"I'm well," August affirmed. He gestured with one hand for her to sit down on the couch with him; the longer they were both standing, the more he felt as if she was going to flee any moment. "How are you? How's the baby?" She had to be - five or so months along now, by August's reckoning, since it was his baby. Lyra had been fairly miserable for much of her pregnancy but that had been exacerbated by several nightmarish circumstances - so, he really had no idea how Freya ought to be doing now.

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