“Jaana said it’s a girl,” he said. “All well?”
JingYi nodded. She was so tired that her bones might melt into a puddle. But the image of the baby sleeping in her mother’s arms drew a smile from her lips. “A beautiful girl. Her name is Aniva.”
He gave a faint smile, and for a moment, the sharpness in his expression softened. “Did you choose the name?”
JingYi lowered her head. “The family gave me too much honour.”
“They were wise to do so.”
She didn’t know how to answer that, or how to tell him no one had ever called her wise or honourable before. The words felt like a language she was only beginning to learn.
When they mounted up a while later, the ride home was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Ahead, Parandor’s towers emerged from the mist. A few windows glowed with light, softening the keep’s jagged silhouette. In the hush of pre-dawn, the castle looked less a fortress and more a home waiting for their return.
A few people waited in the courtyard: Yrenna, Conrad, Tedric, and Darion—all alert despite the hour. Duskwane halted before them, and Alexander swung down first, then reached up to help her dismount.
“I suppose you’ve heard,” he said to the group. His voice, though fatigued, was buoyant.
The lightness in it caught her off guard. She’d grown so used to his solemnity that this glimpse of something unguarded felt like standing in a sudden patch of sunlight. It was a tonic for her exhaustion.
“I told them,” Darion replied. “But tell us properly now. How’s the babe?”
Yrenna’s worry flickered behind her eyes. “We’ve been waiting all night for word.”
“She’s healthy,” JingYi told them. “A healthy baby girl.”
A ripple of relief passed through the group—murmurs, soft laughter, a breath that had been stifled.
Alexander stepped to her side. “It was a difficult birth,” he said, “but the princess held the line. She saved them both.”
Conrad let out a low exhale. “By Luneth’s grace,” he said, “that’s two lives you brought through tonight, Highness.”
“Three, if you count poor Ulrik,” Darion added with a rare grin. “He’ll be telling the tale for years, Princess. Mark my words.”
Tedric hid a smirk behind his knuckles. “Word is, Lord Fortier and his physician left Lornhelm not long after you wentinside. They looked rather put out, from what the cobbler boy said.”
Conrad snorted. “Couldn’t very well stay and be proven useless, could he?”
Yrenna clasped JingYi’s hand, her grip warm and firm. “You’ve done something magnificent, Sister. Now go inside. Aliz has set supper for you both in your room. Eat and rest. Tomorrow is the Harvest Ritual, and we’ll all need our strength.”
JingYi’s heart gave a small stutter. In the midst of chaos tonight, she’d forgotten all about the ritual. She was too tired to dread it tonight. First, she would eat and sleep. Then, she’d decide what tomorrow would ask of her.
The warmth of her chambers welcomed them—a haven after the storm. A hearty supper, still steaming, had been laid between the armchairs: clay bowls of wild mushroom and barley stew, a platter of lamb slices, and glistening roasted squash. A wedge of soft cheese was melting near the fire, and a pot of spiced plum sauce waited to be spooned over everything.
Her stomach, so long silent, gave a sudden growl.
Behind her, Alexander gave a soft huff of amusement. “I suppose Yrenna guessed right.”
She glanced back at him with flushed cheeks. “She usually does.”
He crossed the room ahead of her, shrugged off his cloak, and draped it over the chair closest to the fire. Then, he guided her toward the second one.
“Sit. You’ve laboured enough for one night.”
Too tired to protest, she lowered herself onto the cushion with a grateful exhale. They ate in silence. The stew was thick and earthy, warming the deep, tired ache in her limbs. She spread plum sauce over a slice of squash and nearly sighed at the sweet, sticky richness of it.
Alexander finished eating first. He rose to pour two cups of wine and handed one to her. But instead of returning to his seat, he lingered by the window.
“The Harvest Ritual is tomorrow,” he began. “The climb starts just before dusk.”
