The phone rang beside Connie's bed. Despite how sick she felt, she reached over to grab it. She didn't want to miss anything, especially if the agents found a clue leading to Jason's whereabouts.

The caller ID said "Trysta".

She lay back and laid the phone down on the bed beside her, forcing herself to breathe. She closed her eyes, blocking out the light.

Thankfully, the wave of morning sickness subsided.

Lately, she'd been lying in bed most of the morning because of how bad the morning sickness had become. About a month of this. It felt much longer.

Early on, she'd called Dr. Armeen, worried that it could be an indication something was wrong with the baby. Armeen had assuaged her fears, telling her it usually didn't mean anything, except—"Morning sickness is sometimes more severe with a multiple pregnancy." Those words shot like lightning through Connie's mind.

At the time, it hadn't been long since her last checkup, so it didn't make sense to go in for an ultrasound when the baby was probably too small to see anyway.

Plus, she didn't feel like she was ready to know.

In a way, multiples would be fun. But twins (the most likely) would also mean more risks.

She couldn't handle that.

And she wanted to wait for Jason to be there for her next ultrasound.

But now she wondered—was waiting the best choice? What was more important than the babies' safety? Her fear was counterproductive if it kept the babies from being as safe as possible.

Babies. She was already thinking in plural…. Just in case.

Maybe I'd better get an ultrasound.

Since it's late October, I'm definitely over eight weeks along. They'll probably be able to see something. Though multiple babies can be small….

But the next appointment—for the first trimester—is just two weeks away. Probably best to wait; I'm counting from August 18th, not August 9 like the doctor is….

Maybe Jason will be back by then.

Though—her heart sank— she couldn't exactly count on that.

He might never come back.

Or it might be—months.

I might have to have my baby without him.

I can't do this alone. He needs to be here. Please please bring him back. It's been too long…

She looked at her phone again, feeling a wave of queasiness. Quickly, she shut her eyes. Even the small amount of light sneaking through the blackout curtains made her head swim. The meds helped the rest of the day, but the mornings were still excruciating. As long as it was dark and quiet, she was fine.

October 25th, her phone displayed.

Two months and two days since he left.

Not a sign of Jason.

They were finding new leads all the time. Tasha updated her occasionally; she had gotten back into Robin's good graces after a successful op and been able to interrogate Karl, who had eventually given her some clues. His security system was connected to a loose network that oversaw orphanages and foster homes. Most of these had been discovered, vindicating Connie's theory. Now, Tasha was finding leads, as they stayed operating, in the dark about their exposure. Observing them might lead to finding clients, middlemen—and possibly connections to a central organization.

Jeanne, who had found Esther, kept her updated periodically, although the updates were now fewer and further between. She wasn't sure if she was just busy or they hadn't found much lately… Last time, she'd told her about a whole collection of new cells they'd just broken open. They'd found client lists… saved more kids from the traffickers…. Connie felt guilty for being disappointed. She hoped for a clue from the evidence they gathered, but if they'd found one, they hadn't let her know.

Dana had called just a few days ago and let her know her op was at an end. The ringleader of the zyx cell had led to human trafficking cells… which the agents were following up with. The ringleader had been arrested, and Dana was able to write her article, clearing Kovane of wrongdoing, implicating the ringleader's contact, the lab assistant Logan Morgan, who had funneled zyx out for his own personal gain.

"I'll keep investigating quietly," said Dana. "In case there's more to this story… and Morgan is just a fall guy." In the meantime, she was catching up with her husband, Sam, who had been the mole inside Kazfaq HQ and revealed the lead about Kazfaq's shell company in Austria. He was taking a break before his next case— he'd proved himself to the MSS boss, Andronova.

"I'm so proud of him," said Dana. "Getting recognition in his dream job out of the gate!"

It made Connie's heart ache all the more for her agent. Dana must've sensed that, for she said, "He's just as determined to help find Jason as I am. Maybe I'll even join forces with him somehow. At least, we can compare notes—as far as security allows."

"Thank you," Connie had said, mostly feeling hollow and worn out.

Saul also kept Connie updated, although he wasn't as central to the case. He felt rather useless in his role—what Connie could empathize with. But after his experience, he didn't feel up to going back out in the field.

"Tasha said it might help to confront my abuser… she wished she'd have had the chance with the one who hurt her. I… don't know if I'm up to that. But it does help to know Samar can't hurt anyone anymore. Maybe if I go with Leila…. Then I can get back to doing what I can to find Jason. There really is no excuse—if it helps, I'm going to do it."

