The weakness he saw in her disgusted him. She was a leader for a purpose, and to lead meant that weakness could not be seen. He did not trust the others here, not as he trusted Sirius. What if one of them saw Eris in a moment like this? Everything would be lost. A part of him, dim but endlessly devoted, would not allow the woman who had bore his children to be humiliated. Not while there was still much to be gained for them, and even this sickly, star-cursed brood.
Her approach was sudden and he stiffened, but did not draw away. She had hit him before. So had others. If she struck him now, it would be a paper dragon against a pillar of stone. His mind was steel, set and determined. The power to command her was quite beyond him, as was the power to take the child. This was not his sin; this would not be his redemption. “It is dying,” he said lowly, in a strangely reassuring tone. “Tak festers within it. If you do not give it to him now, he will infect the others.” This he believed, even though there was no medical reason to fear it. Larkspur knew nothing of healing, only the terrible threat of all black-magic.
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