§ § § – October 22, 2008
The other five test volunteers arrived throughout the next three days, so that by Wednesday all six—three men and three women—were ready to begin the trial. They came from around the world: Gabriella, of course; an Australian; a Swiss; a Greek; an American; and a Dutchwoman. Each had a small jar of amakarna, which Rogan examined; it happened that only Gabriella got her spice supply from him. Marina recognized the rest as coming from her father's greenhouse.
"So what's the word, then, on the antidote, where Marina is concerned?" Christian asked. They had all met in Roarke's study; Christian and Marina had greeted each other civilly, if a little distantly, and Christian made a point of staying close at Leslie's side.
"The cutoff date is fifteen days from the time the third and final dose is taken," explained Roarke. "Thus far, Marina is seven days into her trial. What have you observed?"
"I'm fine," Marina said with a wide smile. "I've had no ill effects, and I haven't needed the spice since I took the cure." She looked around the group, all of whom were watching her closely, before her gaze landed on Roarke. "I've always taken amakarna with my breakfast eggs. In just two days I've learned the true flavor of eggs, and I had no idea they tasted so good." Everyone laughed at that, even Christian.
"She's been under the close watch of two doctors at the hospital," Rogan added, "and every day she has a little blood sample taken and tested. There's no loss of essential blood nutrients; everything's as it should be. So this is looking more promising all the time."
Roarke nodded. "Very encouraging." He took in the volunteers. "It was explained to you all that there are distinct and very real dangers involved in being a test subject for this cure. After experimenting with several different substances for combating the addictive property of the spice—including jimsonweed and even belladonna—Rogan has decided the best bet is thornapple. I must emphasize, at the risk of repeating myself, that thornapple is both hallucinogenic and poisonous, and Rogan found it necessary to add slightly more than what would be considered safe for humans before he deemed the antidote capable of doing its work. Miss LiSciola seems to be responding favorably; but she is a clan member, and as such has a somewhat different physiognomy from earth humans. I don't expect you to grasp this fully; I merely wish to reiterate the risk you're all taking. If you are particularly sensitive to toxic substances, you may prefer to back out now, as your risk will surely be higher and may pose a larger threat than you are willing to take on. If so, you need only say so and you may leave without prejudice. But even those of you who are not so sensitive will quite likely find yourselves affected by the hallucinogenic qualities of the thornapple solution in the cure. If this also disturbs you, once again, you may drop out without prejudice."
The Australian, a man who looked to be a few years older than Leslie, spoke up. "Pardon me, Mr. Roarke, but you should know something. I've had to take this bloody stuff every single day ever since my parents put me on it as an infant. I'm frankly sick of it. It costs more than I like paying, and it seems the price goes up a little more every year or so. But alongside that, I feel like I'm dependent on some illicit drug, and I want to be able to get through life without having to shake that stuff all over my food. It ruins the taste of the meal, and after what I've heard about the way men on amakarna die..." He shook his head. "Well, let's just say you can't scare me off this cure, if there's even the smallest chance I can quit amakarna forever."
"I'm with him," said the American woman, and the others nodded firmly.
"You already know how I feel, Mr. Roarke," Gabriella said quietly, "and so do Uncle Christian and Aunt Leslie. The spice has cost me more than I realized mattered to me until I lost a husband because of its effect on me."
"Briella, Leslie told you—" Christian began.
"Yes, she did, and I didn't forget," Gabriella replied evenly. "But even if this cure doesn't reverse the damage the amakarna's done, at least I might have the comfort of knowing I'll never need the spice again."
"Very well," Roarke said. "Then, Rogan, I leave it to you."
Rogan cleared his throat as all eyes went to him. "I'm going to give you each three doses of the cure, through the course of one day. It's a bit late today, so that'll be tomorrow; that way all of you are on the same schedule for the trial period." Everyone nodded. "A dose is a full hundred and fifty milliliters—and taking all three, or half a liter, at once would be a bit much...atop which, the stuff doesn't exactly taste like a margarita." There was some low laughter; Christian raised a brow and peered at Rogan, who grinned a little. "So you'll each be given a dose with each of your meals tomorrow. Any other questions?" Nobody spoke, so he nodded. "In that case, we all meet tomorrow morning at eight, at my greenhouse."
The group scattered, most to the hotel where they were staying, but Gabriella with Christian and Leslie to their own home. "You can't tell me you're not even just a little afraid of what that cure might do to you," Christian said to his niece at last, as if he couldn't quite let the subject drop.
Gabriella peered at him in the rearview mirror. "I never claimed not to be afraid," she told him, and Leslie smiled at that. "But I want to be free of amakarna enough to try this. It's taken enough from me. Now I want to fight back."
Christian nodded. "Yes, I think I understand. It's taken enough from me as well, and I was never even on it." He glanced at Leslie, answering her smile with his own.
