A Futile Loop

15 August, 1371. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten

It turned out Celia wasn't being poisoned. But when reality finally hit her square between the eyes, she began to wonder if poison would've been less of a potential disaster.

She was almost certain she was with child again.

Dammit.

She tried to convince herself it was impossible, that it had to be something else that was making her feel so ill. But every day that passed only served to force the obvious more and more down her throat.

Not only was she nauseous in the mornings, but her breasts were tender again in that familiar way. She also felt a constant, bone deep tiredness and certain smells turned her stomach.

Dammit.

She was pregnant.

And as far as everyone else was concerned, it had to be with the king's child again.

The very same king that she hadn't let back in her bed since she'd finished her last confinement. How was she going to explain this one away?