“I hope you like them.”
“I’m sure I will. Thank you.”
I move to Edvard and pick the baby up. He coos as I hold him close to my chest, nuzzling his soft hair. Gently, I rock him, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against mine. He’s grown so much since the last time I held him. His chubby cheeks and round tummy make me smile. His little hands reach out to grab my hair. I giggle and pull them away, enjoying the happy gurgles that escape his lips.
Praxis smiles as he watches us. “He likes you.”
“Well, I like him.” Needing a moment longer, I bring Edvard close before lowering him to the basket.
A wave of longing washes over me for a baby of my own. Hector’s baby.
Stop it.
Praxis opens the parchment and discovers the ginger candies inside. He picks up a piece and examines it closely, taking in the bright colors and intricate designs etched into the surface.
“Where did you get these, Sol?” He pops it into his mouth and grins. “It’s delicious.”
“There’s a tiny shop near the butcher.”
“They’re excellent.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” I look around Praxis’ tidy room, wishing I could bring Briley back for him.
“No.” Praxis shakes his head. “You have already done more than enough.”
The baby’s happy gurgles echo in my ears as I leave Praxis’ bedchamber a moment later and walk to the room I share with Hector. I step into my bedchamber and find Hector already there. He pours two goblets of lavender tea and brings one of them to me.
“Thank you.” I take a sip and move to the sofa by the fireplace.
Firelight flares across Hector’s face as he sits next to me, his arm brushing mine as he drinks from his goblet.
After a moment of comfortable silence, I speak. “I was happy to see Edvard with Praxis.”
“Did you visit him?”
“Yes, and I held Edvard.” The words slip out before I think them through.
“Was he happy to see you?”
“The baby?”
Hector nods.
“I think so.”
I grip my goblet and inwardly frown. It was a mistake to talk about Edvard after my conversation the other day with Hector. I hurt him when I wasn’t willing to talk about a baby. He didn’t need to say the words. Even now, I feel the pain of that day, and the choicesImade.
Every day I will have to drink that bitter tea. Otherwise, it will not work.
Desperate for a change of subject, I ask him a question. “What did you do today?”
“I attended a funeral.”
My chest squeezes as I remember the funerals I have attended over the summers. Mother’s. Aniah’s. Kassandra’s. “Whose?”
“The brother of one of my commanders.”
“Do I know them?”