"But you've been able to get what you truly wanted, even if it took you years to do it," Gabriella pointed out. "Maybe I never will, but to be free of the spice would be enough." She studied her aunt and uncle for a moment or two, then spoke again, her tone lighter. "So tell me, how and when are you going to tell our people that you're expecting again?"
"I'll be damned if we call a press conference," snorted Christian.
Leslie let out a laugh. "We don't need a press conference. We can just call Myeko and she can scoop the entire world. She'll love that."
"The Chronicle just might hand her another raise," agreed Christian, grinning. "I must admit, I had forgotten about Myeko. She must have had indescribable fun selling her story about us when we were first married."
"I'm sure she and Nick could use a raise. They've been remodeling that farmhouse he inherited from his aunt just about ever since they moved into it together," Leslie commented. "She mentioned once that it always seems as if something else needs updating or fixing."
"Should I put it on the website as well, or wait till Myeko's had her chance to milk the story for whatever she can get from it?" Christian kidded.
"Oh, you and your suspicions of reporters," Leslie retorted, laughing and giving him a light whack in the upper arm. "When we get home, I'll give her a call and have her come over. I probably ought to tell the other girls too. It wouldn't be fair to tell only Myeko."
"Do you want a boy or a girl?" Gabriella asked.
"I don't really care," Leslie said, shrugging. "Of course, Tobias is hoping we have a boy and Karina and Susanna want a baby sister, but that's how most kids are."
Christian chuckled. "True. I don't care what we get, either. It does occur to me, however, that by the time this child is born, Ingrid may well have left us. The triplets have never known a house without her, and I wonder how much chaos we're letting ourselves in for."
"She still plans to go home, then?" queried Gabriella.
"Exactly so. Apparently she has a young man back in Lilla Jordsö, and it's time we let her get on with her own life anyway. There's no reason to assume Leslie will have more than one baby this time around, and we have three little helpers who will be nearly five by the time they become older siblings. Ingrid should be able to leave with a clear conscience; and we can put the baby in the room she uses now."
"If you do have a boy, that means both your sons will have their own rooms while your daughters are sharing," Gabriella pointed out. "Susanna and Karina might have a few words about that, if they figure it out too."
"Well, we certainly aren't going to move someone into the guest suite," Christian remarked, rolling his eyes. "I daresay we can wait for a good while before we have to really think about that. I do want to let the family in on it before we tell the rest of the world, so my Rose, if you can wait to release this to Myeko, I'd be grateful."
"Well, of course the relatives in Lilla Jordsö should know," Leslie said, patting his thigh. "It wouldn't be fair of us not to tell them first. Just don't gloat over having found out about it before anybody else back there did, Briella." She cast the young queen a teasing look, and Gabriella laughed.
It was a special enough occasion to warrant Christian's making a phone call to the royal castle, and when he'd informed the rest of his family there, he gave Leslie the phone and she revealed it to Myeko. "Holy flying coconuts!" Myeko burst out. Leslie knew she was at her desk at the newspaper, and had to grin. "You? Seriously?"
"Seriously," Leslie assured her. "I'm supposed to be due sometime in May, but even Dr. Hannaford isn't sure of the precise date, probably because I can't really remember the last day I had a period. I just knew it was in the summer and that was it. Anyway, while you're working up a big fat scoop, that should give me enough time to tell the other girls, so you won't have to feel as if they learned it through the paper like the riffraff."
"I can't wait to hear what Tabitha has to say," Myeko remarked, snickering. "After all her moaning and groaning about being pregnant...now she has company, so she better shut up once and for all."
Tabitha was astonished. "Are you really pregnant? You must have been shocked, since you and Christian never planned for any more after the triplets."
"Shock is a good word for it," Leslie agreed. "But just think, now you have somebody to be pregnant with. And whatever happens, this really will be the last one."
"Sure it will," said Camille through a laugh when Leslie told her the same thing. "Then this one'll turn two or three and you'll discover you're expecting yet again. Beware of famous last words—that's one of my mother's favorite sayings, you know."
"Bite your tongue," Leslie shot back with overdone affrontery. "This is really one too many as it is, but since it's on the way, we'll readjust. But we'll see to it that it's not famous last words at all."
Christian and Leslie then told Ingrid, whose face went slack with amazement before guilt and resignation crept into her eyes. In quiet jordiska she told them, "I will stay, Your Highnesses. You'll need extra help when the baby is born."
"Ingrid," Christian said gently, "listen to me. It's entirely your decision to stay or go, but you should never feel obligated merely because you think we'll have trouble handling our own children without assistance. You're not so far from your thirtieth birthday now, and it's past time you were allowed your own life. Your fiancé may not have the patience to wait for you forever, in any case. We told you because eventually you'll see the physical evidence of Leslie's pregnancy, and we didn't want you wondering needlessly. There's no reason to believe we'll have more than one infant this time around."
Leslie spoke in slow but correct jordiska to Ingrid. "You can leave when you plan to leave, and you need have no fears or guilt about it. It's your turn to have your own children." She smiled, and at last Ingrid smiled back, relief on her face.
