[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
As far as I was concerned, based on the smell of breakfast, it was just another normal morning. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as Matt and I headed for the glow of the cookfire. I could hear voices drifting from the area, though nothing distinct, the sounds blending together even as we drew closer. My gaze roamed as we walked, looking around and taking in quiet motions of the waking village, of people heading about their business.
There was still an almost subdued air to everything, though, one I’d hoped that I wouldn’t sense, but did anyway.
I’d just opened my mouth to say so when Matt tensed, letting go of me as we got closer to the scent of breakfast and the light of the main cookfire, drawing away, moving faster. I blinked, glancing at him and then ahead.
I could see Hecate clinging to Phelan, her face buried against his shoulder. Leinth was standing near the fire, her expression grim, and Tala hovered near the edge of the fire, tending skillets of food, but she looked worried, too. My stomach lurched.
“Grá mo chroí,” Matt said, kneeling down next to Hecate and Phelan. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
Phelan shot me a desperate, concerned look even as Hecate let go of him and wrapped her arms around Matt. I caught the barest glimpse of her face, catching sight of tear-stained cheeks. My stomach dropped further.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t have words for what’s going on,” Phelan said, his voice hoarse. He glanced toward Matt and Hecate—Matt, who’d sat down fully and drawn her into his lap. Her face was buried against his neck, but her shoulders had stopped shaking. There was a damp spot on Phelan’s shirt.
I grimaced. “Really.”
“Really,” Phelan said, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Then, her voice muffled by Matt’s neck, came Hecate: “I’m pregnant.”