"Don't feel like you have to—"

"I've been taking care of the kids… which is important… but— they can mostly take care of themselves. It's the ones who are lost who need my help…. I've got to get past this, if only for myself… for my family's sake…."

Connie hadn't heard from Amber or Markov, who were deep undercover in Austria. So was Whit; it was hard to think of him out there, in danger. She couldn't lose another family member. So she didn't think of him if she could help it. But there was an empty space where he should be….

She also hadn't heard from Sierra since she'd gone off on her mission, immersed in her new persona.

She wished she could do something. But she couldn't do much even when she was in top shape. She was exhausted from losing Jason; she was exhausted from looking for him, wringing out the meager resources she had. Everyone else had a lot more to give…. She had almost no chance of finding him, if she was being realistic. She could look online, but Eugene (who she'd been calling more and more often—he helped with her homesickness) was so far above her league in that department there was no use comparing. She basically had to search manually, which meant looking at horrific images—and she didn't have the strength to do that anymore. Aside from it being traumatic just to see things like that, she began to see Jason in them. Imagine them doing the same things to him…. And with the morning sickness, she barely had the energy to survive, much less do anything….

And the baby was her priority… even above Jason. She had to minimize stress as much as possible…

It's not like I haven't accomplished some things…. I thought of the theory that led to the security companies…

I helped that boy— Amar.

It was a good thing she'd been there. Otherwise, who knew what would've happened to him.

For Trysta to actually—think of family reputation first, rather than of those they'd hurt… to hush it up….

That's why I can't go back there. Not in this condition. I felt like I had an ally, but when Trysta implied that Zar had assaulted someone before, and they'd hushed it up… That it was less likely to stay quiet now that it was nobility and not a servant—as if nobility was… better somehow… Trysta might have explanations, excuses, but she didn't want to hear them.

She flipped over onto her stomach, daring herself to sleep.

When she woke, she felt better, but weighed down, as if her body had been filled with sand while she was asleep. Dreams clung to the insides of her eyelids. She looked at the clock. Two thirty! She'd missed lunch… She didn't feel like eating, but she needed to keep up her strength. At least liquids.

She dragged the cup off the bedstand and sipped from the straw in it. The lukewarm water cooled her throat. She set the empty cup back and slowly pushed herself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Then pushed aside the curtains to reveal a beautiful sunny day.

The trees had lost most of their leaves. Each leaf ripped from its branch was a stark reminder of the time separating her from Jason.

She almost shut the curtains again, but felt that at least she should experience some daylight, or she wouldn't be able to sleep at night.

Not good for the babies.

Might as well think of them as plural… It's worth the devastation of "losing" one if it makes me extra careful so I don't actually lose one…

Although… there is such a thing as too careful….

Just resting all the time isn't good for us.

She sauntered into the breakfast room, which was kind of an all-day room now, stocked with snacks and light meals.

She rummaged through the fridge and cupboard. Chose some peanut butter crackers, a yogurt, and tomato soup, although just looking at the soup made her stomach flip over, so she avoided it, and she only ate some of the yogurt and crackers.

I'll have to graze to keep up enough calories…

Which reminds me. Is it the day?

She wandered out into the foyer.

Laughter from the yard. The kids all went to school online but today was apparently an exception. That might mean that their next family member was arriving soon…

The sunlight flashed into her eyes as she stepped across the driveway. It was unseasonably warm, but a crisp wind blew the leaves in a whorl across her path. The triplets were in the gazebo, playing with their kittens. James and his parents were there, too. They seemed to recede further into the distance the further she walked; her vision blurred. The ground dragged at her legs, and they became too rubbery to walk on, so she sank to her knees in front of a rosebush, its leaves seared burnt orange. She picked up a few fallen leaves; they were soft and weightless in her palms and fluttered away with a breath of wind to vanish in the grass.

She leaned her head in her arms, her forehead in the grass, adoring the kiss of fallen raindrops—on her nose, her cheeks, blending into her hair.

A touch on her shoulder, so soft she wondered if she'd imagined it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, subtle and cautious. Golden hair. Startled green eyes.

Aurora held a kitten in her arms. Connie sat up and Aurora held out the kitten tentatively. Connie reached out to hold it, corralling it between her legs, and pet it. Aurora knelt beside her. Her hair was tied back with a blue ribbon; it was shorter now, but still fell past her shoulders. Darya had cut off the dyed red ends of the triplets' hair, the last tangible remnants of their old lives.