"I'm still going to miss her, though," Leslie admitted that night, long after bedtime when she and Christian lay awake, for different reasons. "The triplets seem to think of her as a third parent. I just hope that they'll feel ready to grow up a little by the time she leaves us. I'd hate to find out I have a real infant and three aspiring ones."
Christian laughed a little, but it had an absentminded quality to it, and she rolled her head on her pillow to eye him in the starglow filtering through the skylight over their bed. "My love?" she questioned softly.
"It's months yet before Ingrid leaves," he murmured, gazing into the square of outer space that showed through the skylight. "That isn't what I'm worried about. If something happens in that trial...especially to Briella...I just don't know. I have very strong misgivings about all this. Why did it have to be a poisonous substance that Rogan had to use?"
Leslie was silent, sensing the rhetorical nature of the question; after a moment, he sighed and rolled over to face her. "I'm sorry, my Leslie Rose. I never should have taken out my frustrations over amakarna on you. Rogan and Marina are the ones responsible, and they did need volunteers for the trial. I just wish my niece hadn't rushed in with a misguided ambition to heroism, that's all."
"I think she just wanted to be free of the spice, like she told us earlier today," Leslie said reflectively, cuddling against him and kissing his chest. "There's really nothing else we can do but stand by and wait, and have Rogan and Marina and Father monitor the people in the trial, and hope for the best."
"If only I weren't so certain that someone's going to die," Christian said, voice so soft and muffled that she almost didn't hear him. "I can only hope I'm thoroughly wrong, that my gut instincts will fail me this time."
Leslie scowled unseen at his chest, wishing he would stop fearing and assuming the worst, but pretty sure that nothing she could say would change his mind. She let out a sigh, murmured, "Good night," and closed her eyes, though she knew she wouldn't sleep for some time to come. Rogan, you and Marina had better be right...
"Leslie?" Christian said questioningly, sounding puzzled.
"Just once, I wish you'd have a little faith, Christian," she said softly. "Just once."
He made a noise low in his throat and wrapped an arm around her. "I know you're probably exasperated with me, but consider the reason. Too much has happened that in-volves that spice, and the last occurrence only a week ago. It's all but impossible for me to have any faith where amakarna is concerned. Briella seems to think even the risk of death is worth freeing herself of the need for it..." He let loose a long sigh and flopped over onto his back, again gazing through the skylight. "Perhaps it's only the uninformed, merely earth-human prince talking here, but the method seems highly suspect to me."
"In that case, my suggestion is that you discuss it with Father," Leslie said, smoothing the skin on his chest. "You'd accept his explanations, wouldn't you?"
"I'm actually surprised that he's going along with this. I took him to be a far wiser and more cautious sort, and yet he clearly has no objections to the speed and limited scope of this trial. It's as well all of you kept it under wraps; the scientific and medical worlds would be in a massive uproar for untold ages should it become public. And I suspect that at some point, someone's going to talk about it. It doesn't matter what you threaten in the quest to keep something a closely guarded secret; the more people who know about it, the greater the likelihood that someone will tell anyway."
She realized then that Christian wasn't in the mood to be convinced, and gave up, rolling over onto her other side and sliding a protective hand over her abdomen. She stared unseeingly into the dimness, for the first time letting herself wonder whether Christian might just be right. There was nothing for it but to wait and see, but she felt twinges of unease and scowled in self-disgust. It seemed he'd infected her with his nervousness after all. It was an effort for her to push the whole subject from her mind and try to think about the tiny new life growing deep inside her. Names, she thought with the slightest of smiles, that's one thing you can think about. Names. I wonder if we're going to have as much trouble naming this one as we did the triplets...
The bed jostled and she felt Christian curl his body around hers, slowly sliding an arm over her own and rubbing her hand with his fingertips. "I'll have a talk with Mr. Roarke tomorrow, my Rose, I promise," he said softly. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"About the baby," she murmured.
"Are you still ambivalent about it?" he queried.
"A little bit, but I'm getting used to it. Of course, it's early. Wait till I get big and bloated, and my ankles are wider than my thighs, and I set up a tent in the bathroom, and I feel the baby kicking everything between my lungs and my kidneys. I guess everybody better just get out of my way then, because I'll be impossible to live with."
Christian's silent chuckling buffeted her back and she couldn't help smiling, for it was reassuring. "Oh, my Rose, you're priceless. Fortunately for you, there's still time to get used to this before you really begin to suffer. And incidentally, this time I think we'd better begin discussing names very early on. If what we went through with the triplets is any indicator, we might be able to settle on a boy's name and a girl's name to choose from just about the time the baby is born, as long as we start first thing in the morning."
To her own surprise, Leslie burst out laughing and had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from waking up everyone else in the house; Christian's chortling became audible, and they snuggled together, finally relaxing. They fell asleep with Christian tucking his body around Leslie's, his fingers intertwined with hers across her stomach, as though both parents were protecting the child they had recently created.