The Midwife's Wards

Well, it seemed that Phoebe had learned her lesson after all. Good. She needed to toughen up and learn not to trust the wrong people, and Loren was definitely the wrong people. He nodded at her statement. ”Fair enough.” However, as she once again criticized Wessex—showing that the healer wasn’t really listening to the summoner—the Launceleyn’s eyes drifted to the midwife’s white-knuckled grip on her teacup. Although he might have commented that helping others birth children didn’t actually qualify Phoebe to raise children of her own (especially since she was barely an adult herself) he knew that would just set her off again. ”You’re telling me. You need to show the queen.” Indeed, words wouldn’t help here. As the conversation moved on to Roana’s sword, Loren placed his hand on the hilt. ”I’m holding on to it for safekeeping until the situation with Roana is resolved. Failing that, I’ll hold onto it until the boys are of an age to use it.” On the off chance that the ex-captain managed to evade Deimos, the summoner didn’t want the boys and the sword in the same place, not if he could help it. Besides, they were children, and had no use for blades, any more than Phoebe did. Moreover, Wessex had been very clear about the fact that they were supposed to confiscate all magical items, whether or not they were family heirlooms. The Launcelyn was already pushing his luck by allowing the children to take the items their mother had given them. ”In fact, I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boy’s packs, so I can check them for additional weapons or artifacts.” He was asking nicely, but if Phoebe resisted any of that information, Loren knew he’d have to act. LOREN Not quite an open book