The girls had blossomed, shedding a lot of their fear, but the beauty around them couldn't erase their trauma. It would take a long time to work through everything with their therapist. In the meantime, the kittens had given the girls something to focus on, something to care for. Caring for another being especially mattered to Aurora. She'd become more at ease this past month.

Her kitten had been the most scared, and she'd been extremely patient with it. Now they went everywhere together. It showed Aurora's trust in Connie that she actually trusted her with little Snowball.

"There will be real snow pretty soon," said Connie. "Maybe you can play in it together."

"It might be too cold for Snow."

"That's true."

"I will bring some inside and see if she likes it." She looked over at her parents, who were approaching, James behind them, holding Avara's hand, Arina holding Avara's. "Oh—maybe I shouldn't bring it in the house."

"You can ask."

"Oh. I always forget… They used to punish me if I asked questions."

"That's true," said Roderick as he approached. "I never ever want to hurt you. If I do accidentally— I want you to let me know. That's one of the rules. I'll get punished if I break it."

Aurora's eyes widened. "Who will punish you?"

"I'll make it up to you, I mean."

"It looks like they're here," said Darya, looking into the distance.

Connie couldn't see anything beyond the bushes, but she could hear a car rumbling.

Aurora crouched down and Arina joined her, holding her kitten. Connie handed Snowball to Aurora and they huddled close. Avara stood on tiptoe to peer above the bushes, her kitten wriggling in her hands. James stood beside her.

"You don't have to be scared," said Connie. "It's a good surprise."

"I'm still scared," said Aurora. Arina was shaking. Her sister wrapped her arm around her.

"You don't have to look. It might be fun to see, though."

"I—I can't."

"We can wait here together til they're gone."

Roderick, Darya, James, and Avara met the visitors. Connie could hear muffled voices beyond the bushes. One was an unfamiliar male voice; probably a good thing Aurora and Arina hadn't gone out.

A loud whinny, amplified by a tinny echo.

Aurora gasped. "What's that!"

"The pony."

"Pony?"

Connie nodded, unable to keep the smile from her face. "Your parents got you a pony after you said you wanted one."

"I didn't really think—" She rubbed her sister's head, ruffling her hair a little. "Hey. It's not scary. It's our new horse!"

"Horse?" said Arina, looking up.

"Yes," said Aurora, smiling.

"Do you want me to tell you what I see?" said Connie.

Aurora and Arina nodded.

Connie stood. A tall Romani man was leading a white pony out of a horse trailer. Its height was not far below the man's shoulder, so it was true it was more like a horse than a pony.

"She's white," said Connie, looking down at the girls.

"Like Snowball!" said Aurora.

"She's got long mane and tail. She's very pretty."

"I… want to show Snow." She stood carefully and lifted the kitten up to see. Slowly Arina joined her, cuddling her kitten, Snowbelle, close to her chest.

"Wow," said Arina.

The girls watched as the man led the pony out to the small barn and pasture in the back. They didn't want to join the others yet; they were too scared of strangers. Eventually the man left with the empty trailer, and Connie walked with the girls out to the back of the barn. The pony was prancing around, getting used to her new surroundings. She had a broad pasture and rolling hills to herself.

"What's her name?" said Aurora, standing in the doorway.

"You can name her," said Roderik beside her.

"There's only one… who gets to?"

"You can all choose," said Darya. "But if you like the horse, we can get one for each of you."

"Raura," said Avara, "you can name this one since you wanted a horse most."

"Okay," said Aurora. She set down Snowball and the kitten ran off to play with the others, a ball of white fluff tumbling on the barn's cement floor, jumping into the haybales beyond the stalls.

"Won't she get lonely all by herself?" said Arina. "Maybe we better get another horse right away."

"We could get another animal," said Roderick. "Like a goat—"

"Could we?" said Avara. "Or a sheep. Or a goose or—"

"That's too many," said Aurora.

"Not if it's what you want," said Darya. "We have room."

"You can't get them all just for us."

Darya crouched down, gently slid a strand of hair back from her face. "You're my dream come true. I want to shower you with beauty and love and life."

A tear slid down Aurora's cheek. She hung her head. "I'm not worth it."

Darya lifted her chin. "Yes, you are."

The pony pranced back to the barn and slid to a stop, snorting. Connie grasped Arina protectively, but the pony didn't come closer. She grazed for a little and shook herself, then seemed to grow calmer and James walked up to her and hugged her neck. He slid his hand down her smooth back. "She's wonderful!" he said.

"You can ride her too," said Aurora.

"Thanks! I'll show you all how to ride."

