MORNING LIGHT

CHAPTER 47

Breakfast tasted different that morning.

Not the food, but the ease of it. Roman's fingers brushed mine over the teapot without either of us pretending the contact was accidental. Somewhere during the night, we'd stopped hiding, even from ourselves.

I kept catching myself looking at him.

He kept catching me.

Neither of us seemed particularly interested in stopping.

"Did you sleep?" he asked.

"Like the dead."

"Poor choice of phrase."

"Like a very peaceful log."

"Better."

He poured my tea. Two sugars, no milk.

"Are you hungry? Do you want eggs? Something warmer?"

"I have toast."

"One piece."

"It's a large piece."

"It's a small piece." He nudged the butter toward me. "I could ask the kitchen to send up porridge."

"Roman."

"Or fruit."

"Roman."

"Fruit is excellent for"

"Has being in love with me turned you into a personal breakfast supervisor?"

His mouth twitched.

"I'm making sure you're comfortable."

"I'm pregnant, not incapable of deciding what I want to eat."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"Yes." He set down the teapot. "I'm fussing."

"A little."

"A lot."

"A medium amount."

"I'm learning," he said gravely. "Give me a week."

"I'll give you three days."

"Generous."

"I'm told I'm very forgiving."

"By whom?"

"A man who was completely wrong about toast."

He laughed, a real one, low and warm, and I felt the sound settle in my chest like sunlight on a floor.

For a moment, I simply watched him.

Last night, the warmth had moved through our bond like a second heartbeat. Neither of us understood it, and we hadn't tried to force an explanation out of something we couldn't name.

I wondered whether it would happen again.

As if he'd followed my thoughts, Roman glanced down at our joined hands.

"Have you felt anything unusual this morning?"

I lowered my voice. "You mean the warmth?"

He nodded.

"Not since I woke up."

"Neither have I."

"Do you think we should tell Sable?"

"We agreed we would."

"Then we will."

He brushed his thumb over my knuckles.

"I don't want to turn every moment between us into an investigation, Mira. But I don't want to ignore something that might matter to you, either."

"That sounds suspiciously reasonable."

"I'm capable of it occasionally."

"Don't let the council hear. You'll ruin your reputation."

His smile widened.

A maid entered carrying a fresh tray. She paused for barely a second when Roman reached for my hand across the table, then set the tray down and busied herself with the cups.

"Thank you, Anna," he said.

"Of course, Alpha."

She glanced at our joined fingers and smiled at the sugar bowl before leaving.

"She knows," I murmured.

"Everyone knows."

"Since when?"

"Since last night, probably."

He didn't release my hand.

"I don't expect it to stay a secret."

"You don't mind?"

"I mind the thought of you feeling you have to hide." He turned my hand over, his thumb tracing my palm. "I won't make an announcement. But I'm not going to pretend we're strangers, either."

"I like sitting beside you," I admitted. "Without wondering who'll misinterpret it."

"You never should have had to wonder."

His voice softened.

"I'm sorry you did."

I squeezed his hand.

"You're making up for it."

"I'm trying."

"You're succeeding."

"Don't tell my steward. He'll expect results."

I laughed.

For once, the future didn't feel like a question waiting to hurt me. It was still uncertain, but I no longer felt compelled to prepare for the worst every time something good happened.

I left Roman half an hour later with a quick, unplanned kiss on his cheek.

He looked so startled that I nearly kissed him again just to see the expression return.

Nearly.

I had barely reached the east corridor when I found Tessa leaning against the wall with the expression of a cat who'd been handed the keys to the dairy.

"Don't," I said.

"Don't what?"

"Whatever that is."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're grinning."

"I'm standing."

"You rearranged the morning."

"Did I?"

"The steward's budget meeting was supposed to be at nine. It's been moved to two. My fitting got pushed back, and someone cleared the east stairs again."

"Coincidence."

"Tessa."

"Perhaps someone noticed you two deserved a quiet morning."

My face warmed.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not asking."

"I didn't need to."

She pushed away from the wall and fell into step beside me.

"You look different."

"I do not."

