Steel Rose

Chapter 60

I scoff. Ptolemus and Elane fond. Maybe accepting. Maybe comfortable. Maybe. "No, definitely not." 

Carmadon sighs. "What a complicated family." 

I giggle as Darcy begins to stir from his nap. "Yes, us Nortan silvers do enjoy our," I pause, "complicated lives." 

Carmadon raises an eyebrow, "Oh?" 

Darcy opens his eyes and yawns but surprisingly doesn't whine or cry for milk. He blinks up at me, dark orbs concentrated on my features. "We must," I say. "Because we certainly do have the power to change the way we live our lives." Who's to say strong children cannot be born to two people who love each other. 

Carmadon tilts his head to the side as he strokes a vine. "I see. Completely understandable. I suppose even in your country being with a man that is as much older than you, would make your lives slightly complicated. I mean your child is what 18 or 19 years younger than his sister." 

"What!" I gasp. 

Shock goes through us both rendering us mute for a moment. I replay our conversation in my head. Oh my-. Of course he thinks I'm with Volo. I practically just told him I was. My stomach lurches at the thought. But then I almost laugh. As if Larentia would accept such a thing. 

"I assumed-," Carmadon starts but I can't even hear him say it. 

"No," I say shaking my head. " I'm not sleeping with-," I shiver, "I'm not in love with Volo Samos. Darcy is his grandson not his son." Volo's face flashes before my eyes. Bearded and stern. Cold eyes that even my smiles could not soften. 

Carmadon holds up his hands. "My mistake." 

"I don't even like beards," I add as I fix Darcy's little cap. He struggles against his blankets for a moment but settles as I begin to rock him. "I don't even think Volo or Larentia like me."

"What is not to like?" Carmadon asks. He smiles kindly and I feel as if he is trying to make up for the thought that I was sleeping with Volo Samos. I suppose if our paths ever cross again, this will be a moment to look back on and laugh about. 

I force myself to chuckle. "I should probably go check his diaper," I say as I rise from my crossed legged seat on the blanket. 

_______

I sleep hard despite the fact that my body shakes with nerves and excitement. I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going home. To Ptolemus, to his embrace. I can only imagine his reaction when I step off the plane, I can only dream of it.

Soft whimpers bring me from my sleep. I turn over willing Darcy to only be having a dream. I listen, slowly fading back to my sleep when alarms go off in my head. I shoot up, my head spinning.

No. He shouldn't be making that sound.

I turn over to my son and see that spit  is trailing over his little chin. He is kicking his legs, his face flushed silver, gasping. His lips turning blue. I'm suddenly awake pushing the covers off and he's in my arms. Darcy cries only seem to amplify, as I rock him, hush him.

He coughs suddenly and I nearly jump, my heart like thunder in my chest. He's cough, it shouldn't sound like that. He's sick. He begins to gasp again and I feel my panic kick into overdrive. I feel tears burn at my eyes, and my heartbeat speed up.

I continue to rock him, moving him over my shoulder so I can burp him. Maybe he has extra air in his body from when I fed him. Did I burp him? Did I feed him? Maybe he's cold. Is this normal? No it can't be.