To anyone else, it might have looked obsessive—paranoid even—but Morvakar sealed his lips and held his tongue. He'd seen too much in her eyes to call it madness.
He understood her reasons for being like this. The heir was a future, a fragile thread of hope she looked forward to.
He thought back to his own despair, the night he had almost broken beneath the fear of losing the heir. He had been terrified of Luna's heartbreak. The thought of watching her eyes shatter if her child slipped away had gutted him more than death ever could.
But what he had failed to consider—what humbled him now—was how much it would wound Thessa too.
A woman burdened with more devotion than she'd ever confess.
"You know," he said softly, "there is such a thing as too much doctoring."
Her head snapped up, emerald eyes flashing in defense. "I just want to be sure there are no effects from the sun shards you used on him." She adjusted the blanket over the child again, smoothing it.
