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The sight and smell of food had made Saeryn feel increasingly sick throughout the course of breakfast, although she ate nothing and said almost as little. It wasn’t until Athanar made his unexpected and shocking offer that she realized just how ill she actually was. Her mouth went perfectly dry and her stomach became uncomfortably warm. She swallowed with difficulty.
“I don’t know. I have to think. I can not. . .excuse me.” She stood up hastily with no attempt at politeness nor with any disguise of her immediate distress and ran off as quickly as she could with one hand clamped firmly over her mouth. It took more strength of will and stomach than she thought she possessed to reach the door in time.
Her body trembled with the effort of vomiting. Between her gasping efforts, her thoughts came in broken fragments. “Adopting me? The baby can be heir? This would solve. . .that problem. Adopting me? I’m married. It’s ridiculous. It will solve the problem.” Her shivering abated and she regained her composer. She went to the kitchen to drink some water and then walked back to the hall. Everyone at the table ceased speaking as she came near and turned to face her.
“Lord Athanar,” Saeryn said. “From what I understand of your offer, I am inclined to accept, but I should like to speak more in-depth of what it would mean before I agree entirely.
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