“Yes.” She watched the loop two times. “Shit.” It came out almost soundless. “She’s got the same fragile thing going on that Beth had when she was pregnant.”
Since Elena’s sister was terrified of him, Raphael had spent little time with her, but he had seen other pregnant mortals and immortals in his lifetime. And now that Elena had pointed it out, he noted the new delicacy of Michaela’s skin—and the fact that though she was a woman who used her body as a weapon, she’d shown none of it today, her image cut off below the shoulders.
“Michaela may actually be with child,” he said slowly.
“Holy hell.” Elena whistled. “Do you think she was just laying the groundwork when she lied to us? So no one would believe it when it happened?”
Raphael shook his head. “Immortal pregnancies are too rare to be predicted with any accuracy. There is a second possibility.” He thought of how he’d found a wounded Michaela with a glowing red fireball in the bloody cavity where her heart should’ve been. “Whatever it is that Uram did to her, it may be starting to show on the surface.”
“Can we confirm either way?” Elena shook her head almost before the words were out. “If she’s hiding because she’s vulnerable, let’s leave her be.” His consort’s throat moved in a convulsive movement. “I’ll never forget how she looked that night in the Refuge when Sam was taken. I’ve always wondered if it was losing a child that made her so mercenary and heartless.”
Raphael’s heart wasn’t as soft as his consort’s, and he didn’t think motherhood had or would change Michaela, but if she was in fact with child, he hoped the infant would escape being warped by Uram’s poison. “If she is pregnant, it may be another Cascade event,” he said, his mind on Illium’s struggle to hold the deadly levels of power building up in his body.
Elena blew out a breath and leaned against him. “Have you heard from Jason or Naasir?”
Spreading his wing to slide over hers, Raphael nodded. “Jason is safely out of Lijuan’s territory and is carrying a wounded hostage.” A woman who’d been thought long dead. “No word from Naasir and the scholar.”
Elena’s hand curled around his. “It’s Naasir. He can get out of anything.” Fierce belief, but below it was a dark worry.
Thinking of the black ash in Titus’s hand, Raphael knew she was right to worry. Naasir was strong and fast and highly intelligent, but he was currently trapped in the heart of enemy territory, and that enemy did not fight according to any known rules of war.
18
Naasir followed the faint smell of mortal food to a tiny settlement on a riverbank. Only three houses, all spaced generously apart, two with small fishing boats moored to rickety docks in front of the houses.
The farthest house had smoke coming out of the chimney and a neatly tended garden. That house was the source of the cooking and food smells. An old man and woman sat eating from small bowls on the porch of the house next to it. Both were wrinkled like walnuts and appeared as if they’d laughed for a lifetime.
Naasir smiled at seeing them. He would like to laugh a lifetime with his mate.
Turning his attention to the third house, he drew in a breath, caught no fresh scents.