“Get your hands off her,” Soren snaps, his own hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, but as he begins to draw it, I find my temper once more, my magic lashing out to wrap around his wrist and stop his hand, then wrapping around both princes’ legs to stop their advance into the room. If either of them attempts to grab me right now, it could harm the baby or his mother, and neither of those possibilities are acceptable to me.
“This is a birthing room. Youwill notdraw a weapon in the presence of a mother and a baby, not while I breathe.”
Airlie’s eyes finally move away from her son, snapping up to meet my gaze. She doesn't look scared or worried at the command in my tone, or the way my silver eyes are now glowing with magic. Her resolve is steady as I resume gently directing her son to eat, moving him and adjusting him until the latch is good and he begins to suck greedily.
He's small, definitely early, and she winces for a moment before we get him in the right position and settled comfortably. I ignore the commotion by the door, magic settling around both princes to ensure they cannot step even a single foot closer to the bed, and it's not until the baby is secure and suckling that Airlie glances up at her cousins.
“He’s alive,” she says again, her words barely more than a breath.
The wonder in her tone forms a lump in my throat. This isn’t her first baby, but it is the first one she’s been able to hold close to her heart with nothing but joy.
“Cousin, what has happened here?” Tauron demands, and Airlie grins back at him.
“My son was born alive.”
I sit on the bed and watch them both, my mind already moving through the necessary actions that come after a baby. Airlie needs to eat. There are herbs we need to find to help her milk supply come in strong. Clothing and blankets, and we need to warm up the bedroom, because the baby is so small and will struggle to stay warm.
I glance around, but there's no cradle for the baby, no sign in this bedroom that they were preparing for a new life, and the lump in my throat only grows bigger. They were so sure that this was a futile attempt, and yet they still tried, this little prince so wanted and so loved.
I look at Firna, meeting her still-awed gaze. “The princess needs food and water. I know you all drink a lot of goblin wine, but is there any ale? We need the darkest brew you can find.”
Firna’s brow furrows a little more, but she nods. “We do have some, but it’s been stored away for the Unseelie Court when they visit.”
I glance at the princes, whose eyes are fixed on me, before I glance back. “She doesn't need a lot. Just a glass a day to help the milk come in until I can brew her some tinctures and teas. I’m assuming there aren't any wet-nurses available for the prince and our options for feeding him are very limited. Her milk is the most important thing for his survival.”
She nods at me firmly, then steps around the bed before her gaze lands back on the two princes. She bows deeply before addressing them, no nonsense in her tone or words.
“Princess Airlie asked the witch to stay after she offered her help. She saw the baby here safely, and she broke the curse. I’ll do as she says, for the sake of the prince’s health.”
It’s not a question, but she doesn't move from the spot until Soren finally gives her the tiniest of nods, a jerking of his head that I'm sure cost him dearly.
His pride must be in ruins.
The keeper walks out of the room without another word, feet moving quickly in her haste to do as I say, and I turn back to the princess.
The tears have dried up and her eyes are sharp once more. “What else can I do for my milk? After everything we've gone through, I'm not going to risk him now.”
I nod and reach out again, my hand clasping her shoulder. The empathy I feel for her is a shock, my mind reeling at the emotions bubbling up inside of me once more as the last of the ice around my heart melts away. I thought I’d lost my ability to feel such things. My time in the Northern Lands may have hollowed me out, but maybe my connection to the land here has filled me back up again. Maybe all I truly needed was to return to my ancestral home and become a simple witch of the woods once again. That’s all I truly am, no matter what new responsibilities and titles I may hold.
“There are herbs that we can get for you, but eating and drinking regularly is the most vital part to a good supply. You need to eat well—no more picking at small bowls of fruit. It may have sustained you in your pregnancy while you felt sick, but it won’t be enough now. You must eat for the both of you. Breads and cheeses, produce and meat—you need a good variety, and you need to eat often.”
Her brow furrows again but she nods, glancing at the young maid who still cowers in the corner, and her mouth firms into a line but she addresses the girl kindly enough. “Veera, I need you to get me a glass of water and then go down to the kitchens and help Firna.”
The young maid nods at her, her shaking hands fumbling a little as she moves around the room to do as the princess instructed. A glass is placed on the small table by the bed before she scurries out of the room, stumbling over her feet as she bows to the princes. Only once the door is shut behind her does Airlie look back at her cousins once more
“You're using your magic on them now, aren't you,” she says to me, her lips tight in disapproval.
I nod. “I don't care who they are or the circumstances.No onedraws a weapon in a birthing room, not while I live and breathe.”
Her gaze traces my face, her stare serious, as a single finger gently caresses her son's temple and strokes the tiny cap of dark curls at his crown. One tiny, pointed ear is visible over her arm, and my heart clenches at the sight of it.
The curse was denied him, but how many other infants just like him were taken?
Airlie murmurs, “And if I get them to promise they're not going to draw their swords, you’ll remove your magic bindings from them?”
I raise a brow at her. “I don't care what they do to me, princess, what words they have to say or what punishment they deem necessary for my actions today, butnone of itwill happen in this room. I’ll take the magic off them, but they’ll have to restrain themselves until I’ve seen you and the small prince through these first few hours. Your safety and health are my priority.”
She nods curtly and when she looks at the men, still trembling with rage and contained only by the power that’s wrapping around them, her steely gaze doesn’t soften. She may love them both and respect them, she might be loyal to the Savage Prince and his claim to the crown, but in a few short minutes, she’s transformed from Princess Airlie into a mother. It’s a fearsome sight to behold.
