Sairis's POV
Sairis was finding it difficult to focus.
It had been coming on gradually, the way exhaustion always crept in when the body had been pushed past what it was willing to give.
The edges of the room had gone slightly soft. The candlelight on the wall seemed further away than it should have been. He was sitting upright but the chair was doing more of the work than he was.
He pressed his hand against his stomach and felt the baby move and used that to anchor himself. Still here. Still moving. He was not going to lose consciousness in this room. He refused to.
Greta stood from her chair.
She crossed the room to where the two men stood near the wall and leaned toward them and spoke in a low voice.
Sairis watched her lips move but could not make out the words. He tried. His concentration slipped and he dragged it back and tried again and still could not get there.
