If love alone could have saved you, you never would have died.
The agonizing pain to which she awoke was all too familiar. Neyaa struggled to a sitting position, the fear in her eyes evident as she called out to Deredan. The pain tore through her abdomen, instinctively she placed her hands where it hurt most and attempted to adjust her breathing to calm the torment, awaiting the inevitable.
“Deredan!” she cried out in vain. In truth she was as relieved as she was scared that he was not there to see her woeful state. He had already left to start his usual busy routine of training and patrolling before concluding most of his days teaching the less fortunates in Beggars Alley to read and write.
Branston stood up in his crib his arms outstretched to his mother distressed by her disposition. Before long he was crying bitterly for comfort and reassurance, but Neyaa could not tend to him, try as she might. Relief washed over her when Branston's wet-nurse Aanya arrived as usual.
“Take him Aanya” Neyaa demanded of her “It is not fitting for him to see his mother this way”.
Aanya scooped the frantic child up from his crib and cradled him to her, rocking him gently. The boy was just shy of one year of age, but never-the-less sensed his mothers anxiety.
The fearful green eyes that looked over Branston's shoulder in Neyaa's direction were wide but perceptive. “Miss Neyaa!” she stammered...”
Neyaa pulled the blankets about her...”Do not look upon this sight before you Aanya, take my son to your home. You will not speak a word of this to anyone!”
Aanya's expression asked of her the obvious question... “No, Aanya...not even Deredan, he must never know what has occurred this day, do you understand me Aanya?”
“You need a healer Miss Neyaa, let me fetch Miss Nimeway”.
“No” Neyaa almost snarled at her, “There is naught that can be done now, this is the way it is for me. Do not look at me that way, Aanya, do not think me cold, the very heart is being wrenched out of me. Do not think me uncaring because I accept that I have been judged”. Neyaa pointed emphatically towards the door her voice snatched once more by a wave of pain “ Do not stand there and gawk at me amidst my shame. Go!”
By the time Deredan trudged up the path and into the house, the linen was changed but that was all that would appear to have been done that day. His supper was not ready as it would have normally been if she was at home and expecting him. He did not question her excuses for her lethargy or the reason Branston was still with his nurse, nor why Neyaa was already in bed. Deredan was a placid, calm man and had soon learned, Neyaa did naught unless there was reason for it.
He attributed Aanya's odd behaviour when she returned with Branston to recent event's and the fact that Aanya was quite smitten with him and usually awkward around him.
Neyaa's heart was heavy with grief and guilt each time this man she loved, this man ignorant to the terrible secret she had kept from him, tended to her and placed a sweet kiss upon her forehead. She watched him from the sanctity of the bed as he amused his adopted son with games and frivolity before settling him down for the night and crawling into bed next to her, exhausted from the toils of his day.
“Why do you weep my love?” he asked tenderly when he drew her close to him. Neyaa could not answer, tears fell freely, as her lover rocked her from side to side and stroked her hair hushing away her tears. She was at odds to lie to this man but what he did not know could never hurt him, she would carry that burden for them both.
All Neyaa could think of even at that moment of resignation, was the small recently disturbed mound of earth behind the house...
