Page 105 of Feral King

“Everything looks good?” I ask.

“Everything looks healthy, Ms. Thibodeaux. Baby’s developing normally. Your blood pressureisa little low, but that’s common in the first trimester. Just make sure to stayhydrated and keep up with your vitamins and pregnancy guidelines.”

She prints out a screen grab and hands it to me. It’s a black-and-white grainy square, and I take it from her and hold it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. It’s all so surreal. I still can’t believe what I’m looking at.

“What about the nausea? I know it’s normal, but it seems like it’s been getting really bad.”

“Nausea is a very common symptom during the first trimester. With both of my girls, it felt like a three-month-long hangover that just wouldn’t go away. The best course of action is ginger tea, small and frequent meals, and doing what you can to avoid triggering smells. Oh, and tamp down your stress.”

That’s funny. Trying to limit my stress sounds like a sick joke with the kind of life I lead.

“Okay, tea and tiny meals. No stress. I can handle that.”

Well, maybe not the last part, but I’ll try.

Dr. Okafor smiles warmly. “Of course, you can. It should ease up as you move into the second trimester.” She rolls the ultrasound cart aside and peels off her gloves. “But keep in mind what I said about avoiding stress—stress hormones can affect fetal development in the first trimester. Whatever you can delegate, defer, or simply remove from your plate—I encourage it.”

The way she’s emphasizing the point makes me wonder if she knows more than she’s letting on. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid.

“I’ll do my best,” I tell her.

“That’s all any of us can do.” She follows up her words with another warm, professional smile. “I’d like to see you again in three weeks. We’ll do a more detailed scan then. In the meantime, small, frequent meals, lots of sleep and rest, and hydrate often. Let’s try to give that baby a calm ride for the next few months.” I thank her, and she hands me a towel to wipe off the gel, then leaves.

I get dressed, and walk out of the exam room, clutching the printout.

Misha sits in a corner chair in the waiting room. Ethan assigned him to me—his most trusted guard—while he and Julian attend the council meeting. He’s one of my favorites. He raises his eyebrows a bit as I enter.

“Well?”

I hold up the printout. “Strong heartbeat, healthy. Looks like a kidney bean, right?”

I offer him the picture, and he takes it carefully, studying it like a surveillance photo.

“Is that the head?”

“Probably.”

He smiles. “Looks like a weather system,” he says as he hands the photo back. “Congratulations, Lyra.”

There’s something about the simplicity of him congratulating me that makes my eyes sting. Misha plucks a tissue out of the box on the side table and hands it to me.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Just a bit over-emotional.”

“Something like this is worth getting emotional about.”

“Or maybe it’s the hormones.”

He chuckles, then asks the receptionist for an envelope. He hands it to me, and I slip the photo inside before dropping it into my purse.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you home.”

We take the elevator down and step out onto East 68th Street, walking right into a wall of rain. It’s the kind of rain that turns Manhattan into a smeared watercolor—headlights bleeding into taillights, umbrellas colliding, pedestrians clutching their coats and walking faster. Our car is parked right out front, thankfully. Misha holds the door open while I duck into the passenger seat. Then he rounds the car and slides behind the wheel.

I take out the photo. I still can’t believe it’s real. My little kidney bean.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that picture,” Misha says as he pulls out onto the street.”