Prized by Caragh M. O'brien

would be able to nurse Maya, and guessed she could. “How do I get out to the island?” Gaia asked.
    â€œDon’t go. You aren’t even supposed to know where she is. I just told you because I thought you deserved to know.”
    There was no way she could stay away now that she knew, but that wasn’t Peony’s problem. The candle flickered in the breeze from the window, and Gaia smiled. “Thank you.”
    â€œIt’s the least I can do.” Peony hugged her knees to her chest for a moment. “Can we please get this over with?”
    There was nothing for it, then, but to get on with the miscarriage. Gaia washed her hands and gestured for Peony to lie back. A gentle, competent internal examination showed her Peony’s cervix had changed from the normal bump with the near firmness of beeswax to a more yielding softness. The other signs of color change were there, too, convincing Gaia that Peony was, indeed, pregnant. Carefully, she settled Peony’s skirt down again.
    â€œYou can sit up,” she said quietly, and Peony shifted up on the bed, crossing her legs.
    â€œI’m right, aren’t I?” Peony asked.
    Gaia nodded and poured more water to wash her hands again.
    â€œSo what do I do, just drink this?” Peony said, pointing to the concoction.
    Gaia searched her face, seeing the anxiety and hopefulness there.
    â€œIs there really no chance the father will marry you?” Gaia asked. “You’re sure?”
    â€œXave?” Peony asked. “No chance. I don’t even want him anymore.”

    Gaia couldn’t believe she’d heard correctly. “You can’t mean Mx. Josephine’s Xave.”
    Peony gave a bitter smile. “Small world, isn’t it? Hundreds of men to choose from, and we both get suckered in by the same snake.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” Gaia said. “Why don’t you turn him in?”
    â€œI have a secret to keep, don’t I?” Peony said. “If I tell on him, everyone knows. And I’m an idiot. I should have known what he was like after what he did to Mx. Josephine, but I believed in him. Now do you see?”
    â€œSo you’re absolutely, positively sure?” Gaia asked.
    â€œI am,” Peony said. “I swear, I was ready to do something drastic if you changed your mind. I didn’t dare ask anybody, but there are old stories. I knew it could go wrong, but that wouldn’t be any worse than if I set out to kill myself anyway, would it?”
    â€œThat is absolutely not an option,” Gaia said.
    â€œBut you’re here. I’m going to be okay.”
    In a quiet, steady voice, Gaia explained what Peony could expect. The bleeding would be heavy and persistent, but it shouldn’t be a gushing flow. Peony would have cramps, sweating, diarrhea, and nausea, but not a fever. The embryo would be shed with everything else, so tiny that Peony would not know exactly when it happened.
    â€œYou need to know one more thing,” Gaia said. “There’s a chance, a small chance, you could die. If you start bleeding too much or you get an infection, it will be nearly impossible for me to save you.”
    â€œI trust you,” Peony said.
    â€œIt isn’t trust,” Gaia corrected her. “It’s a true risk. I haven’t done this before. My mother always handled miscarriages. I
think I’m right about the herbs and the amounts, but I could be wrong.”
    â€œYou don’t understand,” Peony said. “I’d take any chance. I can’t have this baby.”
    Gaia threaded her fingers together and searched her own heart one last time.
    â€œYou would never do this, would you?” Peony said.
    Gaia glanced up and felt misery move through her like slow, dark molasses. “No,” she said honestly. “I wouldn’t. To me, keeping my baby alive would be worth anything that happened to me, even if I had to give up my