"Mildred."
Gen's voice cut through the room.
The servants who had been tidying his chambers immediately halted what they were doing. Heads bowed, they stepped back. Mildred, who had been standing beside my breakfast table, did the same.
"Leave us."
My fingers tightened around the fork in my hand.
I caught the smile Mildred failed to hide before she ushered the others toward the door. One by one, they filed out until only Gen and I remained.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Silence settled over the room.
I stared down at my plate.
It wasn't until I heard his footsteps approaching that I finally looked up once more.
"Helena."
He stopped several paces away, when he saw the way I looked at him.
Gone was the easy warmth I had once greeted him with during our shared morning meals. Gone were the cautious smiles and polite conversations.
His expression tightened.
He was still dressed from training. Sweat darkening the collar of his tunic and dampened the hair at his temples. His chest rose and fell heavily from exertion.
For the first time since I had met him, he looked uncertain.
Regret flickering across his face.
"I only wished to ask how you are feeling."
"Fine," I replied.
The lie came easier than I expected.
As a nurse, I knew I was far from fine.
The dizziness earlier concerned me more than I cared to admit. Head injuries were unpredictable. Patients could appear perfectly lucid one moment and deteriorate the next. In my own time, I would have sent myself for a scan.
Instead, I was trapped in a century where a healer checked my stitches without sterilized equipment and hoped for the best.
The irony would have been amusing under different circumstances.
"I am well enough."
Gen's eyes narrowed slightly.
He didn't believe me, of course he didn't.
My head still ached. My body felt exhausted. Sleep had done little to restore me.
Yet none of that compared to the heaviness lodged inside my chest.
His gaze lingered on me for a long moment before drifting away.
"I did not mean to hurt you."
My grip tightened around the fork as his words hung between us.
Slowly, I set it down.
The scrape of metal against wood sounded impossibly loud.
"Do not bother," I bit out, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
My eyes drifted to the breakfast tray between us.
"Do not apologize for it as though that makes it better."
I could feel his gaze on me, but I still refused to look up.
"What has happened, happened," I said. "We are powerless to change it."
A muscle worked in his jaw. "Helena—"
"So let us not pretend we could."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"What happens now?" I asked.
His brow furrowed. "I do not understand."
I met his eyes knowingly. "You do."
The realization crossed his face almost immediately, his expression shifted.
"You fear a child."
My stomach twisted.
As a nurse, I knew exactly how little control women once had over such things. There were no pills. No tests. No certainty. Only waiting.
And given that the last time I had taken the pill was likely weeks—perhaps even months—ago, I knew there had been no protection when Gen...what he did last night. All that remained was waiting and wondering.
"It is only sensible for a woman of my situation," I bit out, my voice cracking despite my efforts to steady it. "I do not know who I am. I do not know if I still even had a home to return to. I do not even know if I have a family out there, or a husband."
Marcus flashed through my mind.
His smile, his touch. His voice.
I swallowed hard.
"And now there could be a child."
Gen's jaw tightened.
"If there is a child," he said quietly, "I will acknowledge it."
I stared at him.
"I would never abandon my own blood, Helena."
He stepped closer.
"We would marry, and you would want for nothing. Neither would the child."
His voice softened. "I would take responsibility."
For some reason, those words hurt more than they should have, because it wasn't supposed to be like this. Gen had taken something that was never his, speaking of a future I had never chosen. A future that did not belong to him, but to Marcus.
My throat tightened.
"That is exactly what frightens me."
The words were barely above a whisper.
Yet, for the first time since entering the room, Gen looked genuinely wounded by them. But I could no longer find it in me to feel any ounce of sympathy for him.
"You speak as though I am some great tragedy," he said after a long moment, making no attempt to hide the hurt in his voice.
"No," I bit out, my voice softened as I looked down at my hands, twisting together beneath the table. "I speak with the possibility that I could belong to someone else."
The words lingered between us.
"What you did..." I lifted my gaze to meet his. "...you took that choice from me."
Something hardened behind those glacial eyes.
"You speak of a man you cannot even remember," he said quietly. "A man who may not even exist, Helena."
I opened my mouth, but he continued.
"But let us say he does."
His voice remained calm. Too calm.
"Would he cross mountains for you?"
He took a step closer.
"Would he bleed for you?"
Another step.
"Would he still choose you if there were a child?"
The question struck deeper than he intended. Or perhaps, exactly as deeply as he intended.
I swallowed. "Would you?"
His brow furrowed.
"If I were carrying another man's child," I continued, refusing to look away, "would you have accepted me as I was?"
For the first time, he hesitated.
Though, only briefly.
Then he crossed the remaining distance between us.
His fingers found my chin, lifting it gently.
My pulse quickened.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "Had you appeared beside by my altar, your belly swollen with another man's child, I would still have given you shelter."
His thumb brushed lightly against my skin.
"I would still have fed you, healed you. Protected you. Claimed responsibility for you."
His eyes searched mine.
"And for the child."
I stared at him, unable to decide whether his answer comforted me or frightened me.
"The gods have sent you to me, Helena," he said, lowering himself onto one knee before me. His hand drifted to my neck, his thumb settling over the frantic beat of my pulse. "I had prayed for a legacy. For a chance to restore what my family lost. And they answered me with you."
His gaze hardened, unwavering. "What makes you think I could simply let you go?"
My breath hitched, my thoughts immediately turning to Marcus.
"Especially now that you may be carrying my child."
I bit my bottom lip.
"I have given your clan every opportunity to come for you, ever since I found you," he revealed. "I have waited because it mattered to you. Because I wished to be fair." His expression hardened slightly. "But months had passed, and still no one comes. No father. No brother. No husband."
The last word carried a note of disbelief.
He tilted his head.
"What do you think that means, Helena?"