Breach

Chapter Five

Ceena opens the door so suddenly, I take an involuntary step back. Why does she keep doing that? It's unnerving! Then my attention is arrested by her appearance. Her hair, usually so well groomed, stands out around her head as though she's just woken up. The mussed hair isn't as alarming as the dark circles under her eyes. Or the red eyes, evidence she's been crying again.

"What's wrong?" I blurt, my earlier apprehension drowned by concern.

Ceena doesn't answer. She stares at me as though she's never seen me before. I'm about to reach for her when she blinks a few times and focus returns to her eyes. "Oh, it's you."

Was she expecting someone else? "Are you all right?" I repeat.

Ceena nods, but the fugue is back. Her eyes are clouded, and she gazes at me, unseeing. My concern becomes full-blown panic. Taking her gently by the arm, I lead her back into her home. She allows the prodding, neither complaining nor resisting.

Subconsciously, my eyes take in the room. It's neat and tidy with everything in its place, unlike my home where my belongings are scattered from one end to the other. I notice a chair with an embroidered cushion next to the sturdy table. Leading Ceena to the chair, I ease her into it. Then I bend down and sit on my haunches in front of her. Taking her hand in my own, I change the question. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Ceena's eyes drift before finding my face. It takes a while, but clarity returns. She manages a weak smile. With her free hand, she reaches up and touches my face. "Dear Aiken, always there for those who need him."

I'm distracted by that touch. Her hands bear the callouses of the hours spent working with the reeds and other materials she uses for her baskets and mats. Not soft hands by any stretch. But the tenderness of the touch tugs at me. Her words finally filter through. What is she talking about? I try again. "Ceena, you need to tell me what's going on."

Ceena inhales sharply and looks away. Even though her face is averted, I can see the war she's waging with herself. Her shoulders are stiff, her jaw set in a tight line, and a tiny muscle pulses in her neck, a sure sign of her agitation. The hand that touched my face so tenderly now rubs at the callouses on her fingers.

I wait. Impatience won't encourage her to share the burden. I'm rewarded when she finally sighs and faces me again. "If I tell you what's bothering me, do you promise not to tell anyone?" After a brief hesitation, she adds, "Or do anything stupid?"

It's my turn to hesitate. I don't like the idea of knowing what the problem is but not being able to do anything about it. On the other hand, my curiosity burns. I reason that I can find a way around this promise if I have to. I don't dwell on the deceit. I nod my agreement, eager to get to the bottom of what's troubling Ceena.

"You'd better take a seat," Ceena begins, indicating a nearby chair.

I oblige. She pauses, wringing her hands. I'm wondering if she's changed her mind. Then I notice her eyes. The color of warm honey just harvested from the comb. Rich, brown, and with a soft, golden glow. I'm so mesmerized by her eyes that I almost flinch when she begins speaking.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just jump right in. Racella is pregnant."

"What?" The single word doesn't do justice to my shock.

"You heard right."

"Who's the father?"

"Malthasus."

I allow the information to sink in. When did that happen? I always know when Malthasus is seeing someone. He's constantly bragging about his conquests. But I never heard a single word about Racella. "Are you sure it's Malthasus?"