Katherine Moore—tall and slender with long brown hair and bifocals over large, milk chocolate eyes. She was sweet, instantly likable, with an aura that shone brighter than most non-magical auras. The haze was laced with saddening colors, indicating a troubled past and a deep hesitancy to trust the world around her, but it also held an exceptional amount of optimism and compassion.
Katherine adored Rhosewen from day one, doting on her every chance she got. Within six weeks, Rhosewen had found true friendship in Katherine, albeit based on lies.
One evening, as Aedan ran errands, Katherine joined Rhosewen for tea. She’d been thrilled to accept Rhosewen’s invite, and was in an excellent mood as she refilled their mugs, raving about a baby crib she’d seen at a flea market.
“It was so pretty,” she said, adding heaps of sugar to Rhosewen’s tea, “all white with spindly rails. You would have liked it.”
Rhosewen stirred her beverage then sipped, watching the pulsing haze surrounding her company. “It sounds pretty. You should have bought it.”
“You can’t get a crib without seeing it first,” Katherine countered.
“Not for me,” Rhosewen laughed. “For you. You like kids, right?”
“I love kids,” Katherine confirmed.
“Then you’ll probably have one someday.”
Katherine’s aura darkened as her expression fell, making her look older, sadder and wiser. But then her lips curved into a hopeful smile. “I can’t carry a baby, but I would like to adopt one. Someday soon, I hope.”
“Oh,” Rhosewen whispered, eyes moistening. “Adoption is a special commitment. It takes a special person to do it. I think you’d be perfect for the job.”
Rhosewen believed what she said, yet her heart ached for Katherine—an outwardly average, inwardly amazing, beautiful woman, who would never know what it feels like to carry a baby, to know her body was responsible for the most precious, miraculous, magical thing possible.
Sharp pangs suddenly ripped through Rhosewen’s bones, and her mug shattered on the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, grasping at air before finding the edge of the table, her knuckles and face painfully tense.
“Sarah!” Katherine shouted, rushing around the table. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I’m fine,” Rhosewen rasped. “I just . . . need . . . a second.” She forced herself to breathe through the subsiding pain, which quickly ebbed to a tolerable ache. “I’m better now,” she said, peeling her hands from the table as she willed her smarting body to stand.
“What are you doing?” Katherine gasped.
“Cleaning up my mess,” Rhosewen answered, waving a shaky hand toward broken glass.
“I don’t think so,” Katherine protested, urging Rhosewen to sit. “I’ll clean up your mess while you tell me what that was all about.”
“It’s nothing,” Rhosewen assured. “I’ve just been achy since I got pregnant. Sometimes it flares up.”
“You should see a doctor.”
“It’s not that bad,” Rhosewen countered. “I don’t know why I dropped my cup. Clumsiness, I guess.”
Katherine halted, suspiciously eying her hostess. “You’re the most graceful woman I’ve ever met, Sarah. Whatever that was hurt you more than you’re letting on. You need to see a doctor.” She dumped the broken glass in the trash then turned back with raised eyebrows. “Does Chris know about this?”
“No,” Rhosewen mumbled, thinking about how much energy she devoted to keeping Aedan in the dark. Of course she felt guilty—an unending, gut wrenching, stomach flipping kind of guilty. But she hadn’t found the courage to destroy his happiness. When he performed physical examinations on her and the baby, she worked her own magic, shielding the sore areas of her body when his hands moved over them, and she’d learned how to manipulate her aura, which took constant concentration.
“That’s what I thought,” Katherine sighed, “because he wouldn’t let this go on without getting you medical help. He loves you and that baby too much.”
“I know,” Rhosewen conceded. “I’m going to tell him.”
“Soon?”
Rhosewen was deciding how to answer when Aedan walked in. Katherine glanced at him then shot a meaningful look at Rhosewen, but she didn’t say anything more on the subject.
Aedan covered the distance to Rhosewen in two strides, pulling her out of her chair and into his arms. “Hello, my love,” he breathed, doing so easily for the first time since he’d left. He kissed her lips then knelt, nuzzling and kissing her stomach. “Hello, my other love.”
