“No lovers,” he said. “Not for you. Not ever.” Unexpectedly, she found herself wanting to laugh. “What?” “Women die in childbirth, and in pregnancy, and trying to end pregnancy. Lovers driven mad by jealousy lash out in violent ways. We can’t risk any of that.” Then she actually did laugh. “And where are they,” she said, when she could speak again, “these lovers who’ll be driven mad with jealousy over me? They sound unbalanced. I’d like to think I’d have better taste.”
