Fantasyland 02 The Golden Dynasty (51 page)

His head came up and his eyes found mine.
When they did, his warmed.

“Baby,” he whispered and my breath hitched
again.

“I killed one and a half men today,” I
whispered back, a tear sliding out of the side of my eye.

His head twitched and he asked, “A
half?”

“Bain cut his head off but I’d already
sliced through his innards, a wound he survived right then but he
wouldn’t survive it for long.”

I watched Lahn’s jaw get hard and I didn’t
know if it was to bite back laughter or a roar of fury.

Then he informed me quietly (and scarily),
“I am glad you did for if you had not, they would have killed you.
The plot was to capture you, take you outside the Daxshee but
murder you close and leave your body for us to find. Instead, they
encountered a warrior queen, her extraordinary pet and guards with
good instincts. As things did not go as they had planned, they
would have needed to execute their plan as best they could and
instead would have killed you in our cham.”

I knew this to be true. The first man had
grabbed me and done it unarmed, probably underestimating me. The
last had not done the same and came at me with a knife.

That scared the shit out of me but I sucked
it up as best I could and nodded.

Then another tear slid out of my left eye
followed by one from my right and I felt my nostrils quiver.

“She betrayed me,” I whispered and Lahn’s
face went soft, his hand lifted to cup the side of my head, his
thumb moving through the wetness at my temple. “Why would she do
that?”

“I do not know,” Lahn answered in his own
whisper.

I sucked in a breath that broke twice on the
way in. “And since she did, why would she put out my dagger… warn
me?”

“I do not know that either, my golden
doe.”

I didn’t either.

I thought of Teetru’s face looking at mine
after I gave her the bangle.

“She was my girl,” I said so softly it was
barely audible, my breath hitched and my vision melted as my body
started shaking with sobs.

“My Circe,” Lahn murmured, rolling off me
but pulling me tight and cradling me close as I cried into his
chest.

Lahn didn’t get the chance to rant about
vengeance. It could be said that I had a tough day so I pretty much
passed out right in the middle of bawling. I didn’t know what he
did.

But later, I woke to feel his weight and
heat, the sheet up to our waists and Ghost asleep at the foot of
the bed.

For that moment, I was safe, my husband was
home and all was well.

So I drifted back to my dreams.

*
Translation:
Bitch

Korwahn

Six weeks later…

It was official.

I was most definitely pregnant.

I spit into the chamber pot then sucked in
breath hoping more would not come up my throat and out my
mouth.

Seriously, I hated puking. And doing it in a
chamber pot made a not very fun activity a lot less fun.

When the nausea subsided and it seemed I had
the all-clear, I moved to the basin, poured some water from a jug
on a cloth, wiped my mouth, rinsed the cloth, wiped my face and
rinsed it again. Then I rinsed my mouth with water and grabbed the
thin, split branch that Jacanda had given me to brush my teeth and
tongue. I used that, rinsed again, grabbed the cloth and folded it
as I wandered out of the bathroom type um… room.

Lahn was in bed, on his side, silk sheet up
to his waist, elbow in the pillow, eyes on me.

My really not so little anymore tigress was
lounging on a big, fluffy, hide-covered pad in the corner, her pink
tongue licking a bone.

My stomach roiled as the nausea returned and
my eyes moved back to Lahn.

Even nauseous, it wasn’t lost on me my
husband was hot.

It was just that with morning sickness, I
was in no mood to do anything about it.

I went to the bed, pulled back the sheet,
lifted a leg and collapsed on my back, head to the pillows. I
pulled the sheet up and slapped the folded, cool cloth over my
eyes.

I felt Lahn’s heat against my side then I
felt his large hand on my belly.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” he murmured. “If you
carry a golden daughter in your womb, she would not be so rough on
you.” I felt him get closer and knew I was right when his soft
voice came at my ear and his hand pressed gently at my belly before
he whispered, “I believe we made a warrior, my doe.”

“I don’t care what it is, just as long as
you’re happy with it because it’s the only one you’re gonna get,
big guy,” I muttered back and heard him chuckle in my ear but felt
his mouth leave that area after it brushed skin.

Nice move and I loved to hear Lahn’s
amusement.

But I was not being amusing.

I lifted one side of my cloth so I could
slide my eyes to him to see he was still grinning and I informed
him, “I’m not kidding. I don’t like puking as in,
really
don’t like it.”

I watched his eyebrows go up in a face that
was still smiling. “Puking?”

“
Hurling, calling Buick, heaving, throwing
up, vomiting,
puking.
”

He chuckled again.

I found nothing funny.

I dropped the cloth and announced, “After
this, birth control all the way.”

Through another chuckle I heard Lahn ask,
“Birth what?”

“
Birth
control
. After little Lahn or little Lahnahsahna makes his or her
entry into this world, you’re sheathing your sword, big
guy.”

An amused but confused, “Sheathing my
sword?”

I lifted the cloth again, glared at him then
moved my glare down to the area being discussed and just to make
certain he got it, I gave a little nod in that direction.

He got it. I knew it when he roared with
laughter.

Again, I found nothing funny.

I dropped the cloth and tried not to let his
big body shaking the bed make me hurl.

Finally, he quieted his humor but remarked,
“I’ve heard of this practiced in the Northlands. We do not practice
the same in the Southlands, my queen.”

“Well, you’re going to be a trendsetter,” I
returned on a mutter.

“Trendsetter?”

“Setting the fashion, being the first.”

His hand still at my belly slid up, curled
around my breast and his voice was partly amused, partly serious
when he informed me. “I’ll not have anything between me and my
golden queen.”

I opened my mouth to say something smart but
he kept talking as his hand slid back to my belly.

