She remained in the chair beside the hearth, one hand gripping its carved arm while the other pressed low against her abdomen. The last color drained from her face.
A dark stain spread beneath her.
Too fast.
Far too much.
For one disbelieving heartbeat, Rhen’s mind refused to name what his senses had already understood.
Then Leena swayed.
“Rhen…”
He moved.
The heir was still held stiffly against his chest. Rhen crossed to the cradle in a single stride and lowered the child into it with exacting care, one hand supporting the tiny head until it rested safely against the mattress.
The baby stirred beneath the blanket.
Rhen was already turning away.
Leena’s knees folded.
He caught her before she struck the floor, one arm locking around her shoulders as the other supported her weight.
Blood flowed down her legs.
Hot.
Fresh.
Relentless.
“No.”
The word tore out of him.
He lowered her to the rug beside the chair, keeping her upper body braced against him.
“Leena.”
Her lashes fluttered.
“I don’t…”
Her breath caught.
“I don’t feel good.”
The door opened.
Mary entered first, the birth medic directly behind her. Both women stopped at the sight of blood spreading across the rug.
The medic recovered first.
“Get her onto the bed.”
Rhen lifted Leena before the command had finished. He carried her the short distance and lowered her onto the mattress, supporting her head and shoulders while the medic tore back the blood-soaked fabric.