"Then maybe we can get you a horse," said Roderick. "If you want one."

He nodded. "I want to be able to ride out with the girls."

Avara crept out to join him, and he said, "Don't go behind her, because she can't see you there." She petted her long neck; the pony looked at her and she giggled. Slowly the other girls joined her, and Roderick brought out the brushes and the pony basked in attention for over an hour. Aurora named her Snowdancer, because she looked like she was dancing when she first went out to the pasture.

The pony reminded her of the one at the farm where Nika and Natasha had been adopted. A beautiful place where they could heal—like the triplets could here.

A deep, painful longing pierced her heart. She wasn't sure why this triggered it… did it have to do with memories of riding with Jason? No, that wasn't quite it…

It was something beautiful, not horrible, but perhaps it was just big for her heart to handle, at least not right now… it needed two hearts, and one of them was gone… the one hers was attached to… all the more painful because of the distance, all the more in danger of being severed—the taut invisible cord slashed apart, blood gushing from it—

She found herself alone in the dark, stars twinkling above her… the pony wandering ghostly in a sea of darkness…

Slowly she uprooted herself from the haybale and walked inside, feeling her pregnancy more than before, as if she were carrying a much larger burden….

Dreams tore through her like a storm and she emerged, breathless, happy to be awake even though her stomach punished her.

A normal, familiar, purely physical discomfort. Not the restless upheaval, the wild unknown burning…

As she lay there, suppressing her sickness, longing for Jason collapsed her heart, building to an impossible level. She realized her sheets were soaked with tears. Her face ached from sobbing silently.

I have to do something…. Anything—as long as it doesn't endanger the babies….

The phone rang. She risked a wave of nausea to pick it up and managed to keep her eyes closed so the room didn't heave.

"Hello?" she said, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Hi!" said Trysta. "Are you okay?"

She hadn't looked at the caller ID… waves of regret rolled through her… but she supposed it was best to deal with this.

"I… I just have morning sickness."

"I'm so sorry. I forgot that existed, otherwise I wouldn't be calling so early. If this is a bad time…"

"No—I need a distraction." She was fine as long as she didn't move.

"I want to say… I feel weird about how we left it last time. I'm sorry about how it came off. My privilege was showing, I suppose. I like to think I'm above all that… but I guess we're still blind to some things, even if we're more… enlightened. Of course I'm shocked at what Zar did… it's just that… we've had to deal with how he is for a long time. But I see how it could look to an outsider…. We don't approve of what he does, but we've had to… contain him. It's a fine line between letting him have his independence, and… protecting others.

"He always insists he's turned over a new leaf… we believe him… then he—doesn't. For some reason I still thought it'd be different this time. He's twenty-seven for goodness' sake! But now—he showed he really can't change. We wanted to believe he could, I suppose. Because he's one of us, and if he can't… perhaps there's something wrong with all of us. We've got to reconcile with that… we're not guilty by association. If we're guilty of anything, it's being too naïve."

"Too lenient."

"We spoiled him… we might've arrested his tendencies if we had imprinted in him that he wasn't entitled to anything he wanted. The rest of us… didn't want the things he did. We indulged him… let him do his own thing… by the time we knew what was really going on, it was too late. It's… like an addiction. Maybe if he detoxes for awhile… I don't know if we can keep him cooped up that long. But we'll try. That's what I wanted to tell you. Zar is grounded—for good this time. We're literally not letting him off the grounds. That's not even that bad of a punishment, because our grounds are huge. He'll have to make do with immersing in nature. If anything can heal, that can. He acts like it's the worst thing ever. It is rather like a forced detox… cutting off his access suddenly."

"No one needs… to hurt others."

"It's a marker of how spoiled elite can be… and this we didn't even allow. He did it in the shadows; we had to pick up the pieces… imagine what it's like for those whose indulgences aren't held back! What depredations in silence… what unlimited cruelty… It's beyond comprehension. Perhaps we should excise such people completely… but it'd make us a different kind of monster…. Are they truly beyond redemption? Must we merely contain them, or can they be… transformed? Is it in every cell of their DNA or only a poison that must be leeched?"

"It does seem like some people are beyond redemption. But God is powerful enough to save anyone."

"Normally I'd dismiss such things… but we may need a miracle…."

Connie felt a twinge of sympathy, but Trysta's reaction still bothered her. "What you did—paying people off—just encouraged Zar to keep doing it."

"We thought we were providing justice, while also keeping our reputation intact. But that's how the old nobility do things… using their money as a Band-Aid … I see that now and I'm kicking myself for how blind I was. It's just that… family will do that to you. With all his faults—I love Zar. Cutting him off would be like—cutting off a limb."

