The healer's voice was gentle but firm.
"You need rest, Aria. The baby is healthy, but your body is working hard. The rogue threat isn't going anywhere, and neither should you. Let the warriors handle the patrols."
Aria sat on the edge of the cot in the healer's wing, her hands resting on the curve of her stomach. It was visible now—a soft, round swell that pressed against the fabric of her tunic. Two months and three weeks. She had counted every day.
"I can't just sit in my chambers and wait," she said. "I've done that before, I sat in a cold room while people decided my fate. I won't do it again."
Elara sighed. She had been Mooncrest's healer for thirty years. She knew stubbornness when she saw it. "I'm not asking you to hide. I'm asking you to be careful, light activity only, no tra
