Chapter 10

At the end of March the army came back to rest and resupply. Rowan was worn down. We didn't have much time together but I sat in on the war councils just to be in the same room with him and we walked the walled gardens together. I'd sent him letters every day so he knew that I was 'well enough'. I remember sitting with him late on one of those in-between evenings. The baby was squirming inside of me and pushing actively against me from within. I took his hand and placed it on my belly. The baby had been kicking for weeks but that was the first time that I had been able to let Rowan feel it, that we had been able so share it. He smiled softly and placed his other hand on my belly and waited for more of the tiny movements. I had whispered later that night in the dark, softly so that no one else could possibly overhear me, “When all of this is over I will abdicate the throne and you and I and our wee sweet babe can run away together, and just be happy.”

Rowan didn't answer but pulled me close and breathed into my hair, but the next morning when we woke he told me as he so often did when he had the chance, “You're my morning glory you know. Waking up with you is like stepping out into a new, warm, sunlit day and seeing them bloom. The blue and pink ones, the ones that bloom along the road that leads home.”

I felt so guilty then, for my tears. I wanted to stay strong for him. He had enough on his shoulders.

Three days later, in the hour or two before he had to leave, we walked in the gardens where spring was making its first timid advances after the terrible winter. He put his arms around me and stroked my hair. “I hate this so much,” he whispered. “I hate seeing you like this.” He meant seeing me fall apart. “Will you promise me something?”

“What?” I asked.

“If I die, and my body is recovered . . . Promise me that you won't look at it.” He took my face in his hands. “Promise me? I can't bear the idea of you seeing me like that. That's not how I want you to remember me. I want you to remember me alive and loving you.” He wiped the tears off my cheeks then whispered, “Promise me.”

My voice cracked when I spoke. “I promise but please my love, please . . . stop talking this way. I can't stand it.”

He put his arms around me and held me for a half hour or so then he said, his voice steadier, “I must go. I should be back by tomorrow night.” Then he kissed me and walked away and I went back to pacing my grey halls, my hands on my growing belly.