“Fine,” Eva said with a scowl, evidently not liking the sound of that. Then her expression changed. “I would like to ask you just one thing, though.”
Pia studied the other woman. She would make more of an ally with Eva through cooperation than not. Maybe this could be a bloodless coup after all. They might never grow to like each other, but achieving a partnership before they reached South Carolina would be good enough for her. So she said, “Shoot.”
Eva ran her black gaze down Pia’s body as she sucked a tooth. Finally she looked up and met Pia’s stare. “You even pregnant?”
Pia’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t realized people were beginning to gossip about that as well. “You can’t tell from my scent?”
“You have a strange scent,” Eva said. “None of us have smelled anything like you before, and we don’t know what to make of it.”
Her face twisted into a wry grimace. Fair enough. She beckoned with her fingers and said, “Come here.”
Eyes sparkling with curiosity, Eva stepped forward. Pia reached for her hand, and Eva allowed her to take it. Pia settled Eva’s flattened palm over the small bump of her stomach and waited. She watched Eva’s face transform into wonder.
The dampening spell that Pia used to camouflage the natural luminescence of her skin also seemed to mask the peanut’s presence from others, at least from a distance. The pregnancy didn’t remain hidden when someone actually came in contact with Pia’s body. Even though the peanut was still very small for twenty-eight weeks, the muted roar of Power at her midsection was unmistakable even for someone who was not medical personnel.
Wonder rounded Eva’s eyes. “Holy shit,” she whispered.
Pia rubbed her eyes with thumb and forefinger. Yeah. Holy, as it were, shit.
“I’m confused,” Eva said, frowning. “It doesn’t seem very big but it’s carrying a helluva wallop.”
“I’m about twenty-eight weeks along,” Pia told her. She could see Eva doing the math.
Eva’s frown deepened. “Shouldn’t it be bigger?”
“Nobody knows,” Pia said with a tired sigh. “The doctor says he’s quite healthy, and that’s all that matters. Based on his current development, she’s estimating a gestation period between seven hundred thirty and seven hundred fifty days.” She watched the other woman do the math again.
Eva blanched. “You’re going to be pregnant for two years.”
“Seems likely,” Pia said between her teeth. “Did you know elephants have a gestation period of twenty-two months? Apparently dragon babies might be more complicated. And before you think to ask, no, I’m not laying an egg so he can gestate the rest of the way outside my body. No, no such luck. This baby’s going to be a live birth.”
Somehow.
Eva looked at her in poorly concealed horror. “Won’t he have . . . claws? And not cute tiny, puppy ones?”
“We’re a little concerned about that,” Pia said grimly. “And he hasn’t yet shown any sign of his human form.” Some Wyr babies were born in their animal form, and others were born in human form. Still others, if they were not already in the same form as their mother, shapeshifted while in utero, although that was more rare. “The doctor wants to plan a C-section.”
“I see.” Eva pulled her hand away and stepped back.
They had roused the baby. Pia felt an invisible presence settle around her neck and shoulders, a bright, fierce loving innocence. It was a waking version of what she dreamed so often these days, the peanut draping his graceful, delicate white body around her, his long, transparent wings tucked close to his body. Nobody else but her could sense when he did that, not even Dragos. She put a hand to the base of her neck with a small, private smile.
“Guess we better get you to Charleston,” Eva said. “You got a job to do.”
“I guess we’d better,” said Pia.
“I just want to know one more thing,” said Eva.
Pia turned to unlock the restroom door. “What’s that?”
Eva put her hand on the door and held it shut while she met Pia’s gaze pointedly. “Tell me we can change radio stations now.”
Pia bit back a chuckle. “Yes, please. Let’s get off the elevator.”
Eva took hold of the handle and pulled the door open. The other five in their group were hanging in the hallway, looking thoughtful, their arms piled high with food bags and drink carriers. Johnny was already eating a sandwich.
Reaching a détente with Eva was one hurdle down. Now all Pia wanted to do was reach their rented estate and settle in for the evening. She wouldn’t be meeting with any Elves until the next day.
She couldn’t wait for nightfall. She only hoped she wasn’t so excited that she couldn’t fall asleep, because that would seriously screw up everything.
TWO
After seeing off Pia’s mini-cavalcade, Dragos flew back to the city.
He missed her ferociously already, the ache so bad it hurt his chest. Each wing stroke that took him further away from her felt wrong as hell. They had not separated since they had come together and mated last May.
Wyr could survive separations from their mates, sometimes for years if necessary, but it always felt like privation. He almost called her back to him a half-dozen times. Only the thought of their shared mission kept him silent, although his massive jaws ached from how hard he clenched them.
When he reached Manhattan, he spiraled down through the frigid air to land in a large, cordoned-off area in a parking lot by Four Pennsylvania Plaza. After he shimmered into a shapeshift, he let go of the cloaking spell and strode toward the main entrance of the massive, round Madison Square Garden building.
He glanced up as he approached. The banner had gone up weeks before. It was several stories tall and very simple. It read SENTINEL GAMES, with the dates for this week down below, along with the simple graphic of a gigantic, crimson dragon rampant.
That’d do.
The twenty-thousand by ten-thousand-foot arena seated 19,500 and it had all the latest multimedia technology, with giant television screens to show spectators in close-up the details of what occurred down below. The arena had undergone extensive renovations over the last several months, heavily subsidized by Cuelebre Enterprises, down to and including the Cuelebre Enterprises Executive Suite, which perched above the rest of the arena like an aerie.
All the tickets for the week of the Games were long gone. The tickets were for four-hour slots and had been free on a first-come/first-serve basis to any Wyr or resident of New York State who applied. The first ones to go were on the last day, when the final round of contests would take place and he would name his next seven sentinels. A limited amount of seating and suites had also been made available, for an exorbitant price, to any of the other races who were willing to pay.
And they were all willing to pay. Dignitaries from all the other Elder Races, along with many human nationalities, would be attending.
People would watch the Games for a variety of reasons. Some would be evaluating the strength of the Wyr demesne and making notes of the personalities involved. The week would showcase a lot of talent, so no doubt some, including Cuelebre Enterprises, would be headhunting for a selection of opportunities that lay outside the sentinel positions.
Also, many Wyr would gain a sense of security from knowing their demesne remained strong and capable of handling any threat. Still others would watch for the blood sport, which was barbaric, of course, but Dragos had never made any bones about the fact that the Games themselves were barbaric. They were supposed to be. PETA members were completely outraged and utterly confused.