Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“I’m pregnant?” Mila says the words in a small, shocked voice.
We both knew it was a possibility, but there is something about the actual confirmation of pregnancy that changes everything in an instant. What seemed like a remote potential, a phenomenon that only happens to others, suddenly feels very concrete and final.
“Yes,” the doctor says. “These symptoms are common for the first trimester. If they increase, and you find yourself dehydrated, or unable to maintain weight, we can look at some treatments, but for now you are doing quite well. Ginger and plain crackers should help, avoiding rich meals, and taking plenty of rest if you need it.”
It is very early days. She’s only a few weeks pregnant. But she is pregnant. Suddenly, I feel infinitely more connected to the world, and to the Artifice. I am going to have children who will either suffer the consequences or reap the rewards of my decisions.
“Arthur?” Mila’s voice is soft. “Are you happy?”
I realize I have been standing here like a big stone statue, not reacting outwardly at all.
I kiss her face over and over, cradling her head in my hands. “You’ve been such a good girl,” I praise her. “We are all going to keep you safe, and the baby is going to be a joy like no other.”
She smiles at me, and I see little traces of tears in her eyes. “So I have made you happy?”
“Mila, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”
CHAPTER 10
Arthur
“Where are you going?” Mila reaches out and holds my hand as I try to get out of bed. It’s been another week or so since she discovered she is pregnant, and I’ve noticed she’s been even more attached to me of late. I think it is a sweet shift in temperament, but it does make doing my job a little harder.
“I’m sorry,” I say, kissing her forehead. “I have work to attend to.”
She pouts at me. “I don’t like it when you go.”
“Clingy little thing,” I murmur affectionately. Ever since she fell pregnant, the hormonal changes have made her more sensitive in a lot of ways. She does not like for me to be too far out of her sight for too long.
I know this phase will not last forever. She is young, and she is scared. She wants her family with her; however, I do not wish to announce the news prematurely. Once she reaches three months, we will notify her parents and her mother and sister can come here and attend to her. But for the moment it is a secret shared between her and me, and Lydia, I suppose. Nothing is kept secret from Lydia.
“I will not be long,” I assure her. “Lance needs me to help him.”
She frowns slightly. “I don’t like Lance.”
“No? Why not?”
“I didn’t like the way he looked at me on the day I came here.”
“The day you fell into my office through the wall?”
She giggles a little. “He looks at me weirdly. Like, I’m… not like he doesn’t like me, but like he knows something about me that I don’t even know.”
“He looks at you because you’re gorgeous.”
“No, he doesn’t look at me like he thinks I’m pretty. He looks at me like I’m not a person at all,” she says. “He’s not a nice man.”
He isn’t. Neither am I, for that matter. We military types don’t tend to value niceness highly as a general rule. But she loves me, I think. She has not said the words, but the way she looks at me tells me that she has a rather intense fondness for me. I love her. I am absolutely devoted to her. I would do anything for her.
I have not said any of that to her, but I hope she knows I love her the same way I know she loves me.
“I will be back soon,” I say. “Have a nap, and I will be back before you know it.”
Lance has called a special meeting. I am hoping that there will be information on the rebellion that has entered New Boston clandestinely. We have been working our best spies over the last few weeks. They have not turned up anything of any real substance, which is frustrating. Since Mila arrived, I’ve become aware that the war I am used to fighting on the front has come to my front door and is being lost beneath my nose.
“Say congratulations to the new daddy!” Lance holds up a glass to me as I step into the private meeting chamber. Unlike most tactical meetings that take place at my home, this one is taking place in the Temple of the Artifice. It stands in the very center of New Boston, and acts as a center for commerce and justice. I can see my building in the distance from the windows of this one, which is several stories high.