Chapter 190

He could hardly believe she had truly returned to his arms unharmed. Even as he held her with all his strength, terrified that she might dissolve into the air and vanish like a lingering afterimage, her presence felt faint, insubstantial.

He had no way of knowing whose blood covered her, or where she had crawled out from; Elise’s hands were drenched in someone else’s red. A strange coldness clung to the hem of her clothes—something like the chill of the dead.

Rezette steadied his swimming consciousness and listened carefully to the sound of her breathing. Her laughter—frantic and brittle when she first stumbled into him—was slowly fading.

She let out a small, low moan.

“…It hurts.”

The thread-thin whisper brushed against his ear.

“Where…?” Rezette asked, though he could not even be sure he was producing a coherent sound. He only knew his voice was a wreck.

“Where does it hurt, Elise? Which part—?”

Elise’s brow tightened faintly.

“My stomach… I think it hurts…”

The euphoria that had shaken her entire body had lasted only a moment. Now that she had returned to Rezette, she had thought the throbbing in her lower belly would stop—but instead, the pain was growing steadily worse.

***

They had teleported into a border town in Regal, north of Riosa. Cleverly, the messenger falcon had led them straight to the home of a midwife living on the edge of town.

The midwife, a warm-faced woman, examined Elise’s sweat-soaked form up and down.

“Oh dear… looks like there’s some preterm labor starting.”

“Then—when…?” Rezette began, but couldn’t finish.

“You mean, when the baby might come?” the midwife said. “Well, who knows that? Doesn’t look like full labor yet. Let’s see… Miss, can you answer? What exactly hurts?”

She wiped Elise’s forehead with a warm, damp cloth. Elise’s complexion was chalk-white, her face pinched as she struggled to withstand the pain. Now that the immediate danger had passed, everything she had overexerted—everything she had pushed through—seemed to crash down all at once.

When Elise haltingly described her symptoms, the midwife rubbed her chin in troubled thought.

“You say you learned you were pregnant last fall? Then it’s far too early.”

Rezette clenched his teeth.

“Say it clearly. Don’t evade.”

The midwife hiccuped when his cold, razor-edged gaze struck hers.

“You said it’s only been about seven months, yes? Then the babe isn’t fully developed… and more importantly, the child needs to turn before you give birth. At seven months, the baby hasn’t turned head-down yet. You can’t force a child out unprepared.”

“It has to… turn?” Rezette echoed.

“Well of course. Babies come out head-first. It’s rare for one to come feet-first. So you must wait. Right now, birth is impossible.”

She continued inspecting Elise’s body, touching here and there with practiced hands. As she removed Elise’s filthy cloak and changed her into clean nightclothes, Rezette could focus on nothing but soothing her as she whimpered in pain. From behind, he held her tightly, pressing his cheek against her cooling face.

“Elise… please. Just a little. Don’t let go…”

The midwife clicked her tongue as she checked between Elise’s legs.

“Oh my. No avoiding a hard labor at this rate…”

“Why?” Rezette demanded.

“Why? Because the mother is far too small. Narrow hips, frail body. Skin and bones, truly. What’s she been eating? Broth and air?”

Rezette remained silent, jaw locked.

“And you’re the husband?” she continued. “What, have you come straight from a war? Heard talk that fighting broke out down south… but you wouldn’t have made it here if you were down there. A mercenary, maybe?”

Her eyes widened as she noticed the cuts and bruises scattered across Elise’s arms and legs.

“Good heavens, what were you doing while your wife ended up in this state? Just last month, the girl in that gray-roof house up the road looked just like this—so weak she could barely stand. She died in childbirth. Baby survived only by miracle!”

Rezette felt the blood drain from his body. He pulled Elise closer still, as though enclosing her in his arms could somehow ward off the death that crept closer with each passing moment.

The midwife gently caressed Elise’s belly with her calloused hand.

“At this rate she absolutely cannot give birth. She’ll die like this. Stay in there a little longer, sweet one,” she murmured to the unborn child. “If you come out now, it’ll be hard on both you and your mother…”

After giving instructions and warnings, she left to fetch a physician.

Even once they were alone, Rezette could not calm himself. Elise leaned against him as though collapsing entirely, her complexion worse than he had ever seen.

