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Sonje by Sie!
And just as she suspected, her words weren't enough to quell the steadily rising beast in front of her. Sonje had never had cause to be afraid of Temeraire before, so it was doubly shocking when he shouted at her, grabbed her even, and held her so firmly that she nearly buckled to his will. But the wolfdog had always been a defiant brat, and though her eyes shone with confusion and uncertainty, they hardened as he glared at her, realizing that she suddenly might have to defend herself against the only man she'd ever loved.
His anger brought an unbidden fear into her heart, something she'd never experienced before. Sonje wasn't a fearful creature by any means, but his tight grip threatened to completely cut off circulation in her arms, and a fight was brewing so readily and so quickly that she was momentarily frightened at the prospect of the outcome. Of losing him. He wouldn't hurt her, she thought—but even as this assurance crossed her mind, he hissed at her, something terrible. Initially she gave a small gasp at the accusation, which did little except to affirm her guilt. I have no secrets!
she shouted suddenly, and just as she made to wrench herself out of his grasp, Teme pushed her.
Both simultaneous actions had Sonje careening carelessly into their small dinner table, where she'd set many meals for her husband and even shared a passionate, spur-of-the-moment tryst or two atop of. She snarled as she rocked the table, moving it several feet back and making a chair lose its balance. She gripped the edge of the table hard, steadying herself, but breathing hard. It'd happened too fast for her to comprehend, and she was vaguely aware that she'd taken the brunt of the table into her stomach. She whipped her head around, looking at him with both such fury and sorrow that it was difficult to tell which one was more prevalent.
You bastard,
she spat; You fucking idiot!
She pushed herself off the table, rocking on her feet for a moment before she made a swift start for the stairs. She was too flustered, couldn't even think of what he'd just accused her of and how true it was. She grabbed the banister. She just wanted to get upstairs, to the only mirror in the house. She just needed to check...
She thought to say something else to him, perhaps denying it would help, but her mind was in a fray and she was loping up the steps without another word—just trying to escape. Ironically, it looked like she was heading upstairs for the book, which, if anything, was the last thing on her mind at the moment.