Chapter 25

February 1914…

Above the mountains and fjords of Norway, her suspicion began.

The Peregrine soared along the coastline, but Ardis bent over a toilet, missing the scenery. Nausea had hit her like a hammer, a month after the zeppelin had cast off from Kiel and left the German Empire over the horizon.

After washing her mouth and face, she left the bathroom and looked for Wendel. She found him in the dining room, sipping coffee with Konstantin. She tried to catch Wendel’s eye. Of course, he wasn’t paying any attention.

“Wendel,” she said. “Walk with me.”

He glanced at her. “After this cup?”

“No.”

When he really looked at her, he put down the cup. “Excuse me.”

Luckily, Konstantin looked oblivious as he nibbled a scone. “Please, Ardis, join us afterward. The coffee will still be hot.”

She nodded, even though the bitter aroma turned her stomach.

“Where did you want to walk?” Wendel said.

The location didn’t matter. She took him by the hand and marched him onto the promenade deck. They were alone. Outside the earthward-slanted windows, clouds streamed over mountains like dragon’s teeth.

“Wendel.”

“Yes?”

She forced herself to inhale. “I think I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows shot skyward. “Already?”

She swallowed hard, fighting nerves and nausea. “It’s like before, but worse.”

“Worse?”

“I can’t even look at food without feeling sick and I’m much too tired.”

Wendel dropped into one of the wicker chairs. He kneaded his forehead with his knuckles like it would help him understand.

“Pregnant,” he repeated.

“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.”

“But that’s so soon, after…”

“I know.” She never had her monthly bleeding after the miscarriage. “When did…”

They shared a glance. Their wedding night.

“Should we tell my doppelgänger?” Wendel said.

“Is he the father?” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you both?”

“Yes and yes?” Wendel couldn’t fight the grin on his face.

“Maybe we should wait. Until we know for sure.”

His grin faded. “I understand.”

Fear of another miscarriage rested in the marrow of her bones, though she didn’t dare say it out loud. Like it might jinx her.

“Ardis.” Wendel stood behind her and kissed her neck. “This can be our secret.”

“Of course.”

“Where do we go from here?”

She leaned against him. “The next stop on our circumnavigation is Iceland.”

“Iceland?” He made a bemused noise. “I’m no stranger to cold weather, though that might be slightly too frigid for a baby.”

“Not Icelandic babies.”

He laughed. “Touché.”

Below them, sunlight glittered like a thousand sequins on the waters off Norway.

“There’s always here.” Her stomach fluttered when she said it.

“Norway? Why?”

She turned in his arms. “Thorsten was Norwegian.”

Unease shadowed Wendel’s face. “Ah.”

“I’m a little curious about my heritage.”

“Are you considering China?”

“I’ve never been.” She laughed. “And you don’t speak any Mandarin.”

“I could learn.”

“Prussia?” she said.

He shrugged. “I have no desire to return to Prussia.”

“You don’t want your family to know about the baby?”

He narrowed his eyes before tilting his head. “Perhaps one day.”

She understood why he might not want to bring a child to meet that family, too soon, after the way they had treated him.

“Switzerland,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Chocolates and cheese and cows with bells?”

A smile shadowed his mouth. “Doesn’t that sound like a dream?”

“Better a dream than a nightmare.”

~

October 1914…

Switzerland. Even after six months, she felt like a wide-eyed stranger.

Once upon a time, travelers came to the Hotel Silbergarten to ski and see the beautiful village of Chateau-d’Oex. Since the start of the Great War, however, the tourists had been replaced by wounded prisoners of war.

Former enemies sat shoulder to shoulder in the grand restaurant of the Hotel Silbergarten. The Alps glimmered outside the windows, craggy rock crowned by snow, blue in the shadows. Beneath the forgotten chandeliers, waiters served the soldiers leek and potato soup with bread, a far cry from the fine dining of yesteryear.

Ardis sat alone, breadcrumbs on her plate, a stack of letters by her cup of peppermint tea. When she leaned over the table, her belly stopped her from reaching the letter she wanted. She scooted out of the chair and lumbered upright.

A nap sounded tempting–if she could just find a comfortable way to sleep.

She smoothed the letter flat. German, in her handwriting, though they weren’t her words. Unteroffizer Braun had been blinded by poison gas on the battlefield. They hoped he would regain his sight. Until then, Ardis wrote for him.

She checked the spelling of Unteroffizer Braun’s name before addressing an envelope to his family. He had left a wife and baby behind in Prussia. After adding a stamp, she pulled the next letter from the stack. Written in English, for Second Lieutenant Taylor, who worried about his mother in London. The Swiss Red Cross helped prisoners of war regardless of nationality. Ardis did the best she could as translator.

