August 19, 1176
Camaline had never cared for Sparron's bedroom and made no secret of the fact. 'Too drafty,' she'd claim, or 'Too bare' or 'Too small'. Fair enough; she had her own chambers, and on the off-chance they spent the night together, the understanding was that it would be in her bed. She checked up on him every so often, but she'd usually just stand at the foot of the bed and look him over; if she was joining him, then she wanted to talk about something. "Husband.""Wife." She smirked; after five years, they'd taken the conventions of an upper-class marriage and spun them into a series of private jokes. "You're home early."
"My stepmother returned from Garrett and Elhina's a little sooner than anticipated; you'll understand that I didn't care to linger." Fair enough. "My father was enough to endure on his own today."Sparron frowned. As far as he was concerned, that was nothing remarkable, but it was a different thing entirely for Camaline. Yes, the king was a pompous windbag, but he was still her father; what could he have done to drive her away from a mere afternoon visit? "Did something happen?"
"Only if you call the observation that we've been married for five years and still don't have a child 'something'."
Hmm. In all honesty, he couldn't say he was surprised. His own father and stepmother seemed a bit troubled about that as well--or at least, so he could guess from all the glances at Camaline's stomach and the inquiries about their relationship--but they were too polite to say anything outright. Camaline's parents had always been pushier; in hindsight, some point-blank question had been inevitable. "I take it there's been no change on your front?"
She shook her head. "You think I wouldn't have told you if there had been?"
"No, of course not."This was ridiculous. Camaline didn't even want children. Nor did Sparron, for that matter, or at least not anymore--not if he was going to pass along what his mother had given him. He had two little brothers, his stepmother's boys, neither of whom were at risk for the illness so far as he knew; they could be his heirs as far as he was concerned. It would probably be better that way.
Not that logic was the king's strong suit. Poor Camaline. "I don't know what we can do, then."
"There's nothing we can do." Her resignation was obvious, but regardless she still sounded upset, hurt. Her very purpose had been questioned by an idiot who knew nothing about anything she was going through. Must've been so tough, being a woman; all these years and no one had ever assumed it was his problem. "Not unless there really is a stork."
A hollow laugh rang from her mouth, but even in its contempt it never made it to her eyes. He would have reached over and embraced her if either of them had been the type who cared for hugs.NEXT CHAPTER:
