Chapter 85 HER INSTINCT
Celestia’s Pov
I did not believe a single word of what Elder Janice just said. Not one word of it. I sat there in my seat watching Medea being helped off the platform by Raphael and the pack of doctors and I knew in my bones that this was all fake.
Lucian leaned close to me and whispered.
"What do you think?" Lucian asked.
"I think she is not pregnant. This entire thing is a performance," I said quietly.
“How can you be so sure?” Lucian asked, his voice sharp, laced with skepticism. “Elder Janice confirmed there was life,” he continued, almost defensively, as if repeating it would solidify the truth in everyone’s mind. Yet the certainty in his words didn’t fully reach his eyes. Doubt flickered there, subtle but undeniable. He studied me, searching for signs of deception, hesitation, anything that might prove my claim was false. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for my response, knowing the weight of this question could unravel everything in an instant.
"Elder Janice was paid to confirm there was life. Did you see how she worded everything? She gave herself an exit strategy. If Medea suddenly loses this baby Elder Janice can just say she warned everyone it was troubled from the start," I said.
"That is true. But what if Medea really is pregnant and it really is troubled?" Lucian asked.
I turned to look at him and shook my head.
"I have been through pregnancy Lucian. I know what it looks like. I know what it feels like and Medea is not showing any signs of being four months along," I said.
"What signs?" Lucian asked.
"Look at her body. Really look," I said.
We both watched as Medea sank into a chair, her movements precise, almost rehearsed, as a doctor offered her a glass of water. She took it gracefully, though her fingers trembled slightly, betraying a fragility she tried to hide. The ceremonial gown clung to her in all the right places, tailored perfectly to her figure, accentuating curves that drew eyes despite the solemnity of the room. Every motion, every measured sip, seemed calculated, and I couldn’t tell whether it was poise, fear, or something else entirely. My gaze lingered longer than I intended, caught between curiosity, suspicion, and a strange, unnameable apprehension that had begun to coil in my stomach.
"Her breasts are not enlarged. When you are four months pregnant your breasts grow significantly because your body is preparing to nurse. Medea looks the same as she did before she announced her pregnancy," I said.
"Maybe she is just small," Lucian suggested.
"And there is no glow. Every pregnant woman I have ever met has a certain glow about them. Their skin looks different, their whole energy is different. Medea does not have that," I continued.
"Could she just be one of those women who does not glow?" Lucian asked.
"And look at her belly. Even through that gown you should be able to see some slight roundness at four months. Some women show earlier than others but everyone shows something by that point. Her stomach is completely flat," I said.
Lucian studied Medea more carefully.
"You are right. Now that you point it out she does not look pregnant at all," Lucian said.
“Exactly. And I know this because I remember being pregnant,” I said, my voice steady but carrying the memory’s weight. “I remember how my body changed, week by week, how each day brought something new—aches I never expected, cravings that surprised me, exhaustion that pulled me under. I remember how I felt different, how everything about me shifted in ways no one else could see or understand. The very air I breathed, the rhythm of my heartbeat, even my thoughts—they all felt altered, connected to something fragile and alive inside me. You don’t forget that. Not ever.”
My voice got thick with emotion when I said that because thinking about my pregnancy with Asher brought back so many memories. Good memories of feeling him move inside me, talking to him before he was born, imagining what he would look like.
And then the horrible memory of having him ripped away from me when he was just minutes old.
Lucian put his hand over mine.
"Are you okay?" Lucian asked.
"Yes. I am fine. Just remembering," I said.
"We are going to get him back. Today. Very soon you will see him," Lucian said.
I nodded and tried to focus on that thought instead of the painful memories.
“Back to Medea,” Lucian said, his tone controlled but edged with suspicion. “You claim to know what being pregnant feels like. Fine. But what else tells you she is faking? Be specific. I need more than intuition.” His eyes drilled into me, unrelenting, as if trying to strip my thoughts bare. “Every gesture, every hesitation, every carefully staged expression matters,” he continued. “If you’re certain, then tell me what exactly gives her away. Convince me this isn’t just your imagination.” The room seemed to shrink around us, tension coiling tight, demanding the truth—or a lie that could crumble under his gaze.
"The fear. Look at her expression. She is terrified. But not the right kind of terrified," I said.
"What do you mean by the right kind?" Lucian asked.
"When I was pregnant with Asher I was constantly afraid of losing him. Especially after I learned about his condition. That fear was always there in the back of my mind. But it was a different fear than what I saw on Medea's face," I said.
"Different how?" Lucian asked.
"I was afraid of miscarriage. Of something being wrong with my baby. Of not being able to protect him. That is the fear a pregnant woman has but Medea is not afraid of those things. She is afraid of being caught, being exposed. That is completely different," I said.
Lucian was quiet for a moment and I could tell he was processing what I said.
"You really believe she made the whole thing up?" Lucian asked.
"Yes. I think she announced the pregnancy to get out of having to apologize to me and then she bribed Elder Janice to confirm it even though there is no baby. And now she is trapped in a lie that keeps getting bigger," I said.
"But why would she do something so risky? Eventually, people will figure it out," Lucian said.
“I think she was desperate,” I said, voice firm despite the turmoil inside me. “She and Eclipse probably believed they could figure something out later, a way to fix this before anyone found out. Maybe stage a miscarriage, maybe even attempt to get genuinely pregnant—but I don’t know what their plan truly is. What I do know, with absolute certainty, is that right now there is no baby. None. Nothing alive inside her. Every sign, every instinct, every observation tells me the truth, even if they’re counting on secrecy and deception to make us believe otherwise. I won’t be fooled.”
"If you are right this is huge. We could expose her," Lucian said.
"We could. But I want to focus on getting Asher first. Once he is safe then we can deal with Medea and her fake pregnancy," I said.
"Agreed. Speaking of which Crane should be starting the distraction any moment now," Lucian said.
I looked around the hall, scanning the crowd carefully, and my eyes landed on Crane near the feast tables. He wasn’t just lingering—he was positioning himself deliberately, sliding closer to where some of the Elders were standing, like a shadow stalking its prey. Every movement was precise, measured, calculated to avoid notice while still exerting quiet influence. The subtle shift in his posture, the way he angled his body, made it clear he was watching, waiting, ready to step in at the exact moment it mattered most. Something about him radiated control, silent threat, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away, knowing he was up to something far more dangerous than simply mingling.
"I am ready," I said.
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. In just a few minutes I was going to see my son for the first time in five years. The son I had been told was too sick to see me. The son who had been kept from me all this time.
I watched the ceremony area and saw people starting to move around now that the official blessing was over. Some were going to get food, and others were talking in groups. The attention was no longer focused on one central point.
This was the perfect time to slip away.
Then I saw Crane bump into Elder Marcus and spill a drink all over the Elder's ceremonial robes. It looked completely accidental but I knew Crane had done it on purpose.
“Go now,” Lucian said.