Page 22 of Zalis
At least she knew Zalis. Well, they had a total of three conversations, so she didn’t know him well. At least he wasn’t a complete stranger.
Unless he told her to get lost.
Honestly, fair.
When she reached for his hand, he didn’t jerk away, so that was promising.
All eyes were on them. When all of this was said and done, when her heart had a chance to calm down and she was no longer in survival mode, she’d have a proper freakout.
There were a lot of people staring. Judging. The warlord with his one horn was particularly judgy. The human woman, his wife, seemed kind. There were other faces, but they didn’t register. She wouldn’t be able to recognize them if she saw them again. Truthfully, once Gemma’s heart calmed down, she doubted she’d be able to remember anything about the incident.
Zalis squeezed her hand, grounding her in the moment.
“I accept,” he answered.
The warlord looked angry, then tired, but maybe that was just his face. “Very well. Take the volunteer bride to Medical for a full exam and necessary paperwork.”
The woman standing beside him jabbed him with her elbow, the smile never wavering on her face.
“Congratulations on your mating,” the warlord added.
GEMMA
“Twins. That is bad luck.” Dr. Kalen barely looked up from his tablet as he spoke. He had a plum complexion, a set of horns on his head, a white lab coat, and a serious attitude problem.
“Oh, fuck you and your tired old prejudices,” Gemma snapped. Growing up, she and Emry had been teased by other kids for beingcreepy,but the grownups had been worse.
“Oof, I wouldn’t want the hospital bill for that surprise.”
“Which one is the evil twin? Ha ha ha.”
“You know, in the old days, parents would leave the extra baby in the woods for the fairies to take.”
Gemma didn’t know about the authenticity of the last one. That morsel of wisdom came from their neighbor, Mrs. Cowen. Most of what she claimed as “tradition” was bullshit she invented.
“I am sick of other people having opinions about me and Emry,” she said. “And we’re not bad luck. I’m a fucking delight.”
The doctor looked up and blinked, as if surprised. “It is a simple fact. A Mahdfel pregnancy places a great deal of stress on the mother’s body. Twins are a complication. You are a twin. Thelikelihood of conceiving twins is increased. The situation is not ideal.”
The examination he performed had been brusque and cold, barely saying a word as he took a genetic swab, scanned her entire body, and tutted with disapproval over her booted ankle. Gemma wasn’t about to let him lecture her about the dangers of being herself.
Kalen must have sensed her willingness to argue and stole the wind from her sail by saying, “My apologies. I am told my bedside manner needs refinement. My mate insists on meeting new patients, but she is on leave with our child.”
“How is your son?” Zalis asked.
“I am pleased to report that Ramon has an astonishing lung capacity,” Kalen said, pride creeping into his voice. “He is also unfortunately resistant to a sleep schedule.”
Now that he said something, Gemma could see the dark circles under Kalen’s eyes. He had that haggard look of a sleep-deprived new parent.
Still no excuse for being rude.
Kalen must have misinterpreted the annoyance on her face for worry because he said, “If you are apprehensive, do not be. The warlord is a twin.”
Like that explained anything at all.
“Is the warlord bad luck?” she asked, making her voice falsely sweet, because what the fuck kind of statement was that? She swore she saw Zalis’ mouth twitch.
“The warlord’s mate successfully delivered twins because she had exceptional care from an exceptional medic.”
