"Those flowers scattered throughout Rowen—they came from your mother?" I asked the doctor.
He seemed surprised that I'd noticed. "Your senses are sharp, Duchess. Yes, Madame Elise had particular tastes in flora."
Kaian had learned about flower language—lavender meaning *"waiting for you"* and *"please answer me."* He'd followed in his mother's footsteps with tulips and other blooms, carefully placing them where I'd find them.
*Because I can't say it out loud.*
When I'd confessed my feelings to him in the castle, he'd rejected me. But he was sending flowers anyway—an apology expressed through his mother's language.
The doctor continued his examination. "She's been tired and asked if she needed to do anything. I've instructed her to rest completely."
"Good. No exertion whatsoever," Kaian said, his tone brooking no argument.
The doctor hesitated. "There is one concern. She seems to be experiencing mild shortness of breath. During pregnancy, blood pressure rises and the pulse quickens. If her breathing becomes too shallow..."
"What does that mean for the baby?" Kaian's voice turned sharp.
"The umbilical cord delivers oxygen until birth. If the mother's oxygen levels are compromised, the baby suffers. We may need to consider another buffalo hunt—the elixir from its blood was beneficial before."
"Make certain she's monitored at all times," Kaian commanded.
After the doctor departed, Kaian pulled a cloth bag from beneath his desk—mustard poultices and expensive medicinal herbs, his mother's remedies for everything.
*Grandmother's taste,* I would have said if I'd known.
But he didn't recommend them. Instead, he worked for ten more seconds before abandoning his desk entirely.
---
Kaian found me asleep when he entered the bedroom.
He'd learned that the doctor—and worse, Burbrook—had been visiting frequently. The doctor brought flowers and arranged them in my hair while I smiled. Burbrook brought fresh apples and lingered while we chatted over tea.
The jealousy was irrational and consuming.
I slept deeply, my face peaceful against the pillow. Pregnancy had cured my insomnia, ironically. The doctor said increased sleep meant the baby was growing well.
But Kaian found no comfort in that. These days, I was often asleep when he finally came to the bedroom. I no longer greeted him or welcomed him. The empty space where her warmth should have been made everything feel hollow.
He brushed the hair from my face carefully, his fingers lingering on my cheek.
"You like apples," he murmured.
Like a well-ripened apple with its red skin peeled away—that's how she looked to him. Beautiful and vulnerable.
He stood there watching her sleep, then quietly left to find the butler.
"Bring my work here," he instructed Baron Colon. "I'll work in the study adjacent to her bedroom."
The butler's knowing smile suggested he understood perfectly.
---
## At the Village Tavern
Burbrook urged his ancient donkey faster, but the creature refused to cooperate. He abandoned the cart at the village entrance and hurried to the tavern with suspicious urgency.
Inside, Antjone waited for him in the private room.
"You're late," she said sweetly, her pretty face and round cheeks making her look almost innocent.
"Forgive me, young lady. I was attending to the Duchess."
"Again?" Antjone's eyes sharpened. "Burbrook, tell me honestly. Has the Duchess noticed you?"
His heart raced. "I believe so. Why else would she ask me to visit? Twice this week alone."
"Or perhaps," Antjone mused, "she's finally realized her situation."
"What situation?"
"A marriage to a man obsessed with duty. A lord who visits her bedroom but treats her more as an obligation than a wife." Antjone leaned forward conspiratorially. "Perhaps the Duke realizes that once his heir is born, his marital duties are complete."
Burbrook's chest heaved with excitement. "You mean... the Duke is encouraging my visits?"
"Why else would he allow it?" Antjone smiled. "A lord doesn't permit a mere orchard manager into his wife's private chambers unless he has a purpose."
"He told me he was counting on me to take care of her," Burbrook said triumphantly. "To bring her whatever she needs."
Antjone's expression shifted into something darker—satisfied and cruel.
"Then perhaps," she said slowly, "your opportunity is approaching far sooner than you expected."
Burbrook left the tavern practically floating, completely oblivious to the trap being set.
He had no idea that Antjone was deliberately misrepresenting Kaian's courtesy as permission. No idea that she was using his desire and his stupidity to create a scandal that would destroy Claudel—and in the process, weaken Kaian's position at court.
All he knew was that the Duke, in his own way, had given his blessing.
And when the time came, Burbrook would make his move.
---