Petrea’s head hurt. If she was being honest, her entire body ached. She felt as though she had been tied to the chair in Aliks’s office for the last several months. Perhaps this was how Valerian adepts felt when they were practicing bondage…but without the pleasure. Her Dowayne had been so overcome with grief at the sudden and violent death of her lover that she had been all but absent from Cereus House. And when Aliks had been physically present in the house, she haunted its halls like a spirit.
It was not that Petrea begrudged her best friend time to mourn Waldemar. Her heart was not only broken on behalf of Aliks, but a little on her own behalf. Waldemar was both a highly respected member of the Night Court and frequent visitor to Cereus House, and over the years, Petrea had become fond of him. Though he and Aliks made an unlikely couple, they complimented each other, and he made Aliks happy. And there was nothing Petrea wanted more than for her friend to be happy.
But, in the absence of a Dowayne, it was the duty of the Second to take on the duties of managing the House. So, much to her dismay, Petrea had been thrust into exactly the position she had feared when Aliks first mentioned a babe: that of Dowayne. In addition to overseeing the entirety of the social aspects of the House, with which Petrea was intimately familiar, there were the incomes and expenses to account, the correspondences to write, and the contracts to manage. Petrea did not know how Aliks kept everything organized in her head while still maintaining relationships and taking on patrons. Every night, Petrea dropped into her bed exhausted, only to be woken in the early morning hours to begin it all again. She thanked Blessed Elus that she had Amie. Amie had stepped in when she, herself, had taken leave of the House two years prior, and Amie’s executive skills had been invaluable then just as they were now. The two had huddled together over accounting books and schedules, menus and letters. Amie was the only thing preventing Petrea from bursting into tears and curling on the floor in a tiny ball like a child.
Petrea rubbed her eyes, the candle burning low. She guessed it must be close to midnight. Everything was silent, save for the sounds a house makes when no one is awake. She wished not to be awake herself, but one cannot always have what one wished. She sighed and stretched her arms above her head.
She heard the swish of skirts and shuffle of slippers on the floor and looked up to see Aliks step through the door. Her face was drawn and gaunt, and dark circles swelled beneath her eyes. Aliks had lost no small amount of weight in the months following Waldemar’s death, and Petrea frowned to see her friend’s gown hanging off her withering frame. Aliks had not even bothered to have her clothing retailored.
“Good evening, Aliks. I am so pleased to see you up and about.” Petrea gave her friend a wide smile. Though she did not like the look of her friend, she was nonetheless happy to see her.
Aliks smiled wanly in return and dropped wearily onto the settee across from the desk, sighing. “It is far past evening, Petrea.”
“I am quite aware, dearest, but you know as well as I do that a Night Court House does not actually ever sleep.” Aliks hummed in agreement. “Are you hungry? Shall we sneak to the kitchens and fetch a bite like we used to do?”
“I could do with something small. Do you know if the cooks have any of the pickled herring in the pantry? I have been absolutely tortured with cravings for it of late.” Aliks gave a small chuckle. “It seems I cannot get enough.”
Petrea shuddered and made a face. “Pickled herring? How can you eat that? It is disgusting! I could never stomach it.” She paused. “And neither could you, for that matter. Why the sudden desire for it?”
Aliks lifted her shoulders. “I know now, only that it is the only thing I wish to eat.”
Petrea gave her friend a soft look. “I suppose grief does strange things to the body.”
Aliks nodded, tears springing to her eyes. Petrea stood quickly from her chair and moved to sit next to her friend. She put her arm around Aliks and pulled them close. Aliks leaned into Petrea’s side and allowed Petrea to stroke her hair. It was a complete turnaround from the roles they most often played, with Aliks comforting Petrea.
“I cannot seem to wake up from this, Petrea. My body craves sleep, and even when I wake, I am still tired.”
“You have been through something terrible. It would seem to me that it is not odd that your body wishes for rest.”
“But it is not simply sleep I crave. As I said, I am eating this pickled herring that I formerly could not stand. And it seems that is the only thing I can eat.”
“We all grieve in our own ways, love.” Petrea soothed.
Aliks looked at Petrea, her eyes full of tears. Petrea could not remember a time she had seen Aliks cry. It was distressing to her. Aliks played absently with the threads on her gown. “I am sick with grief, Petrea. I cannot hold food in my belly, and scents make me ill.” Aliks gave a sniffle.
Petrea nodded, looking closely at her friend. “I wondered why we no longer had the roses you so love in the halls. I thought it was perhaps simply out of respect…” Petrea trailed off, something tickling the back of her mind. She reached for the thought as the two women sat in the quiet office.
“What am I to do without him, Petrea?” Aliks whispered in a voice so unlike her own.
The tickling thought in the back of her mind slammed front and center, causing Petrea to gasp aloud. The exhaustion. The cravings. The illness. The overwhelming emotions. Could it be?
“Aliks,” she said carefully. “You and Waldemar lit a candle to Eisheth before he died, did you not?”
Aliks’s body stiffened and she pulled back from her friend. “Yes. We did,” she answered, her eyes going wide.
“Do you think,” Petrea said, her mind churning. “Do you think, Aliks, that you might be with child?”
“With child?” Aliks gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise.
“Well, yes. You crave foodstuffs you hate. You have been physically ill. Scents you love make your stomach turn. You cannot sleep enough to feel rested.”
“Oh.” Aliks’s face went blank.
“I think, my dear.” Petrea put a steadying hand on Aliks’s arm. “That is is time we call an Eisande chirgeon.”
~
Petrea took Aliks to bed immediately and lay with her throughout the night. The next morning, the chirgeon was summoned, and Petrea’s suspicions confirmed: the Dowayne of Ceres House was, indeed, with child.