Homecoming is bittersweet and doesn’t last long. For a group of people who have never shown themselves to be cowardly in the least, we sure get out of Castle Sinta as fast as we can. Home somehow doesn’t feel like home anymore when Anatole’s leathery face is creased with loss and Nerissa’s eyes are red-rimmed from crying.
The fact that we came back without two of their daughters doesn’t help. Staying in Sinta any longer would be pointless anyway since they immediately begin to pack. Castle Tarva is about to get invaded—by parents—and we’re the escort back.
Egeria, who’s shortly going to find herself managing western Thalyria alone, holds herself together admirably, and my respect for her grows. She agrees with and adds to Griffin’s and my suggestions, our many detailed conversations together reinforcing how competent and practical they both are, especially my husband. Hearing him lay out plans for integrating Sinta and Tarva makes me realize I’m like a foundation and a roof, important at the beginning and at the end. Griffin is the house in between.
As we all gather in the courtyard and prepare to depart Castle Sinta on the first day I haven’t seen anyone crying—yet—I turn to Egeria and say, “I’m sorry we’re leaving you alone.”
She smiles like that’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever said to her. The terrible fact is, it might be.
“Sinta has been peaceful for months now,” she replies, seeming wholly confident. “The Ipotane will hopefully block any Fisan threat soon, and there’s still part of the army here.”
A small part. The rest is leaving with us, moving east to join the forces we’ve already begun amassing in Tarva. But it wasn’t her safety I was worried about.
“That’s not what I meant. I hope you won’t be too lonely.” She’s used to being surrounded by a large family. There’ll be no one left.
Her dove-gray eyes soften. “I’m not alone. Lenore is here.”
Lenore? I search my memory. “Jocasta’s maid?”
Egeria blushes and ducks her head. “Not just Jocasta’s maid.”
Oh. Oh! My eyes widen. Probably not Jocasta’s maid at all anymore. “That’s wonderful,” I say, almost voluntarily hugging her. The sudden impulse fades before I actually get my arms up, but Egeria takes matters into her own hands and gives me a hearty squeeze.
“Why are you so pale?” Nerissa asks me after Egeria lets me go. She moves closer and inspects my face like she’s already concocting a recipe for a vile-tasting medicinal soup that’ll not only cure my lack of color but probably put hair on my chest, too. “You have shadows under your eyes, and your lips are practically white. Are you sick? I have herbal tonics I could fetch before we leave.”
Nerissa’s tonics smell like mud, barn, and goat manure. There’s no way I’m drinking that. My stomach roils, and not just because of the threat of Nerissa’s medicine. Little Bean has proven to me more than once over the last several days that she is not, in fact, done making me throw up.
“I’m not sick,” I answer. Although lately, it feels a lot like I am.
Egeria gasps. “You’re pregnant!” Her expression lights up in a way I didn’t know was possible, turning her into a beauty to almost rival her younger sisters.
I wasn’t going to announce the news now, here, like this, but I nod, since Egeria has already guessed anyway and looks like she could suddenly dance in place. Beside her, Nerissa’s face positively glows for the first time since we’ve been back. Grinning, Griffin’s mother folds me into a soft, herb-scented embrace.
Her delighted voice is soft in my ear. “Thank you for giving me my first grandchild. You’ll be a wonderful mother, Cat.”
Nerissa rocks me a little in her enthusiasm, shifting my balance to and fro. I hold on to her, powerless to stop it. Actually, I don’t want to.
My heart expands almost painfully in my chest. Coming from the woman who secretly made me want to crawl into her lap the first time I saw her, those heartfelt words mean a lot. They also make me feel achingly fragile inside. Will I make a good mother? I don’t know how to handle a child. Half the time, I hardly know how to handle myself.
Off to the side, I hear Anatole gruffly congratulating Griffin and pounding him on the back. Griffin says something equally gruff in response, but all I keep thinking is that Nerissa said the one thing I needed to hear above all else. Now I just need to believe it myself.
I pull back from Nerissa’s arms and catch both Bellanca and Ianthe staring at us from atop their horses. The twin disbelieving expressions on their faces are almost comical, but I don’t laugh, because really, it’s not at all funny. They already know I’m pregnant. It’s the warm hug that’s taken them so thoroughly aback. I understand their astonishment, but if anyone can teach them that parental affection is possible, it’s Nerissa and Anatole. It might be a slow process. I’m still learning myself.
Already mounted, Carver ambles up alongside Bellanca and Ianthe. “Blink, ladies. Chins off the ground. Especially you, Bellanca. I can see halfway down your throat. I know it comes as a complete shock, but yes, Cat does know how to hug.” He winks in my direction. “Almost.”
I refrain from a rude hand gesture, because Nerissa would scold me. Kato and Flynn chuckle as they finish readying their horses.
Ianthe’s green eyes brighten with humor, and I love her even more. She’s unbreakable. Does Elpis get an Elpis? Or two? Because along with Griffin, I think she’s mine.
In typical Bellanca fashion, the redhead lifts her switch and bashes Carver over the head with it. He yelps in surprise, and maybe some pain, and then glares at her like he’s seriously considering knocking her off her horse. Or pulling her hair. Given half a chance, the two of them would brawl like urchins in an alley. Luckily, Carver still has some control over his physical impulses, despite consuming a truly worrisome amount of wine lately.
He opens his mouth, and I’m curious to hear what he’ll say, but Nerissa beats him to the verbal punch with something I’m guessing will set Bellanca even more firmly on her ass.
“Bellanca!” Nerissa calls out sharply. “Is that how a young lady behaves?”
The Tarvan ex-princess’s face goes stark white. Then bright red. “He’s unbearable!”
“Men often are,” Nerissa responds philosophically.
“But he’s always needling me!”
“Rise above,” Nerissa and I say at the same time. We turn to each other and laugh, and the sudden twinkle in Nerissa’s eyes goes a long way toward healing the guilt I feel over Piers’s permanent exile.
Bellanca looks like she’s been swallowed by a whirlpool and spit out in Atlantis with no idea which way is up or down. Her eyes are huge and confused. Her mouth still gapes. I think she has a lot to say, but for once, she’s actually questioning the wisdom of blurting it all out.
The second Nerissa turns her attention away, Carver gives Bellanca an epic smirk. Bellanca’s eyes narrow, zeroing in on the smug turn of his lips like she’s perfectly capable—and willing—to rip his mouth right off his face with her bare hands. Carver stops smiling and gets out of reach.