A waitress stopped by her table. “Bonjour. Comment allez-vous?”

“Bonjour.” Ardis wasn’t sure French would ever be her forte. “Ça va.”

The waitress smoothed her apron under her hands. “You should rest,” she said in heavily-accented English. “For the babies.”

Several of them were betting on twins. Ardis sighed. “I will.”

At this point, she just wanted the babies to be done living inside her rent-free. She wondered what they looked like. She had dreamed about taking care of them, but she could never remember their faces when she woke.

She left the hotel to drop both letters in the postbox. Grimacing, she rubbed her back. An ache had worsened over the past few days. The walk from the hotel to the village wasn’t long, but she was tired of being on her feet.

With a sigh, she started her hike down into the valley.

Wild crocuses danced in the wind, their violet petals embroidering the alpine meadow. Bells chimed on nut-brown cows out to pasture. One of them meandered nearer, mooing, and nuzzled her hand as if she had a treat.

A raven drifted from a pine tree. “Grok.”

“Krampus!” When she waved at him, he flew ahead as if racing her downhill.

Wendel had to be home.

A cramp gripped her belly. Not too painful, just unpleasant. She stopped, rubbing her belly until it didn’t feel so tight. This had been happening for weeks. When she kept walking, another cramp gripped her stomach.

She sucked in her breath. That one hurt.

Damn it, she was halfway home. It wasn’t worth climbing all the way back to the nurses just so they could tell her this was another false alarm. Besides, she was hungry yet again. She gritted her teeth and forged onward.

Chateau-d’Oex looked like a fairytale town, with half-timbered buildings and crooked chimneys. Down a cobblestoned street, a linden tree shaded a townhouse. Krampus landed in the boughs and ruffled his feathers, as if pleased he had won.

“Brat,” she said.

She wondered if Wendel was home. And if he was, if he was trying to cook dinner. He still hadn’t mastered the basics, though he hadn’t burned down the kitchen. Yet. Apparently, neither princes nor assassins cooked much.

She let herself into the townhouse. Sniffing, she didn’t smell smoke.

Sure enough, Wendel was in the kitchen, frowning at the label on a can. “Ardis?”

“What is it?”

“What does haricots verts en conserve mean?”

She shrugged. “You speak better French than I do.”

“I’m hardly a polyglot.”

“French, German, English, and Turkish.”

He shrugged with feigned innocence. “Out of necessity.”

“Why did you buy that if you don’t know what haricots verts en conserve means?”

“Rationing.”

“Right.”

He reached for a can opener. “I suppose heating the contents in a pan won’t kill us.”

She lowered herself into a chair at the table. “I’m afraid to ask what you’re cooking.”

“Dinner.” He flashed her a smile before turning to the stove. “They asked me to question three men at the morgue today.”

“You’re killing my appetite,” she said.

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound like he meant it. “The police suspected foul play, but it turned out two of the deaths were accidents.”

Wendel had been helping detectives in the city of Montreux, an hour away by train. Ardis suspected he wanted to become an inspector himself. Though he would never admit it out loud, she could hear pride in his voice.

“Do you want to know how they died?” he said.

“Not really.” Her belly tightened; she held her breath until the sensation passed.

“Ardis?” He was staring at her intently.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

She waved away his comment. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

He arched an eyebrow. “One of these days will be.”

“Hopefully soon. I’m tired of being enormous. Are the cradles ready?”

“They have been for months.”

Ardis stared into the fireplace, watching the flames crackling and spitting sparks. Her sword hung above the mantle, where it belonged. With luck, she would never need Chun Yi again, but she owed the blade her life.

“We need more wood,” she said.

Wendel glanced back at the stove. “Don’t even think about chopping it yourself.”

She waved away his comment, prepared to say something witty in return, but a cramp gripped her belly. Her breath escaped in a hiss.

Wendel stared at her. “Ardis…”

“I want to take a bath.”

He furrowed his brow but helped her undress and climb into the claw-foot tub. When he twisted the tap, pipes rattled. Blissfully hot water poured into the porcelain and eased her pain. Sighing, she sank lower in the tub.

“Thank God for indoor plumbing,” she said.

Wendel arched his eyebrows. “You complained about the cost.”

“Which was extravagant. But worth it.”

He returned to the kitchen. Across the house, he yelled, “Green beans!”

“What?” She rubbed the soap between her hands.

“Inside the mystery can.”

While she listened to the clink and clang of him bustling in the kitchen, she washed herself and shampooed her hair.

“Dinner’s ready!” Wendel called.

Gripping the sides of the bath, she stood. Her water broke in a gush. “Wendel?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe you should get the midwife.”

