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... o whisper that she was going to be sick before the maids descended upon her like an emotional tidal wave wrapped in lace and squeals.
"You’re pregnant!" Tilda cried, grabbing her hands and bouncing slightly. "You’re really pregnant! With a baby!"
"I—yes—I guess I am—" Elysia stammered.
"Oh my stars!" Arna exclaimed, fanning herself with a silk napkin. "A royal heir! A little one with your eyes and Malvoria’s glare!"
"I’m going to throw up," Elysia whispered again, ...
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