"I suppose I understand… But… you also implied it was easier to pay off a servant… like they're… lesser…." There was this impossible divide between her and the elite. She couldn't imagine thinking that some people were 'beneath her station'.

"Not lesser. Just… easier to keep quiet… Nobility don't prey on their own. They're not supposed to. Zar broke a taboo and now… even though it might just be rumors that get out, only tamping him down will begin to do any lasting damage control. While keeping him from any more victims… at least he didn't… hurt him badly."

"It hurt him quite a bit."

"We… called his family. They want nothing to do with us—won't even take any sort of token reparation. I just wish I could help… I do feel guilty by association. I'm not sure how we'll emerge from this… we'll all be ostracized unless… we can do something to show we're not what Zar does. It's not like a lot of them don't do much worse— it's just that attacking fellow elite is out of the question. And was done so… tastelessly. That's almost the worse sin. Blatant. No purpose, just raw passion… something they don't want to be reminded is at the center of their secret decadence. Since we don't quite… play the game, we'll be even more on the outside…."

"Do you need to be insiders?"

"I couldn't be in the inner circle even if I wanted to. Zar, if he had style, would belong more with them than the rest of us. Our close connections will probably stand by us. If we're cut off from the majority, though—it's like being cut off from air, and we might not survive. I'll have to do some damage control for quite a bit… prove Zar really is contained…

"That's why I called. I want to prove we have changed, even if Zar hasn't. That we've realized we can't keep indulging him."

"How do I know you won't give in again?"

"Dad's gained total immunity to his pleading. I've learned my lesson… I'm not that obtuse. This was a wake-up call."

"How many has Zar hurt before?"

"It's… hard to say. He did his own thing; we thought it was the normal wild parties… then one day we found out he had… assaulted a servant. We took care of it, but there were more."

"How many?"

"Seven."

Her heart flipped. She managed to keep the surge of nausea from overwhelming her. "Was it always servants? What about… people he visited?"

"You mean in brothels? They're selling themselves anyway, so—"

"That makes it okay?"

"That's not what I meant. They consent with payment, so there's no reason to force them…"

"You said sometimes nobility visit those who might not be… consenting…"

"It would be hard to check, because there's not exactly a paper trail… There's nothing to be done about it anyway. We've shut down the problem. If you like, you can come over and see for yourself."

"I don't know if…"

"I understand. I just… feel like I should make it up to you somehow. It must've been traumatic for you to witness… then for me to— I'm really, really sorry. If you could stomach it, you could come over for dinner sometime."

"I'm not sure if it would be worth it since I can barely keep anything down."

"Oh. Well if there's anything else I can do…"

"All I need is Jason."

"There… might be a way I can help."

"What ." She wasn't sure if she wanted to associate with any elite anymore other than the king, queen, and their kids— the only ones she knew were definitely upstanding.

"Cindy's gotten closer to Alesya. Not only does Alesya like her, but Cindy's able to act like the inner elite without actually being dragged down by them. Maybe I could get us invited to Alesya's again."

"I'm not sure if I'm up to anything right now."

"Sure. I'll keep you updated about what Cindy finds out. We know Alesya's had slaves in the past— Cindy just needs to find evidence she's still keeping one. If there's a way it could help the investigation for us to go there— I could let you know in case…"

She really wasn't sure if she had the strength for anything… and it could be dangerous. But if it had a likelihood of a strong connection… "I might be up to it… as long as it's not in the morning."

"All right." Her voice brightened. "I'll keep you posted."

"Thank you."

Slowly she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower.

After lunch, she joined James and the triplets out in the pasture. James was giving them turns riding while leading them. She knew he hadn't forgotten about Luna… but at least he was having a good time with his sisters.

It started raining, and the triplets abandoned Snowdancer and ran into the barn where their kittens greeted them. They played in the hay until supper; it was only drizzling by then. The air had changed—a sharpness to it that hinted frost.

Sure enough, the next day there was frost on the ground and heavy, snow-laden clouds in the sky. As soon as it began to snow, the girls ran out into the garden, dancing and whirling in the large snowflakes, catching some on their tongues.

Connie wished she could join them, but didn't think the babies would approve. She sat in the gazebo, playing with Snowball on the picnic table.

Her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey," said Trysta. "Cindy got us an invite to the Morvens this evening. If you still want to come—"

She thought for a moment, weighing possible risks, then said, "Yes."