"You do. You walked into breakfast like a woman who'd stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I'm not"

"Mira. You smiled at a sugar bowl."

"It was a nice sugar bowl."

"You're hopeless."

"I know."

I bit my lip, but the smile escaped anyway.

"Things are different," I admitted.

"Good different?"

"The best kind."

Tessa squeezed my arm.

"I've watched you two circle each other for months. I'd have bribed someone to make you talk if this had gone on much longer."

"Who?"

"Anyone."

"Tessa."

"I'm serious." She grinned. "Go. Be happy. I'll handle the east wing."

I left her before she could say anything else.

For once, I didn't feel the need to argue.

I found Roman again that afternoon in the sitting room, studying a map beside a cup of tea he'd apparently forgotten existed.

I sat on the arm of his chair.

He didn't look up, but his hand found my knee.

"Are you tired?"

"No."

"You've been on your feet since breakfast."

"I've been on a sofa since lunch."

"Do you want a cushion?"

"I don't need a cushion."

"I can get one."

"Roman."

He finally put down the map.

"I'm still learning how to care for you without hovering."

"I know."

"Tell me when I'm doing it."

"Gladly."

"I'm serious. I don't want you to feel managed."

"I don't." I tilted my head. "I feel looked after. There's a difference."

"What's the difference?"

"When I tell you no, you stop."

"I do."

"Eventually."

"Eventually," he conceded.

I laughed and slid into his lap before I'd thought about it.

His arms closed around me automatically, as if they'd always known where I'd land.

For a moment, I simply rested against him.

"It's strange," I said.

"What is?"

"An ordinary day."

"Is it?"

"After everything. The council, the letters, the envoy." I traced a button on his collar. "I keep waiting for someone to walk in with bad news."

"Do you want me to promise it won't happen?"

"No. I'd know you were lying."

"Then I'll tell you what I can promise."

I looked up.

"Today, nobody has walked through that door with bad news. I'd like to enjoy that for as long as it lasts."

"Me too."

"So we will."

"For the afternoon?"

"For the afternoon."

We stayed like that, quietly, until the clock struck four.

The knock at the door was polite.

A messenger stood in the doorway, holding a folded note.

"A message from the healer, Alpha."

Roman took it and read it in a glance.

Then he passed it to me.

Alpha Draven, Miss Vale. Please attend me in the infirmary at your earliest convenience. A follow-up appointment, brought forward.

Sable.

I read it twice.

"Brought forward," I said.

"Yes."

"My appointment isn't until next week."

"It isn't."

"Why would she change it?"

"I don't know."

I looked at him.

He didn't immediately offer reassurance or tell me it was nothing.

Instead, he studied the note again.

"She may want to review your pregnancy or discuss the bond sensation we experienced last night," he said. "But those are possibilities, not answers."

"She's never moved an appointment before."

"Then I agree it's unusual."

My fingers tightened around the paper.

"Do you think something is wrong?"

"I don't know, Mira."

His voice remained calm, but his expression had grown more serious.

"I'm not going to tell you everything is fine when I don't have the information to know that."

The honesty unsettled me more than a comforting lie would have.

But I appreciated it.

"I don't want to spend the evening guessing," I said.

"Then let's go."

"Now?"

"Now."

He stood and offered me his hand.

I took it.

"You aren't going to tell me to stay here while you find out what she wants?"

"No." He paused. "I might have suggested that a few weeks ago."

"You absolutely would have."

"I'm trying not to make that mistake again."

I rose to my feet.

"Good. Because you're coming in with me."

"If you'll let me."

"I will."

We left the sitting room together.

As we reached the corridor, Roman took my hand and squeezed it once, firm and steady.

"Whatever she tells us," he said, "we face it together."

I held on to those words as we walked toward the infirmary.

I didn't know why Sable had brought the appointment forward. I didn't know whether the strange warmth in our bond was connected to my bloodline, my pregnancy, or something neither of us had considered.

But I knew one thing.

Whatever waited behind the infirmary doors, I wouldn't be facing it alone.

And for the first time, I wasn't afraid to find out.