"Well, the big trouble is not losing them; it's conceiving at all," she said. "Then carrying. Generally if a woman makes it past the third month, everything is all right. My lady Dierdre's almost made it that far. But I'm still worried."

"She's having twins, right?" Goneril asked. "What's...how worried are you?"

She shrugged. "I'm more worried for her than the bairns. She's already lost one child. She took it very hard. I don't want her to be disappointed again."

Goneril nodded. "If having two meant there was a better chance she'd get one, it would be different, but it makes both babies smaller..." She swallowed. "Do you think, if she loses the babies, would she want to take Hero?"

Niabheara felt such a swell of fury that for a moment, it was all she could do not to slap Goneril in the mouth. She clenched her fists until they trembled. The blind rage subsided. "I don't know. She might. But I do not think this would be the best time ask her. For just now, we can make temporary arrangements."

"Well, I hope it doesn't come up," Goneril replied softly. And she nodded. "Are you going to be all right with the baby? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I like babies," she said softly. "I've just ne'er had one all to myself before. I'm afraid I'll find out too late that I'm terrible at this. I'm sure there'll be plenty of people willing to help, but . . . "

"I don't know how it works when it's not your own," Goneril replied. "But I think everyone is terrible at it, until you have one dropped in your lap, and then you learn. And Lysander's good with babies. Just watch him."

She gave a tiny smile. "Aye, I know. I think he was hoping that the bairn I dropped in his lap would be my own."

Goneril raised her eyebrows. "Well, he sort of dropped this one in your lap, didn't he?" she asked.