“And because you know if you wait any longer, you’ll have to go fuck Lieja.” Atlanta’s eyes narrowed and twinkled in the low light.
“You are teasing me, my love.”
“So what if I am?”
“You are not afraid?”
Atlanta set her goblet back down and braced herself against the table. Her shoulders heaved with a sigh.
“I am,” she admitted. “If I’m not pregnant with your baby, then the Rutharian king might be able to get me pregnant with his instead.”
“It will not come to that. Have I not sworn to you as much?”
“Still. If it does happen. If we fail—”
“We have not.” I moved behind her and wrapped my arm around her waist so I could press my hand gently to the place over her stomach. “We will not.”
“If we do, though. I’d be crazy not to be afraid. There’s so much at stake here, Apex. But I’m getting used to being afraid. I think, in a lot of ways, I’ve been afraid of my future for my entire life. Only, back when I was on Earth, I was afraid of such silly things. Having to marry a man I didn’t love. Never seeing the world beyond the sectors. Things like that.”
“And now?”
“And now, I know exactly what we might be able to have if you’re able to pull off whatever crazy bullshit you’re planning to get me out of this mess.” She eased her body back against my chest and reached up to caress my cheek. “We could go anywhere in the universe.”
“In the galaxies, at least.”
“We could be together.”
I smiled. “That has always been my plan, precious one.”
“We’d have a family. A real one. Not some fake, forced thing that would turn me all sour and bitter inside—but something wholesome.”
“You think that what we have been doing in this room for the last two weeks is wholesome?”
“Yes, you dummy. Well. Parts of it, anyway.” She turned to me and raised herself up on her tiptoes for a kiss. I gave it to her—a quick peck, then a deeper, more passionate one. “This isn’t just…rampant horniness, or politicking, or some kind of random fling. This feels…real.”
“Why would it not?”
“So many things in my life have been fake, Apex. My job. My friends. My family. I mean, come on. Even my hair color is fake.” She turned her gaze down to her stomach and brushed the stiff white skirt she wore down, like she was imagining the way her belly would swell and curve if my seed had taken. “Or kind of fake, at least. The baby might have pink hair like me, you know.”
“Or black eyes like mine.” I had never known a specter to produce offspring, but Lady Idria’s entire family had black eyes like mine. There was a good chance it was a genetic trait, one that I might pass on to my daughter or son.
“I guess there’s no way of knowing until…well, until the baby is born. Or isn’t.” She laughed again. “I wish you Lunarians had pregnancy tests or something.”
We do, in a fashion, I nearly said as my gaze wandered to the bowl of fruits next to the water pitcher. Not for our kind…but for yours.
“How do you humans do it?” I asked instead. I did not wish to frighten Atlanta, or give her false hope either. She would play her part best if she did not know if she was pregnant or not until the time was right. But myself…moons, I ached to know the truth. “You have ways of telling these things, I assume?”
“There are natural signs, I’ve heard…but I’ve never been pregnant before, and I don’t have any younger siblings. I don’t know any of them. But we have, um, technology for it, I guess.” Suddenly, her cheeks flushed pink.
“What kind of technology?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Atlanta’s shoulders slumped slightly. Her cheeks went a shade darker. “We. Um. We pee on a stick.”
I held her gaze for a moment, then we both burst into laughter.
“On a stick.” I had to wipe a tear from my eyes as I tried to imagine Atlanta squatting in the woods, a twig positioned beneath her. “Your race will never fail to amaze me, my love.”
“Oh, stop laughing at me and help me with this top.” She swatted my arm, then turned her back to me once more.
“You wish to mate once more before the ceremony?” I glanced at the timepiece over on the bookshelf. “I am not sure we will have time—but if you do not mind me being quick about it—”
“Not what I’m asking for,” she said over her shoulder. “You either laced this corset too tight earlier, or the seamstress got my measurements wrong. My tits feel like they’re about to burst.”
Dutifully, I loosened the laces that crisscrossed Atlanta’s back. But my eyes were not on her lovely body. My gaze strayed to the fruit bowl once more as I weighed the possibility in my mind.
The seamstress that Idria had brought with her was not likely the kind to make mistakes about measurements, and I had been especially careful not to lace the top too tight the first time. Perhaps…
“Better?” I asked, tying the laces once more.
“Ugh. Not really. But I guess it doesn’t matter.” She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably as she turned to me again. “You ready to go?”
“Almost.” I reached for the fruit bowl and plucked a small fruit from it, then offered it to her. “You should eat something first. I have watched you all day, my love. You have not taken a single meal yet.”
“I haven’t been hungry, actually.” She made a face as she stared down at the fruit between my fingers. “Do I have to? I’ve felt kind of sick with nerves these last few days.”
“Just a bite, then.”
Atlanta rolled her eyes at me but leaned forward and took
