"Get me ink and paper," Julissa said, voice flat as the candlelight as the doctor hesitated. "Madam?" the physician answered, hand hovering above the small silver tray. "Now." She kept her hand on the bedpost. She would not let a tremor show. The doctor swallowed. "Very well. One moment." He moved like a man moving through fog, careful of every sound. "Tell me plainly," Julissa said as he returned. "Is it true?" He set down the tray. "Yes. You are with child." "No." She said it like a correction to a misheard line. "Tell me what you see." "Two months, perhaps three. Strong heartbeat. Everything looks—" He stopped, then chose words. "Good. Stable." Julissa allowed her shoulders to relax a fraction. "Good," she repeated. It was a small sound, not a laugh and not a sob. It was a thing that arranged itself into resolve. Her maid, Mae, hovered in the doorway. "Madam," Mae whispered. "There's news in the lower hall." "Speak," Julissa commanded. Mae shut the door and came closer. "The kitchen boy says Master Hernando has been seen at the Red Sleeve. He left in the carriage just past dusk." Julissa's fingers tightened on the bedpost. "The Red Sleeve?" "Yes. They say a new favorite's arrived. The carriage bore a blue sash, like the theatre girls who travel with the troupe." Mae said it fast, as if speed could make it less harsh. The doctor cleared his throat. "Madam, please rest. Physical strain—" "Not yet