“And we will have many children, many
warriors to serve Suh Tunak, many golden princesses so their father
can behold your beauty on more than your face.”

That was sweet and all,
really
sweet but… I did not
think
so.

“That’s sweet, Lahn, but I’m being very
serious.”

“
Then I will be serious as well and tell
you I will not use these…
things.
”

“Then you’ll pull out before the festivities
culminate. It isn’t full proof but it’ll be something,” I
muttered.

Suddenly, the cloth was gone and Lahn’s face
was in mine, his big body looming over me and I noticed immediately
he no longer thought anything was funny either.

“I will not spend my seed on your skin.”

Uh-oh.

I stared in his face and knew I said
something very, very wrong.

“Lahn –”

“
A warrior’s seed is his essence; it is the
future of Suh Tunak. It is not wasted unless used to deliver the
worst insult he can give or released on the body of a Xacto.
Traitors, enemy warriors weak enough to get captured alive, spies
foolish enough to be detected,
they
receive wasted seed. And a warrior does not plant his seed
in Xacto and you, my golden queen, are
not
Xacto.”

Okay, it was safe to say this conversation
had taken a drastic turn down a road I did
not
want to go. So I had to detour us,
pronto.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He glared at me. Then he clipped,
“Okay.”

“I, uh… didn’t know,” I said quietly.

“Now you do.”

I sure did.

I lifted a hand to cup his bearded jaw and
whispered, “I’m sorry, baby. I won’t speak of it again. I just
really don’t like being sick.”

“
I don’t like it either. It means I cannot
take your xaxsah in the mornings. I
like
to take your xaxsah in the mornings. What I do
not
like is having to wait until
the evening.”

Hmm. Clearly my apology hadn’t put him in a
better mood.

So I sought to better his mood and suggested
softly, “How about you try to take my xaxsah with your lisa and
we’ll see how it goes.”

“I do not wish courting you being sick with
my mouth between your legs, Circe.”

Okay, well, that didn’t work.

I rolled into him, fighting the nausea as I
ran my hand down his chest and then wound an arm around his back,
whispering, “Lahn –”

Suddenly, he pulled in breath through his
nose and he did this so sharply, I shut up.

When he expelled it, his eyes locked with
mine and he whispered, “We ride on Maroo in two days.”

I closed my eyes and tipped my head
forward.

I knew this and I didn’t want to talk about
it. Not then, not ever. I’d be living it soon enough.

A second later, I felt his lips on my
forehead so my eyes opened to see the beautiful column of his
throat.

Against my skin, he said, “We could be on
campaign a month or we could be on campaign a year. And you will be
here and I will not.”

All right, he wasn’t pissed about the birth
control discussion, he was worried. That was good. What was bad
was, for my husband, I needed to talk about this and I didn’t want
to.

“I’ll be okay,” I said gently.

“I know you will be okay.” His hand again
pressed into my belly and I felt his mouth move from my forehead so
I tipped my head back to catch his eyes. “But every day, he or she
grows in you and this I will not see. You will grow heavy and I
will not be here to watch your beauty bloom to be even more
beautiful. And he or she could come and I will not be here to cut
the connection and be the first being they gaze upon so they will
know their father.”

“They’ll know you, honey, even if you’re not
here. They’ll know.”

He stared down at me in mild affront, his
brows drawn. “I must be at the birth. It must be me who pulls him
from your womb. The first being a child must see, Circe, is their
father. The first touch they must feel is the touch of their
father. Their connection to their mother is established for months,
their father must have those to establish
his.
”

Wow, that was beautiful. But as beautiful
as it was, I was hoping for someone like a midwife who would “pull
him from my womb”. Even the midwife serving a savage, primitive
horde. My guess was my husband hadn’t handled or even attended very
many births (as in,
none
) and she’d
likely have experience I might need.

You know, just in case.

I decided it was wise not to share this.

Instead I sighed. Then I gave him a
squeeze.

Then I said, “Well, you better kick some
Maroo ass, baby, then get
yours
home to me…” I paused then whispered, “S
afe
.”

His eyes roamed my face for long moments
before his lips twitched up.

“This is the plan,” he muttered.

I grinned at him.

He grinned back.

Then it faded and he whispered, “I must
go.”

I nodded and waited. Then it came, his hand
at my jaw, his thumb sweeping my cheekbone and his eyes wandering
my face with such intensity it was like he was trying to burn the
vision of it in his brain.

This happened every morning right before he
left me since the day after the attack. This, I guessed (but did
not ask), was an indication of a psychological wound he endured
while riding hard to get to me after learning of a plot to murder
me that included a traitor in his very own cham. Then arriving home
to have his first vision of me being a me covered in blood. It was
clear this had marked him deeply. And although it was a beautiful
thing to think the very idea of my loss could wound him so
severely, I hated that that wound was there.

I just didn’t know what to do about it.

So I did the only thing I knew to do. I
pressed into him and smiled brightly.

Then I suggested, “How about this,
I
take
your xac
in
my lisa
when you
get home tonight.”

The intensity in his eye shifted, then
faded, then returned in a different way, then his arm curled around
me and he pulled me deeper.

“You just made me a promise, kah bahsah,” he
growled.

I pushed slightly up and, against his mouth,
I whispered, “I won’t renege, kah bahsan.”

His eyes held mine for a heartbeat before
his head slanted and he kissed me, deep and wet and I was really
glad I used that twig.

When my toes had curled and my nipples had
gone hard and I realized that I didn’t feel at all like throwing up
in his mouth, he released my lips, lifted up, kissed my forehead
and then he maneuvered his big body over mine and out of the bed.
Then I watched over my shoulder as his fabulous body with his
seriously fine ass walked to the bathroom-ish style room.