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Summary
“Wednesday,” she warned after what felt like the millionth scroll. She didn’t need to say another word for the psychic to understand. Her hands instinctively found their place again, thumbs digging under her shoulder blades in small circular motions.
“Number.”
“Six.”
She clucked her tongue, amused, “A six? That’s barely anything. You have *plenty* of more room left. Don’t you, *mea catula?*”
Enid fidgeted against the mattress, whimpering, and trying to take deep breaths to distract herself. She placed her hand on her belly and immediately removed it, stiffening.