The sickness arrived at four in the morning without announcement.
Serena woke with the knowledge that she had approximately twenty seconds to reach the washroom and she spent none of them deliberating. She moved through the dark bedroom with her hands finding the wall, the door frame, the cold stone of the washroom floor, and she made it to the basin with three seconds to spare.
She was thoroughly, catastrophically ill.
Maren had warned her. First trimester nausea was predictable, manageable, typically confined to mornings. Twin pregnancies amplified everything. The Moonborn bloodline — if Physician Aldric's notes were to be believed — appeared to amplify everything again. The combination produced something that went well beyond morning sickness into territory that felt personal, as if
