Chapter 17: Pregnant, Not Powerless
[Rynthall Estate]
Two hands met in a firm, overly enthusiastic handshake that sent a ripple of tension through the room—as if the universe itself had paused to ask, Wait, are they trying to summon a medical prophecy or just shake hands?
The room, mind you, was already full of more than enough drama: one irritated, visibly unimpressed, barely-pregnant baron (Lucien), his exasperated soon-to-be husband (Silas), and now—two physicians whose energy levels could be classified as "threateningly cheerful."
"Nice to meet you!" chirped Faylen, practically vibrating with uncontained glee. "I am Baron Lucien D’Armoire’s family physician, Dr. Faylen Hawke!"
Faylen sparkled. No, really—his eyes sparkled like he had just spotted a unicorn trying to do taxes in his pantry.
Fredrick matched his energy like a kindergartner who had just discovered fruit punch was free and bottomless.
"The pleasure is all mine!" Fredrick beamed. "I am Grand Duke Silas’s family physician, Dr. Fredrick Argrave. It’s an absolute honor to work together on such an exceedingly rare, medically confounding, impossibly beautiful phenomenon!"
He said it with the kind of breathless reverence one usually reserves for the discovery of a lost dragon egg or a flawless antique teacup.
"I’m the one actually pregnant here," Lucien deadpanned, resting a protective hand over his almost-invisible bump. "But sure, let’s all gather around and admire the medical miracle like I’m not the one throwing up every two hours."
Silas tilted his head dramatically toward Frederick. "Their names sound weirdly similar. Faylen. Frederick. I don’t like it. It’s confusing. Like someone gave up halfway through the character list and hit copy-paste."
"It’s been bothering me too!" Lucien mumbled.