Not Romantic at All

7 October, 1371. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten

It had been just over a week since she'd last spoken to Lucas. And what a long, lonely week it had been.

Celia was unhappy without him. She was also still fighting nausea and the tightly laced gown with the topaz dotted bodice that she was wearing that day, was pressing uncomfortably against her ribs.

At this point, if I didn't have my delightful little boys, I'd have no reason to rise from my bed every morning, she thought grumpily. Everything is upsetting me, everything is an effort.

She was in Gabriel's nursery, seated in a soft armchair and with the small boy curled on her lap like a kitten, fast asleep. She sang a lullaby as she admired his exquisite little profile. His long lashes curled and rested on the tops of his cheeks.