The King(221)

As she stood up, she winced and had to stretch her back. Going over, she wanted to pull him tightly to her, but figured a reminder of the pregnancy was probably not what he needed at the moment.
“I can’t help him,” Wrath said in a voice that cracked. “I can’t … help where he’s at.”
“Sometimes knowing you’re not alone is enough.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
But he took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one. And as a sudden wave of exhaustion hit her, he seemed to recognize it.
“How about you head home?” he said.
“How did you know?”
“You just yawned.”
“Did I?”
“Have Fritz take you.”
As she arched her back, she wanted to stay, but had to be realistic. “Maybe walking around the mall for all that time was a little much.”
“Go on, take a rest. I’ll be home in a couple of hours and I’ll put some shitty television on for us, ’kay?”
“That sounds like heaven.”
“Good.” He kissed her once. And then seemed to have to do it again. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Fritz!” her husband called out. “Car!”
She made sure to pet George a couple of times and tell him where she was going before she left. And then she was out into the night, getting into the rear of the Mercedes, heading for the mansion.
Letting her head fall back against the seat, she could feel herself already begin to doze off. “I’m afraid I’m not very good company,” she said to Fritz.
“Just rest, madam.”
“Good idea, Fritz.”
As Beth departed, Wrath leaned back in the armchair, and was not at ease in the slightest.
… she died in front of me …
… held my lifeless son in my hands …
“My lord?”
“I’m sorry, what?” He shook himself. “What?”
Abalone cleared his throat. “Would you like a break, sire?”
“Yeah. Just gimme a minute.” Taking George’s halter, he said, “Kitchen.”
Walking through the flap door with his dog, he was relieved that Fritz had already left and that the brothers stayed back.
Shit, the minute he’d smelled the pain and sorrow of that civilian, he knew that all had been lost for the male—and not in a material sense. People didn’t get into that kind of agony over things. And as usual Abalone knew the full story, but Wrath preferred to let the people tell him the details in person; he wanted to hear things directly from them.
Childbirth had not actually claimed the female’s life this time.
A car accident.
Wrath had expected it to be the former, but that was not the way destiny had played out. Nope, the female had lived through the birth and so had the child. They’d been killed by a drunk driver on the way home from Havers’s clinic.
The casual cruelty of fate was sometimes a ballbuster on an epic scale.
Unbelievable.
Going over to the table, he pulled out a chair and sat down. He was pretty sure he was facing the windows—not that he could see out of them.
So many stories he’d heard, but this one … Jesus Christ, it got to him.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually V put his head in. “You okay?”
“Nope.”
“You want to reschedule, true?”
“Yeah.”
“All right.”
“V.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember that vision you told me about. Where I was looking up at the face in the sky and the future was in my hands?”
“Yeah.”
“What…”
Abruptly, he relived that civilian’s anguish. “Nah, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Sometimes, information wasn’t a good thing. If that commoner could have seen the future, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. He would have just spent the remaining time with his female and his young terrified of what was coming.
“I’ll clear the decks,” the brother said after a moment.
The flap door closed with a thump-bump.
For no apparent reason, he thought of his father and his mother, and wondered what the night of his birth had been like. They’d never spoken of it, but he’d never asked, either. There had always been something else going on—plus, he’d been too young to care about that stuff.
As he tried to picture his own child’s arrival, he couldn’t imagine the stream of events. It was a hypothetical too emotionally charged to resonate.
But there was one thing that was abruptly crystal fucking clear.
He just wasn’t sure how to get around it.
As he stewed on things, memories from the last couple of months filtered into him. Stories and problems, gifts given and received. After all the struggle he’d brought to doing the King’s job before, it had been such a revelation to actually love what he was doing.