He dashed back into the bathroom. “What happened?”

“My water broke.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Wendel bolted from the townhouse. Through the window, she saw him run across the cobblestones. Krampus soared after him.

Her heartbeat raced with equal parts anxiety and excitement. She lowered herself into the tub, since she saw no point in getting out, and decided to rest while she could. Water lapped at her ears, her heartbeat whooshing.

Not long after, Wendel ran back into the townhouse, breathless. “Here’s the midwife.”

The midwife, a willowy woman with pewter hair, washed her hands in the sink. “How long ago did your water break?”

“Twenty minutes,” Ardis said. “Will it be long?”

“Hard to tell.” The midwife dried her hands. “Could be hours, could be days.”

“Days?” She groaned.

“Though twins can be quick.”

Quick turned out to be relative. Ardis spent the next hour in the tub, until the water cooled, and the midwife told her to walk. Though she was skeptical, Ardis dragged on a dressing gown and paced around the townhouse.

Wendel followed her into the bedroom. “What can I do to help?”

“Be patient,” Ardis said.

Another contraction hit. She gripped the bedpost and bent her head. The midwife rubbed her lower back, which helped with the ache.

“Isn’t this tedious?” Ardis said.

He twisted his mouth. “If only I could shoulder more of the burden.”

“Don’t worry, you can do all the diapers.”

Ardis didn’t have much of a break to catch her breath. The next contraction hit her hard.

“God.” She groaned through the pain. Her legs started shaking. “Can I lie down?”

“Yes,” said the midwife.

Wendel helped her into the bed, where she leaned against a pillow. Her legs still wouldn’t stop shaking. She counted the leaves on the linden tree. Around the twelfth leaf, the pain faded. Panting, she met Wendel’s gaze.

“I’m still hungry,” she said.

His eyebrows shot skyward. “Now?”

“We never had dinner.” Her laugh became a moan. “Green beans, remember?”

“You mean haricots verts en conserve.”

“Fancy.”

A little smile touched his lips. “Alas, dinner is cold.”

She tried to think of a clever reply, but the wave of pain drove the wittiness from her mind. Hunching in the bed, she grabbed fistfuls of sheets. She focused outside the window. Sunset colored the mountains pink.

It might have been an eternity or a moment later when the midwife checked Ardis.

“Nearly there,” said the midwife.

Ardis shook her head. The urge gripped her body, an overriding desire, and she gritted her teeth. “I need to push. Now.”

The midwife glanced into her eyes. “Breathe.”

Focusing on riding out the pain didn’t leave Ardis room to reply. She exhaled through her nose as she surrendered to the urge to push.

Wendel paced at the foot of the bed, his face pale, and kept glancing at her face.

“Push,” the midwife said. “Even harder.”

This time, her baby was born. A little girl, tiny and wrinkled, let out an indignant wail. She scrunched up her face and punched the air.

Ardis laughed, her eyes brimming with tears. “Look at her.”

“A girl,” Wendel said.

“She didn’t want to come out.”

The midwife let Ardis hold the baby against her breast, though only for a moment. “The second baby will be here any minute.”

Wendel took the baby girl, smiling at her red little face, and just in time.

Another contraction, hard and fierce, hit Ardis. The urge to push overwhelmed her mind. She bore down with every muscle in her body.

Her second baby was born–a boy, crying a little quieter than his sister.

“Twins,” Wendel said, as if he hadn’t quite believed it.

The midwife handed him a pair of scissors, which he used to cut the umbilical cords, before helping with the afterbirth.

Finally, Ardis had time to rest. She lay back against the pillow, her hair damp with sweat. A baby suckled industriously at each breast. She gazed down at their tiny little heads. Both of the twins had Wendel’s black hair.

“What color are their eyes?” she said.

“His are darker,” Wendel said. “Like yours. Hers are grayish.”

She glanced into his eyes. “Like yours?”

“Perhaps.” He knelt by the bed and stroked his daughter’s hair under his knuckle. “What will we name them?”

“I’ve always loved the name Viola.”

“Viola.” He touched his son’s minuscule toes. “And Wolfgang?”

Ardis smiled. “We can call him Wolfie.”

“Wolfgang and Viola.” It sounded right.

Bliss settled in her bones. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with her wrist.

“Ardis,” Wendel murmured. “The twins…”

She met his gaze. “Yes?”

“One of them has necromancy.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked into his eyes, surprise fighting fear, and she knew he worried for the baby. He remembered his rejection from his family. His life as an outsider. Necromancers were abominations.

She bent down to kiss Wolfgang’s head, followed by Viola’s.

“Well,” she said, “you have your work cut out for you.”

He laughed. “Evidently, I do.”