Someone giggled.
I stretched, feeling every one of my sixty years, and opened my eyes to see
Marianne standing over me, almost doubled over trying to stifle herself. The
Sural stood next to her, looking bemused.

            It wasn’t
broad daylight yet, but it looked like sunrise wasn’t far off. I was still in
the garden, under one of those trees that kind of look like apple trees, and
Thela curled into my side, dead to the world. She looked more peaceful than
I’d seen her since her father’s sudden death, the poor little thing. We must
have fallen asleep counting the stars.

            “Oh,” I
said, because there wasn’t much else to say. I patted the girl’s shoulder.
“Thela. Thela, sweetie, wake up.”

            Thela
started and sat up, looking around wild-eyed. Marianne only giggled harder. I
rolled my eyes at her, but I only remembered too well what it was like to have
a sudden fit of the giggles while pregnant.

            The Sural
said something to Thela in their own language, and she jumped up and ran off into
the keep. Then he extended a hand to me. “Do you require assistance?”