Page 31

ELINOR, FIVE YEARS LATER

As prophesied, war does come for the Five Realms.

Through it all, I have borne three children, all boys, and my time approaches to deliver a fourth as Alistair rides home. He is the king and should be safe behind stone walls, yet he rides out time and again to lead his soldiers.

Which leaves me waiting, fearful and wondering whether he will live to meet his youngest child. I pace the tower parapet fretfully, watching the horizon for any sign of his return.

A maid in a gray gown comes rushing up the stairs. I cast a weary final glance at the empty road and smooth the green silk velvet over my burgeoning belly. All the luxurious gowns in the world cannot disguise my inelegant waddle of late pregnancy.

“Your Highness, the prince has fallen,” she says breathlessly. Inside my stomach, the baby kicks my kidneys. Four children might be enough.

“Which one?” I ask the harried nursemaid.

“Little Merek,” she answers. “Young Theo pushed him off the low wall in the garden.”

I sigh. Our middle boy is my most sensitive and also the most reckless.

He adores his older brother, the four-year-old Crown Prince Theobard, and follows him everywhere.

The youngest, Lionel, is barely walking.

The three of them together are a handful for any one adult to manage.

Fortunately, I have several women to help mind them.

“Is he injured?”

“A scraped knee. He is inconsolable.”

I waddle down from the tower steps to find Theo patting his crying brother’s shoulder. Merek bursts into fresh tears at the sight of me. It takes some doing to crouch down, but I manage to pick him up despite my belly. My back twinges with the exertion.

“There, little one. Does it sting?”

He nods, rubbing snot on the sleeve of my nice gown. Gently, I clean his face with a lace-edged handkerchief.

“Let’s take a look.” I balance him on my knees, his small back against my bump, while the nurse washes his bloody knee, applies an ointment, and then wraps a cloth around his chubby leg. Mollified, Merek sniffs twice, takes a shuddering breath, and lets out a sharp giggle.

“Baby kick!” he squeals, utterly delighted.

“Yes, darling, I felt it too. He or she will be here soon. Are you looking forward to having a little brother or sister?”

“Sister,” he says solemnly.

I drop a kiss on his head as he wiggles out of my lap and runs off to follow Theo. Lionel bleats and rubs his eyes.

“I’ll take this one up for his nap,” I tell the nursemaids, thinking I, too, can sneak in a short rest. I carry him upstairs, my back aching and my bladder screaming for relief.

My eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the relative gloom of our bedchamber. A startled squeak bursts past my lips when a man’s shape separates from the shadows.

“Don’t drop the baby, now,” says Alistair, scooping Lionel from my grasp. He drops a tired kiss on my lips.

“You scared me. When did you get back?”

“About two minutes ago. Killian left me atop the tower, via dragon.”

These days, there are so many dragons in Belterre that we no longer keep a warning siren. Part of our bargain with the fae is that they will keep their monsters in check if we aid them in war. An uneasy alliance, to be sure, but it has held.

“Is it true? There is peace at last?”

He nods tightly. “Isanthia is defeated. The fae have sealed off a section of it to contain the rot they found there. Briar is to rule over the remainder. What little of it is left to rule.”

“I’m sure that suits her just as well. Killian, too.

” I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

The fae shall have a homeland once again, where their beasts can thrive without harming our farmers and merchants.

My husband is alive. Caldrithonia has a young new queen who proved her mettle in battle.

Aisendelle is liberated. Montrace’s king is seeking to make new alliances after mostly sitting things out.

Yet so many lives have been lost. This war will take years to recover from. All thanks to Isanthia’s shortsightedness.

Othmar, Alistair’s onetime knight, insisted upon serving and lost his leg in an attack. He has his doting wife to care for him. At least the plumbing project my father began was finally completed—a gift from Alistair as part of their wedding. He and Stacia have two little girls.

Lord Layton lived for a year after his release. In his darker moods, Alistair jokes that he died simply to escape his wife. Drucilla remains widowed and alone, reportedly obsessed with magic potions to maintain her vanity. No outward beauty, however, can mask the ugliness of her soul.

Alistair lays our youngest son on the bed. I clamber in awkwardly beside our toddler.

“Go wash up and come join us,” I tell him. “You smell like ash and death.”

He chuckles and goes off to obey. I drift into a light sleep, only to be awakened by a spasm of pain. I roll out of bed and stagger to my feet. A contraction seizes me. Water floods my thighs.

“Alistair!” I shout. “The baby is coming!”

* * *

Hours later, I lay in my own bed, exhausted but happy with my newborn daughter swaddled in my arms.

“Yes, you’re a sweet little princess, aren’t you?” I coo at my baby. Seconds later, tiny feet pad loudly into the room. “Here come your brothers, Cassia. Would you like to meet them?”

Alistair herds the boys onto the bed, helping the toddler crawl over to me. He plops his bottom at my side and stares at the strange new creature who’s become part of our family.

“Can I hold her?” asks Merek, transfixed.

He loved having a baby brother, and clearly, having a sister is just as captivating an experience in his short life.

This being the arrival of his third sibling, Theo is rather unimpressed at yet another division of his parents’ attention.

He puts his arms out to Alistair, who picks him up immediately.

A good father, indeed. I cast him a quick smile and carefully place the bundle of Cassia’s sleeping form into Merek’s lap. He cradles her with a tenderness that makes my heart burst.

“Do you still think four is enough?” Alistair asks quietly, winking at me. Heat rises to my cheeks.

“Maybe one more,” I concede. “But not right away.”

“Agreed. We should take a break.” He bends to kiss me, soft and lingering.

“For your health. Now that we have peace ahead of us, I intend to enjoy it fully.” His eyes darken.

The heat in my cheeks sinks lower. Not as far as my much-abused organs—there will be time enough for that later—but into my already-full heart.

Spend a magical winter evening with Alistair and Elinor and get NSFW character art here .

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