Gabriel looked at the floor, fingers curling slightly in the bedsheet. "He wanted to kill her himself."
Edward didn't deny it.
Instead, he set his teacup down with the kind of deliberate care that preceded a verbal ambush.
"So you know," he said flatly. "Then why do you keep ignoring your health?"
Gabriel blinked, caught mid-thought.
Edward didn't wait. "Do you want to see bloodshed while you're mid-faint, slumped on a throne you refused to rest in?"
Gabriel's mouth opened—probably to deflect with something witty, sharp, or criminally sarcastic—but Edward raised a finger.
"Because if you collapse in front of him again," Edward continued, voice still maddeningly calm, "I will personally take out a royal petition to sedate you for the remainder of your pregnancy, and no one will stop me."
"I'm fine," Gabriel muttered, eyes still on the sheets. "Everyone keeps treating me like I'm made of glass."
