She was probably fine. Perhaps if she'd had a different husband, she might have fallen asleep on her wedding night with the beginnings of a baby firmly planted within her.

But no one would see her logic. She was a woman, and the wife of the crown prince. As far as anyone was concerned, providing an heir was her only purpose--and if she couldn't do that, then she must have been lacking in all regards. It was the reasoning of an idiot, but it was also the reasoning of the world. So far as the people of Naroni could see, there could be no other excuse for her lack of a child.

At least, no excuse that anyone was willing to accept.

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