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Laisa and Gregor didn’t speak of the pregnancy again for another week, though Laisa did consult the Residence doctor. Dr. Castellan had howled and immediately contacted the Emperor to beg permission for a replicator transfer, which had been denied. When the doctor arrived in person to reiterate her concern, Gregor had given her a sigh and a look of resignation. “The Empress has my full trust on these matters. You are authorized to give the patient whatever treatment she requests, and no more." At the doctor's pleading expression, he softened somewhat and added, "We thank you for your concern.” Then he dismissed her and stopped taking messages from the medical department.
The end result was that Laisa now found herself with an Emperor underfoot more often than not. He would pop into her office suite at the Residence, suddenly break out of a economic briefing to appear for tea, and hounded the Imperial Chef about the quality of ingredients in her dinner. It would be charming, even romantic, had he not done so with the blank and tense expression she’d come to associate with Imperial crises.
When she said, “Don’t you think we should begin telling people?” he hesitated.
“Well,” he said, “I might have said something to Miles.”
Naturally, that would be the first person he’d brief. “What did he say?”
“He said that we should talk about it with Ekaterin. So I did.”
Laisa’s eyebrows climbed. “I’m sorry I missed the conversation. What did she say?” Where had Gregor found the time to meet with Ekaterin privately in the last week? For that matter, where had Ekaterin found the time?
“She wasn’t alarmed, said it might be a good way to help you slow down a little. She seemed to think that it might be a good move politically as well; humanizing, and all that.” Gregor’s brow furrowed. “Which shouldn’t matter,” he added fiercely. He’d always resisted the weight of public opinion in a decision like this, fiercely protective of his children’s privacy whenever he could be. Poor, strange creature, Laisa thought.
“She also said we should talk to Lady Alys.”
“Alys pulled me aside a week and a half ago and asked me about my health. She could tell by looking at me, apparently.”
Gregor laughed mirthlessly. “Well, I guess we’ve told people. But you didn’t tell her about,” he waved at her midsection vaguely, “keeping it? There?”
“Well, she bore Ivan as a body birth. As you may have heard her mention, occasionally.”
Gregor did fix Laisa with a real smile, at that remark. “And she has never, in the last thirty years, passed up an opportunity to talk about the technical miracle which is the uterine replicator,” he added. “So did she give you… advice?”
“She gave me a stern talking to, yes.” The irritation was now plain in Laisa's voice. She treasured Alys's advice, always had. But Alys was sometimes protective to the point of smothering. Gregor was still the only person should trust with her irritation.
Laisa saw Gregor’s shoulders relax. “I think you should talk to Cordelia,” he said.
“No, I think you should talk to Cordelia,” Laisa shot back in her sternest voice. One thing they had made clear, early on, was that Laisa had not married The Emperor. She had married Gregor, and like any husband, Gregor sometimes needed that tone.
“I’ll bring her back to Barrayar,” Gregor sighed.
Laisa wasn't entirely looking forward to discussing the issue with Cordelia, but she suspected that Gregor was looking forward to it even less.