The lounge of the small countryside inn carried a strange kind of stillness, the kind that followed after a storm but before anyone dared to step outside and assess the damage.
Low firelight flickered against the wooden walls, shadows stretching and shrinking like restless spirits. The air smelled faintly of ale, roasted meat, and damp wood from the evening chill that had settled over the shire.
Adam and Ella stepped into the room together, and every pair of eyes turned toward them immediately.
Ivan leaned back lazily in his chair, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. His gaze flicked between Adam and Ella before he let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Look at the gloomy look on his grace's face," he said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. "That's the face of a man burdened with responsibility beyond comprehension."
He paused, then added with theatrical sorrow, "she is pregnant. I just know it."
