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kitchen.
    “Crap!” She moved toward the smoking oven, furiously twisting dials. “Crap!”
    He slid the door shut behind him, closing out Eveningstar’s February chill. “Dad said you called the cabin. What’s up?”
    She finally noticed him, but instead of smiling she rolled her eyes. “It figures. Great timing. I was trying to—”
    The smell of burning sugar wrinkled his scaled snout. “Why are you in the kitchen ?”
    “Hilarious. I was trying to . . . I was trying to . . .” She stomped her foot. “Dammit, never mind what’s in the oven; look on the counter!” She pointed at the kitchen counter with one hand and hid her face with the other.
    He circled around the couch and approached the kitchen. There was only one item on the meticulously kept counter. It was white and about the size of a finger, and . . .
    “Oh.”
    She still wasn’t looking at him. “I thought I’d bake fudge to celebrate.”
    “You know I’m allergic to chocolate.”
    “Well, you’re not the one who’s pregnant.” She reached up and flipped the fan on, drowning out the rest of her muttering.
    He stared at the small, white pregnancy test. “This was quick.” His wing claw fluttered back and forth between the two of them. “I mean, we’ve only been married—”
    “Long enough. I warned you this could happen.”
    He felt a thrill of irritation down his tailbones. “To be fair, I’ve known all about sex and babies since the third grade.”
    “Don’t sass me, Scales. Your constant climbing on top of me was bound to screw things up eventually. If you could have found something else to do—say, work, or eat, or breathe—for even a small portion of that time, we might not be facing this.”
    Her fear softened him. “Honey, it’s okay. I know we’ve got lots of bills. All we—”
    “I don’t mean money! I mean, we wouldn’t be facing what we’re going to face when . . . when . . .” She gestured at her abdomen, and Jonathan was surprised at how easy it was to imagine a new life within. “When she arrives.”
    “She? How do you know—”
    “I know my body. We all do. It’s part of the discipline.”
    “Would that be the same discipline you’re showing in blaming me for your pregnancy?”
    “That’s it. No fudge for you.”
    “Again, I’d like to remind you . . .” He trailed off, because she was crying. “Honey, I’m having trouble tracking you here.”
    “She’s going to be a target!” Elizabeth’s emerald eyes were wide with dread. “As soon as people learn she’s the child of a dragon and a beaststalker, both sides will come for her!”
    “They won’t want to hurt her,” Jonathan tried to convince them both at once.
    “Even if they don’t, they’re still going to target her—use her as a symbol, demand she champion their side, destroy the part of her that isn’t them.”
    Unable to argue the point, he tried to think of a way to calm his wife down. “Nobody’s going to find out about us. Some people know I’m a dragon, and some people know you’re a beaststalker, but nobody knows both parts of the truth. Without that—”
    “Your father, and Glorianna Seabright.”
    He sighed. “You’re impossible when you’re like this.”
    “You mean when I rip apart your crappy arguments with two examples of reality? Jonathan, what are we going to do?”
    He assessed the smoking ruin in the kitchen and came up with a plan. “We’re going to go out to dinner to celebrate. Where do you want to go?”
    “We can’t go anywhere, not with you like that.” But she snuggled into his wings. “When the crescent moon’s over, let’s go to the Seafood Shepherd.”
    He immediately regretted his offer. “The Seafood Shepherd? Aw, honey—”
    “The baby wants it. I can tell.”
    “Oh, give me a—”
    “Tomorrow is Super Seafood Special Sunday.”
    “ Every Sunday is . . . look. You realize that’s not an actual, observed holiday, right?”
    “Shut up and change back, already. I want my