Rhosewen’s pain pulsed, but she held perfectly still. She’d become quite skilled in her dishonest quest.
Aedan straightened and looked to Katherine, who’d been leaning against the counter, admiring the family reunion. “How are you, Katherine?” he asked.
Katherine shook her head clear and smiled, scanning the room for her purse. “Good, Chris. Thanks for asking. Did you get by the bank before they closed?”
He hadn’t gone to the bank. He’d flown to a nearby town to call his parents. They couldn’t achieve a magical connection at these distances, and something as non-magical as phone records could easily lead to their discovery, so they kept their phone calls from the apartment down to two a week.
“I did,” he lied. “Just barely.”
“Better late than never,” Katherine returned, grabbing her purse off the sofa. “Well, I have things to do around the house. Call if you need anything, Sarah.”
“I will,” Rhosewen replied. “Thanks for having tea with me.”
“Anytime. See you guys later.”
“Bye,” they said in unison, waving as she walked out the door.
“She’s sweet,” Rhosewen whispered, burying her face in Aedan’s chest.
“Not as sweet as you,” he countered, nuzzling her hair.
“What did your dad say?”
“They’ve spread the word that we’re on an extended honeymoon, but Agro’s smart enough to figure us out. We just have to hope our hiding place stays safe.”
“It will,” she assured. “It has to.” The alternative was unthinkable. “Maybe I’ll try to commune with the Heavens in my dreams. Mother Ava led me to you. Maybe she’ll lead me to answers.”
“You believe the Goddess of the Heavens brought us together?” Aedan asked.
“Who else besides Ava could deliver heaven on earth?” Rhosewen countered. “If I can commune with her in my dreams, perhaps I can persuade her to guide my fairytale down safer paths.”
“You aim to sweet-talk the Heavens,” Aedan laughed, “woo them with your wily charm?”
“Not wily wooing, just . . . humbly requesting.”
“If anyone can sway the Heavens,” Aedan conceded, nuzzling her ear, “it’s my golden Rose.”
“Mmm . . . ” Rhosewen murmured, leaning into his lips. Then she grinned and pulled away. “Where are the gemstones we brought? Maybe there’s something in there that will sharpen my perception and deepen my meditation.”
Aedan laughed as he dug into his satchel, very willing to humor the magnificent mother of his child.
The next few months passed uneventfully, with Aedan and Rhosewen taking full advantage of their idle time, spending days and nights in each other’s arms, singing lullabies to their baby, and getting to know each other’s souls.
Rhosewen’s pain steadily increased, but so did her resistance to it. She’d come to consider it a mild annoyance. It was only fair after all. Everything else was perfect. Not even hiding from the world bothered her too bad. As long as she had Aedan and her baby, she would hide forever. She dearly missed her parents and coven, but the separation was a small sacrifice to make to ensure the safety of her baby and maintain her husband’s peace of mind.
Though she hadn’t received any enlightening visions from the Goddess Ava, she continued to sleep with a bag of gemstones under her pillow. Having them there helped her maintain hope if nothing else, and perhaps someday they’d bring her the courage and wisdom she needed to confess her unexplained aches and pains to Aedan. He was so happy and peaceful not knowing, it made her happy and peaceful as well, so she kept her mouth shut, telling herself the pain wasn’t so bad it should overshadow this joyous time in their lives. But deep in her squirming gut she knew it was wrong. She was harboring a lie that got heavier with each passing day.
Four months into their retreat, they were lying naked in bed—something they did more often than not—and their hands were on her growing belly as Aedan sang a lullaby.
Moments like these were Rhosewen’s favorites, and not even the slight increase in discomfort could prevent her from enjoying them. Occasionally the pain kept her from singing the words, but she could easily sweet-talk Aedan into taking over the lyrics while she hummed along.
Tonight, as she lay aching but happy, humming an upbeat tune, Aedan held his lips to her stomach, singing the song he called Angel’s Lullaby.
“How special you are, my love.
How special you’ll always be.
How much you have touched our lives,
your beautiful mom and me.
We’ll see you soon, sweet child.
How happy we will be
when we look into the eyes
of our angelic baby.”
