At first, Raclin seemed as happy about the baby as she was. She treasured the slow smile that had spread across his face when she and Ilissa gave him the news, after Nora had almost fainted at the old cemetery. “That’s my good girl,” he said, exchanging a look with Ilissa. Nora would have preferred to tell him herself, the two of them alone, but Ilissa was obviously burning with excitement, and she had a sort of authority in the matter: It was she who, laying a long-fingered hand on Nora’s abdomen, had declared definitively that Nora was pregnant.
Nora herself had been startled by the discovery. Somehow, during all those nights in Raclin’s arms, she had put out of her mind how babies are made, had never once thought about using protection, although she had always been so careful in the past. Of course, she and Raclin were married, but this was so quick to be having a baby; she and Raclin had hardly had any married life together yet.
She almost said something along those lines to Ilissa, but when she met Ilissa’s gaze, the words vanished. Ilissa’s blue-green eyes were so full of anticipation, even hunger, that Nora felt a shock of concern. Then it came to her how thrilling to be carrying Raclin’s baby inside her body, how wonderful it would be to raise his child. That was why she had married him, wasn’t it? So that their lives would be intertwined, so that they could take on the intimate, important work of creating a family. She was content—no, blissfully satisfied to be carrying out her appointed function.
But meanwhile, even before Nora started to look pregnant, there was a sudden end to lovemaking in the big, canopied bed. Raclin now went to sleep immediately, or worse, he let Nora retire early—she got sleepy well before midnight now—while he stayed out for most of the night. In the morning, there would only be the imprint of his head in the pillow to show that he had been there at all.
At first Nora pouted, then she dropped hints, and finally one night she told him point-blank that she was lonely, she missed him, and she was sure that sex during pregnancy wouldn’t hurt the baby. Raclin took a long swallow of wine, tilting the goblet up so that she couldn’t see his expression.
“Darling?” she entreated.
Raclin lowered the goblet and licked his lips. “Such a pretty face,” he said, leaning closer to her. “A pretty, pretty face. I wonder what our baby will look like?”
“Just like you, I hope, darling,” Nora said. “In every way.”
He laughed. “I should warn you, I was not an easy child to raise. A complete hellion.” Nora imagined a small Raclin, face and hands dirty, eyes bright. She laughed, too.
“My mother hopes that it will take after you more than me,” he said. Nora felt a stirring of indignation—how could Ilissa be so critical of her own son?—but Raclin only laughed again. “Good night to you and the baby, whoever it looks like.”
“You’re not coming up now?”
“No. There will be other nights, my dear. I promise not to shirk my marital responsibilities, when it’s time for me to fulfill them again.”
“What do you mean?” she said. “When will that be?” He was already moving away. He looked back to wink at her, then raised his arm to hail someone across the room.
Slowly her fears crystallized: He was having an affair. She watched him as he mingled with Ilissa’s guests, or had Moscelle watch him when she could not stand it anymore. It was true that Raclin didn’t seem to single any woman out for special attention, but perhaps that was a subterfuge. Moscelle proved to be an unexpectedly sympathetic ally. Without unduly encouraging Nora’s suspicions, she did not dismiss them, either. Infidelity was part of the natural order of things, Moscelle gave Nora to understand, so it was better to face facts and be realistic instead of trying to pretend that one’s beloved, no matter how perfect, would never stray. Gaibon, for instance, had been crazy for Moscelle not so long ago, but then he had gotten himself entangled with that little black-haired slut Tinea.
Everything would be fine once the baby arrived, Nora told herself. Raclin would adore the child, and his old passion would return once she got her figure back. And she would have the baby to console her.
Now Raclin was nowhere to be seen, either on the lawn or in the crowded ballroom. Nora shifted her weight on her small gilded chair, trying to find a more comfortable position and spot her husband without being too obvious.
“Darling, I brought you some ice cream. It’s strawberry, your favorite!” Moscelle said, handing her a small golden bowl.
“Well.” Moscelle pursed her lips. “I wasn’t sure whether to tell you, but since you ask, I just saw him standing on the terrace with Oon.”
Oon—Nora had seen her not so long ago, twirling neatly in the dance, light as a leaf in a green dress that was cut a shade tighter than the other women’s.
“They were standing
Nora stood up. “You mean—what?”
Moscelle shrugged gracefully. “Men can be so awful.”
“I have to see him,” Nora said, taking a deep breath. “Right now.” She gathered up her skirt and turned to leave the balcony.
“Nora, darling, where are you going?” Ilissa was standing in the door, looking at Nora with a half- smile.
“Oh, Ilissa, I—” Nora floundered. “It’s lovely to see you, but I have to go.”
“What’s wrong, darling? Your pretty face is all pink. Calm down, sweet. It’s not good for the baby for you to be so upset.”
Thinking about the baby made it all the worse. Nora burst into sudden, violent tears. Behind Ilissa, a few dancers looked at her curiously.
“Nora, darling!” Ilissa clamped an arm around Nora’s shoulder. “Let’s not make a scene.”
Sobbing, Nora felt a mild jolt, like a hiccup, and the ballroom music and the noise of the crowd abruptly ceased. When she looked up, she and Ilissa and Moscelle was standing in the white-and-gold splendor of her bedroom. “How did we get here?” Nora asked, bewildered.
“You need a little time to recover yourself,” Ilissa said firmly. She looked inquiringly at Moscelle.
“Nora’s feeling a bit emotional—” Moscelle began.
“I can see that. What set this off?”
Moscelle hesitated, and then said quickly, “I saw Raclin kissing Oon on the terrace, and I thought Nora should know.”
Nora launched into a fresh round of sobs. “Raclin doesn’t love me anymore,” she gulped. “He hates me. He never talks to me, he never touches me, and now he’s with Oon!”
“Darling, calm yourself.” Ilissa’s voice was as soft as cat’s fur. “I know you’re upset, and Raclin really has been a bit naughty, but there’s no sense in getting hysterical over a silly little flirtation. You mustn’t take this so seriously.”
“But he’s my husband!”
“Exactly!” Ilissa said, patting Nora’s cheek. “He’s your husband. He’s married to you, not to Oon.”
“He shouldn’t be kissing her, then.”
“Well, he’s certainly not going to kiss you if you’re a sopping, hysterical mess, will he, dear? Men get distracted sometimes—and women can never keep away from my Raclin, anyway. But he’ll always come back to you in the end. I wouldn’t let him do otherwise.”
“I don’t want him to be distracted.”
“Darling, I know, but please be reasonable. It’s not good for you to be so emotional right now. We all want this baby to be healthy and happy and perfect, don’t we?”
“Oh, the baby—” Nora said, choking back a sob. “You just care about the baby! It’s like what those men said, the soldier and the wizard, what they said about breeding—”
“What did they say?” Ilissa asked sharply.
“Something about you breeding your cub. I—I don’t know.”
Ilissa gave a small, impatient exhalation. “You need to get some rest, Nora.” She went over to the bed, turned down the covers, and patted the sheets in a way that reminded Nora of how one might show a dog where
