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Evelina

The pregnancy was far more difficult than it had been with Leda. Evelina felt more of everything —nausea, exhaustion, pain. There was a newfound weakness growing in her every day. She was breathless from simple activities; even walking from her chambers to the throne room had become taxing.

And of course, people’s judgment didn’t help either. As opposed to her pregnancy with Leda, no one seemed eager to hear the baby kick or coo praises at her belly. They looked at it with fear.

Explaining to Leda was harder than anyone else, the flash of betrayal in her eyes piercing Evelina so deeply that she would remember it forever. But Leda was loyal and stood by Evelina’s side every day, even if she seemed unwilling. It eased the pain of doing this without Daimon, but it didn’t erase it. Nothing could erase that heartache.

Evelina didn’t know how she would have their child without him. They could never meet, not if they wanted to keep the baby safe. He would never know if it was a girl or boy, never see them grow into an adult or discover what magic they might possess.

She began to realize how much those Harvest Moons had meant to her, even those many fruitless years only catching glimpses of him through that shadowy haze. Then, she at least still had a piece of him left, a chance of seeing him again.

Now she had none.

The evening was a beautiful, temperate June night, moonlight streaming in through the window of Evelina’s room.

“Mother, you should lie down,” Leda pleaded. “Gloriana told you to take it easy.”

Evelina shifted on her feet, pacing in front of the window. “This is taking it easy,” she mumbled. In truth, she was restless, her fear of not being able to hide the babe’s shadows haunting her the closer to full-term she got. The baby could come any day now.

Leda sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “At least sit down. You’re stressing me out.”

Evelina propped a hand on her back and waved off Leda with the other.

Water rushed from between her legs, followed by a clenching deep in her swollen belly. She bent forward, breathing deeply in and out.

“Leda,” she rasped.

Leda spun around, eyes wide when she saw the liquid on the floor. “The baby is coming,” she gasped.

Evelina nodded and stood back up, rubbing a hand over her stomach. Leda rushed over to her, trying to lead her to the bed. Evelina shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed as the first wave came.

“Get Gloriana and Annora,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not leaving you.”

Evelina paced the room, one hand on her back and the other still over her stomach. “Unless you want to deliver your sibling, you have to go get them.”

Leda hesitated. Evelina screamed, the next wave stronger than the last. That was all it took for Leda to bolt from the room. Evelina braced her hands on the back of a wooden chair, breathing as deeply as she could.

“Your father and I love you so very much,” she whispered. “One day, I’ll find a way to tell you the truth. I promise.”

The room was still, with only her ragged breaths filling the quiet. Soon, Leda returned with Annora and Gloriana. They rushed Evelina to the Celestial Temple, the waves of pain growing closer together.

By the time they reached the grounds of the temple, the Sacred was already waiting.

The baby was coming. Now.

Evelina exchanged a panicked look with Annora. This was it. She had to pray the darkness of night and her affinity for light would be enough to cover the severed shadows that presented in the child.

She had to trust in Annora, and in herself. Because right now, her child needed her to push.

Within the hour, she gave birth to a perfect little girl.

The pain of the birth subsided the moment she heard the baby take her first cry. Tears streamed down Evelina’s face as she held her daughter in her arms. Her little cheeks were red, her eyes closed. Evelina dropped a kiss to her forehead, her heart swelling with pride at this perfect child.

The council gathered, eager to see the child and watch over the blessing of her Essence.

Evelina held her breath as the Sacred stepped forward. This was it.

“You have chosen to have your child on the sacred grounds of Eurydice’s temple and your child will be blessed for it.” As was tradition when the queen birthed a new heir, the Sacred laid a white rose in front of Evelina.

Light gathered at the baby’s chest, and Evelina threw all of her focus into making it brighter, bright enough that no shadows could be seen. The Sacred turned her head to Evelina and tilted it to the side. Evelina’s breath caught as her bright eyes seared into her.

The light lifted into the air and traveled over to Evelina, just as it had with Leda.

She held her breath and waited for the Sacred to say something, to say she could sense Evelina using her magic to make the light brighter. But the Sacred remained silent.

Eurydice, forgive me , she prayed.

What if it didn’t work? She already knew she could never allow this child to be taken from her arms, and damn anyone that would try. She knew her council was loyal to her, but how far did that loyalty run? Even now, they believed they were responsible for the father’s absence today.

Her exhausted muscles tensed, prepared to take the baby and run if needed.

The light flared brighter. She swore her heart stopped beating as she waited.

There were no shadows, no signs that pointed to Daimon being the father. No severed line to curse the child—no line from the father at all.

They had managed to cover the shadow before it showed, leaving it to look as if there was only magic returning to Evelina and none to a father. Just as it should if the father was a human, as the council believed.

She did it. Annora smiled and sat heavily on the ground.

“Glad to see she at least has some chance at having Essence,” said Iris in a tone both pitying and curious. “Perhaps your light will be enough.”

Seretha stared at the child, her brows furrowed. “Her name?” she asked.

Evelina thought about Daimon, about what they would decide if they could have this conversation together. Memories of their childhood came to mind first—of the safety she felt hiding between the shimmering pods of the lunaria garden, dreaming together. When he met her there morning after morning after her father died. When they played pretend and he took her mind off the bad days.

“Lunaria,” she said with pride, looking down at the child they had created together. “Lunaria Manor.”

She smiled at her beautiful little girl, her magic still flaring around her. She was safe in her arms.

But through the light, a small shadow flickered before it disappeared entirely.