That’s when it happened—the softest, little thump beneath their fingers. Their beautiful, amazing, wondrous baby was moving. Their eyes met, wide and shiny as grins stretched across their faces. Rhosewen was so thrilled, she had no problem ignoring the flaring burn sliding over her body.
Another tiny thump.
Rhosewen giggled, heart soaring as her toes danced, and Aedan replaced his fingers with his lips, quickly kissing when he felt another kick.
“Wow,” Rhosewen breathed. “It’s amazing, Aedan. I can feel our baby moving inside me.”
“Now can I check?” he asked, tapping anxious fingers on her belly.
Since the beginning, he’d wanted to know the gender of the baby, but Rhosewen made him promise to wait until they felt movement.
“Now you can check,” she agreed.
Aedan grinned and closed his eyes, lightly pressing his palms to her stomach as he searched for the baby’s energy. When Rhosewen laughed and wiggled, his concentration snapped, and he peeked at her with one eye.
“I’m sorry,” she giggled, wiggling again. “I’m just so excited.”
“You need to lie still if you want me to know for sure,” he teased.
“Okay. I promise.” She took a deep breath then held perfectly still.
Aedan focused on her belly, and she eagerly watched, but his expression stayed neutral. After a very long fifty-three seconds, he opened his eyes, a serene smile creasing his chiseled cheeks.
“Well?” she urged, body trembling. She couldn’t wait one second longer.
“It’s a girl,” he answered, his voice impossibly tender. “We’re having a baby girl.”
Rhosewen froze as reality washed over her, flooding her with an intense maternal instinct and an incredibly fierce devotion to her daughter. A baby girl, made up of her and Aedan, created by the love they’d shared, was growing, kicking and living inside her body.
Her body . . . her burning—breaking—body.
She screamed as the worst pain she’d ever experienced consumed her. She arched and clawed at the bed. A thousand daggers stabbing her, a massive boulder crushing her, flames licking every inch inside and out.
“Rose!” Aedan shouted, trying to stifle her thrashing. “Rose!”
Her head flung back, neck flexed, veins bulging as she willed herself to endure. “Aedan.”
“What?” he blurted, sweeping his gaze over her body. “What’s happening?”
“Hurts . . .”
“What hurts?”
“Everything . . .”
“Shit.” Hysteria spiking, Aedan blinked back moisture and forced himself to breathe. “What can I do, Rose? Help me make it better. Please.”
She found his hand, wrapping it in stark white fingers, but she didn’t answer. She couldn’t. If the words were to make it through her stretched throat, they wouldn’t get through her clenched teeth.
“Rose,” Aedan choked, checking her pulse—rapid, but not fatally so. In fact, he couldn’t find any reason for her pain. Every organ he examined was stressed but working. “I can’t stand seeing you like this, Rose.” It sucked his breath away and pulverized his heart. “Give me a clue, love. Please.”
He pried her other hand from the sheets and firmly held on, begging for the pain to take him instead, employing magic, willpower and faith to make it so. He would gladly take all of it, every last drop, anything to give her relief.
His hands began prickling, like an army of fire ants had suddenly swallowed them, and while instinct told him to cringe, undying love and devotion welcomed the burn. As it stretched up his arms and throughout his torso, Rhosewen went limp.
Muscles rigid, Aedan struggled to breathe through clenched teeth, but he was winning the battle, absorbing then pushing the pain away with relative ease.
Rhosewen breathlessly watched his face as tears streamed from her bloodshot eyes. “How did you do that?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, shaking away the last of the burn. He released her hands and took her face. “What was that? Do you have any idea what just happened?”
Her features twisted as more tears slipped down her temples.
“You do know,” he realized. “You have to tell me, Rose. What’s going on?”
“This . . . this wasn’t the first time.”
“What? This has happened before?”
“Never that bad.”
“Damn it, Rose. How could you keep this from me?”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know what was happening . . . and I . . . I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Ssh . . .” he whispered, laying his cheek to hers. “Calm down. I’m sorry I cursed at you.”
“No, Aedan… you’re right. I should have told you… but it’s never been this bad.” Her tears and sobs were relentless, breaking up her speech.
