By the time Tybalt had made it to the kitchen, he could scarcely remember staggering back down the stairs. He filled a pitcher of water, holding it there senseless of everything until the water was spilling over the rim and onto his hands and –

He splashed his face, as if that would make him calmer. Feeling a little dizzy, Tyb gripped the edge of the sink and counted to five. No. Nope. He was not going to faint in the kitchen while his wife was upstairs giving birth. Head pounding in fear or trepidation or stress, he stumbled back up the stairs, spilling water on himself and his hand trembling again suddenly near the bedroom door.

He didn’t know exactly what had passed between Elsie and her cousin, but Sebastian was close by her, and Tyb caught the kiss to her forehead, the words I promise. I promise, and then we’re not going to let anything happen to you. A choked feeling in his chest, Tybalt pushed it down, exhaled, and moved back into the room as if he’d heard nothing at all – he just couldn’t think about it anymore. Elsie would be fine. “Here,” Tybalt said, setting down the water and coming in to take up her hand where Sebastian had just been holding it. He tried for a smile at them both. “How are we? Nearly done yet?” Not his best joke, but – he was trying.

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