Cora blew lightly on her cup of tea, trying to cool it and concentrate on the book in her lap. But her eyes kept drifting to the picture window overlooking the driveway. Roger would be pulling in any minute.

At least, that's what she'd been telling herself for the past two hours.

She sighed, frustrated. She'd texted him earlier, asking when he'd be home—not that she really needed to know, she just wanted to.

Roger was notoriously bad at checking his phone, and she knew he and Sinclair had had a stressful day. So, she tried to be patient.

But even though patience was usually one of her virtues…

Today? It was proving difficult.

Suddenly, the baby's little tap skipped down the bond, and Cora grinned, looking down at her belly.

"Oh, are you liking the ginger tea, little guy?" she asked, laughing as she stroked her belly.

He didn't respond—she'd asked him aloud, and he couldn't hear her—but she smiled nonetheless, taking another sip.

Happy? she thought, sending the word and feeling down the bond.

His answer came instantly: Happy happy!

She laughed again, delighted, wondering what would come next. He was getting bigger, growing by the day, and soon he'd start feeling new things. Would he even have words for them? Would they feel them before he did, passing emotions back and forth, asking questions like they did with "happy"? Would it be—

Her thoughts were interrupted by headlights flashing across the driveway, and her face broke into a grin.

"Daddy's home, little baby," she murmured, taking another sip of tea before setting it down on the coffee table as she watched Roger park the car and storm toward the front door.

"Uh-oh," she sighed, watching his every step and stroking her stomach. "Daddy's in a mood, baby…"

Happy! The baby pulsed, making her laugh.

Because daddy was anything but happy, wasn't he? This kid—already with his jokes. God, she loved him so much.

Roger threw open the door, scowling as he stormed through, slamming it shut and heading for the stairs, ignoring her.

"Hey!" she called cheerfully, and Roger whipped around, stopping so abruptly he almost tripped.

"What are you doing in here?" he growled.

She leaned back, surprised. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Am I…not allowed to sit in our living room?"

Roger scowled, hanging his head for a second, running a hand through his hair before looking up. "I'm sorry," he said, and she could tell he meant it, even though his voice was clipped. "You just surprised me—it's been…"

"One hell of a day?" she offered.

He sighed and nodded.

"Come here," she said, making room on the couch.

"Actually, Cora," he said, glancing up the stairs. "Can we just go to bed?"

"Really?" she asked, going still. "You're not hungry, or…"

"Please," he said, hanging his head, almost begging. "I just want to go to bed. With you. And just…be there. All right?"

"Okay," she said, disturbed. She didn't often see him like this. Once they'd broken through his tough exterior, he'd revealed himself to be funny, sweet, and full of jokes. This Roger—the earnest, vulnerable Roger—well, if he was showing this side…he must be really upset.

She was on her feet in a second. "Sure," she said, taking his hand. "Let's go."

They didn't speak much as they went to the bedroom, moving smoothly through their evening routine. Roger kissed her quickly before showering. She silently changed into her nightgown, laying out pajama pants for him.

She turned on the fireplace for warmth and light, but otherwise turned off the lights and climbed into bed, idly stroking her stomach.

She watched her mate emerge from the bathroom, his face serious, his eyes distant, thinking something over. She admired him as he dropped his towel and reached for his pajama pants.

Feeling her desire down their bond, despite her efforts to contain it, Roger raised his head and smirked. She shrugged; it wasn't a secret.

Her mate was hot. What was she supposed to do when he appeared naked in the bedroom, the firelight highlighting the lines of his body?

His smirk turned into a full smile as he put on his pants and moved to his side of the bed, pulling back the covers. She scooted closer, and Roger let out a low growl as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek against her chest and sighing contentedly.

"Poor Roger," she murmured, running her fingers through his damp hair and cooing softly, something she rarely did.

Most of their relationship was based on laughter and teasing. But tonight, he needed something different.

She lightly ran her fingernails across his back, and Roger almost purred. Interestingly, for how much they usually wanted to be intimate, this moment wasn't particularly sexual. It was simply comfort freely offered and gratefully accepted by two people who loved each other very much.

"Tell me everything, baby," she murmured, hoping he would.

And Roger, to her surprise, did.

"It's war, Cora," he sighed.

"Really?" she asked, unable to hide the dread in her voice. "Did they declare it?"

"No," he said, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around her waist. "But we were in meetings with the Atalaxians all day, and it's clear that's where they're headed. Dominic could tell, I could tell, Dad could tell. They've got us in a bad spot, and they want war. So they're going to declare it the minute this delegation gets back."

She sighed, dread filling her, but…they'd known this was coming, hadn't they? So what had him so upset?

"Tell me," she said quietly, nudging him down the bond, letting him know she knew there was more.

He didn't deny it, sighing heavily. "Dominic and I talked a lot tonight about what we need to do. He sent Ella to that damn dinner—"

"Really?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"We're grasping at straws, Cora," he said, defending his brother, though he shouldn't have needed to. She was glad Ella was going—there was something strange between her and the prince, and she wanted her to figure it out.

Plus, she knew Ella would never betray her mate. Even if…well, no point in voicing her suspicions now, especially if they were likely wrong. No need to stir up trouble.

"Everyone's got to do their part," Roger said, sounding bitter.

Worried, she moved closer, face to face in the dark so she could see his eyes. "Tell me what you mean," she replied, knowing there was more.

Roger sighed, closing his eyes. "Dominic asked me to take the military," he said, shaking his head. "To train the armies, to run them, to…to be at the front lines of this war, Cora."

Her blood ran cold. The idea of her mate at the front of the war—the King's brother, a clear target—filled her with dread.

And for the first time…her baby passed her the same emotion: worry.