“It hurts… it hurts…”

She had been bedridden many times before, but nothing had ever frightened him like this. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed his lips to her cold cheek.

“It’s all right. It will be all right. Breathe, Elise. Just breathe…”

But halfway through, his voice faltered.

It was not all right. Not even remotely. And he, least of all, was all right.

Only hours earlier he had been tearing through burning Riosa, overturning debris with bare hands as he searched for her like a madman. From then until now, he had barely been sane.

The helplessness of being unable to ease her suffering had already turned dull with repetition. In its place came a heavy, chilling certainty.

She really might die.

This was not the vague dread he often carried. This was terror made real—an icy grip closing around his spine.

If he did nothing, Elise would certainly die. As his mother had. As so many women who bore Dragonborn had.

He would lose her forever.

A cold glint flashed through his blue, bloodshot eyes.

Then what must I do first, to prevent that?

No—his mind was already pointed in the wrong direction.

For the first time in his life, Rezette forced himself to consider the worst outcome.

If she dies… how do I bring her back?

“Re… zette,” Elise whispered.

Her thin, trembling hand rested atop his clenched fist.

“Magic… I’ll use healing magic. Lend it to me…”

She unraveled the vortex of power she had coiled so tightly around his throat. Rezette held his breath as the magic that soaked into her circuits refined itself into an orderly spell.

The completed healing magic seeped into her body.

Her limbs, which had felt as heavy as iron weights, lightened. The painkiller given by the midwife circulated quickly, easing her spasms. Her breathing slowly grew more even.

But the magic was only temporary. Forcing her blood to circulate faster, dragging her strength back up by sheer will—none of it would last.

“…I’m scared,” she whispered.

Tears slipped from her chin, one drop after another. The agony she had experienced so far—terrible as it was—was nothing compared to the true pain of childbirth. Terror struck her all at once.

“I—I’m scared. I’m not… not ready…”

“Shhh.”

“Rezette… Rezette…”

He embraced her tightly as she burrowed into him like a frightened fawn. He forced his voice steady so she wouldn’t sense his own unraveling.

“There will be no problems. Don’t be afraid.”

And even if something did go wrong—he would put everything back the way it was. By any means necessary.

“Cherry…” she whimpered faintly.

“Cherry knows I’m here,” Rezette murmured. “Don’t cry… Once you sleep and wake, the pain will be gone.”

Indeed, his magic was flowing steadily into the space below her navel. Elise managed a weak nod.

Only after casting healing magic twice more did she finally fall asleep as though fainting. Rezette stayed awake through the night, watching the rise and fall of her breath.

Every time it quieted, he had to restrain himself from shaking her awake. His heart was in a constant uproar.

“…Idiot,” he muttered at himself.

The midwife’s lament—Too thin, far too thin for a pregnant woman—tormented him endlessly. He felt as though he alone had driven her to this point, his remorse an unbearable weight.

He raked a hand through his hair and tilted his head back. A warped crescent moon hung in the dark-blue sky. Its pale glow reminded him of Elise’s hair.

With no one beside him to speak hopeful words, the worst possibilities gnawed at him ceaselessly.

If Elise could not give birth. If she left him—far beyond reach—before he could do anything.

Was there no way to bring her back?

He stared blankly, thoughts circling in a feverish blur.

Dragons, mages, barbarians… magic, heroes… twins…

He did not know how long he sat in that fog.

Then hooves clattered outside. A knight of Rotiara leapt from his horse, having ridden through the night.

The courier with news of the situation had arrived.

Rezette rose carefully so as not to wake Elise.

“The castle’s flames have not yet died down,” the knight reported. “Aside from that, the gorge’s entry has been secured. The barbarians were executed on sight. Norella’s soldiers have been captured and detained.”

He fell silent, waiting uneasily for his lord’s response.

With the commander who had charged into the burning castle still missing, the allied forces had been left without a leader. As soon as Rezette had sent word of his whereabouts through a village messenger, Ruben had dispatched this knight.

“How long would it take you to march to Pahan?” Rezette asked.

“At full speed, seven to ten days, my lord.”

Pahan lay far north even within central Grandel. Even at Rezette’s own speed, reaching it would take five days one-way—ten for a round trip.

Too far.

Far too long to leave Elise’s side.