“It’s okay,” he assured, sweeping her hair from her clammy face. “Don’t worry about that. It’s as much my fault for not seeing it.”
“But I hid it, Aedan. I’ve been using magic to keep it from you.”
Aedan turned his face into his bicep, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. He had no idea how much it would hurt to find out she’d been lying to him. He smoothed his expression and met her stare, gently stroking her moist cheek. “Let’s forget you hid it. We’ll never talk about it again, but you have to tell me everything now. All of it. Okay?”
She pulled in a ragged breath, trying to calm herself. “Okay.”
“When was the first time you hurt?”
“When I realized I was pregnant, but it was nothing like this. It was mild compared to this.”
Damn. This was bad. “How long did it last?”
“Most of it went away after a few seconds.”
“Most of it?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes.
She squirmed. “Well . . . it never went away completely. I just got used to it. It’s kind of an achy feeling.”
Aedan’s features twisted with a different kind of ache. She’d been suffering in silence for five months while he’d been an ignorant fool. “Have there been other times like the first?”
“Yes,” she confessed.
“How often?”
“Two . . . three times a day.”
“Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Rose. So sorry.”
“Why? You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m sorry you’re in pain and I can’t help.”
“But you did help. You took it from me.”
“What about now? Are you hurting now?”
She shifted and swallowed. “Yes, but I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to. I’m calling our parents. We have to figure out what’s going on before it gets worse.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, pulling his hand to her heart. “I’m sorry, Aedan. I should have told you, but everything was so perfect. You were happy, which made me happy . . .” She dropped her gaze, ashamed of her suddenly inadequate defense. “That’s no excuse. It was wrong. You should be furious with me.”
“Never,” he countered, touching his lips to hers. “I could never be furious with you. But no more secrets. You have to tell me about every little thing, no matter how insignificant you think it is. And please don’t manipulate your aura anymore. I want to see everything that’s supposed to be in it, so I can help.”
“Okay,” she agreed, desperate to redeem herself. “I promise.”
He gave her a kiss then started to get out of bed, but she pulled him back, more tears springing from her eyes. “I love you, Aedan.”
He dried her tears then gave her another kiss. “I love you, too, my beautiful Rose. You and our baby girl are my life.”
He watched her eyes for another long moment then got out of bed, walking three feet to the phone. Now that he knew what she was going through, he wouldn’t leave her alone, so he embraced the risk of calling their family from the apartment.
He called his parents first, reaching Serafin on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Aedan greeted.
“Hey, son. Everything okay?”
“No.”
Aedan relayed what he knew of Rhosewen’s affliction, which wasn’t much. “I’ve never seen or felt anything like it,” he finished, remembering the pain he’d absorbed from her hand. “This isn’t a complication stemming from pregnancy. It’s something else.”
“You think the Unforgivables’ curse hit its mark.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Aedan watched Rhosewen walk to the bathroom then waited for her to close the door. “It seems her pain has something to do with the baby,” he quietly suggested. “It started the second she found out she was pregnant, and it’s only gotten stronger. The worst one yet happened right after the baby kicked and we found out she’s a girl. I can’t know for sure, but it’s as if . . . it would seem . . . it’s like the more she loves our baby the more she hurts. And if that’s the case . . .” He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. “If that’s the case . . . having our baby could . . . it could . . .” He couldn’t say it.
He didn’t have to. “I understand, Aedan. I’ll call Caitrin and fill him in on what’s going on. Now that we have an idea of what the spell is doing to Rhosewen, we can research its origins and perhaps learn how to counter it.”
“Have you ever heard of a spell like this?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. Give us time.”
“We may not have much.”
“We’ll do everything we can, Aedan. It’s our number one priority.”
The bathroom door opened, and Aedan looked at his love. She was so beautiful, even with a pale face and weary eyes. “Call when you know something,” he mumbled, watching her crawl into bed.
“Of course,” Serafin agreed. “Give Rhosewen a kiss for us.”
“I will,” Aedan assured. “Talk to you later.”
“Bye, son.”
Weighted with worry, Aedan replaced the receiver, quickly crawling into bed with his sweet and sorrowful Rose.