Rowena sat in the tavern, tucking into a plate of food. The smell of mead was driving her crazy, it had been weeks since she’d had a drink, but being nearly three months pregnant meant absolutely no alcohol whatsoever. She ran a hand over her already large bump, shovelling another mouthful of venison into her mouth.
She put more honey onto the meat and ate with a sigh. The baby was giving her strange cravings, and she was trying to avoid Vilkas seeing her eat the bizarre concoctions her stomach wanted so bad.