The chamber housed a pallet for Kirgipa, a more luxurious bed for the baby, a chair, and a basket of supplies for feeding and changing an infant.
Kirgipa tapped her gently on the back in steady rhythm as she paced back and forth across the room under the watchful eye of a royal guard. Her small fingers twitched against Kirgipa's sleeve, thin black nails scoring marks in the fabric. The baby in her arms nuzzled her shoulder, grunting like a badger. When Kirgipa accepted the coveted position of second nursemaid to the youngest of the Kai heir apparent’s brood, she never imagined the role entailed consecutive days of sleep deprivation and exile to the farthest corner of the palace.
To my intrepid beta reader Jeffe Kennedy: the wine is on me, lovely. To my editors Lora Gasway and Mel Sanders: once again you saved me from myself.
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