Chapter 196

“Spring,” Elise murmured softly.

She extended a slender hand out the open window, letting the breeze coil around her fingers. In the wind brushing her skin, she felt the gentle warmth of the season. Spring arrived in Regal a little earlier than in Argan. As March settled in, the world she saw was filled with fresh green and the scent of blossoms. By now, she thought, spring flowers must be blooming in full across the imperial capital as well.

Today marked the eighteenth day since she had last received any news from outside.

The women attending Elise behaved as though bound by a pact. Not one of them spoke of the situation beyond these walls. Whether the joint forces of Argan and Regal had successfully reclaimed the imperial capital, or how fiercely the Northern Alliance was advancing on Ugel’s capital. No matter how often Elise asked, they only shook their heads with disciplined firmness.

“No matter whether the news is good or bad, you will hear it later,” one of them told her gently but firmly. “Once you deliver the baby safely, then everything. The physician said you must not become agitated under any circumstances.”

Even her attempt to secretly send a messenger pigeon to wherever Barnon might be had been intercepted. Ivetsa had recognized the white dove instantly and glared so sharply that the effort died on the spot.

By then, Elise had let go. She withdrew her concern from the affairs of the outside world and focused instead on the child she would soon meet, like any other woman nearing childbirth.

“The head chef said he is baking lemon meringue cake today,” Ivetsa said brightly as she entered the bedroom carrying a basket of neatly folded towels. “If you have it with fragrant herb tea, it will be perfect as a palate cleanser. Your Highness?”

Ivetsa tilted her head when no answer came. Elise was leaning against the window frame with her eyes closed. A chill ran through Ivetsa’s chest.

“Your Highness?” she called anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“…Yes,” Elise replied belatedly, opening her eyes with effort.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly. “The sunlight made me sleepy.”

“The sun is quite strong,” Ivetsa said at once. “You must not develop a rash. I will draw the screen.”

“No,” Elise replied, shaking her head. “I want to look outside.”

“But still…” Ivetsa hesitated, unable to shake her worry.

She understood all too well why the Grand Duke never took his eyes off his wife. Everyone caring for Elise remained tense from dawn to nightfall, never allowing themselves to relax.

“The baby is not in danger,” the physician had said earlier, his voice grave. “It is not the child weakening you. You were never suited to carry a pregnancy in the first place. Even if you had spent all ten months resting, it would have been barely enough. You must not use recovery magic any longer. You are forcibly maintaining an awakened state, and your natural healing has deteriorated far too much.”

Freya’s complexion darkened with each passing day, and Lady Petisson’s unease grew harder to conceal.

If anything were to happen to Her Highness, she thought anxiously, His Grace would never remain still.

From below the window rose the rich scent of butter. Chef Hummel, who had effectively taken over the inn’s kitchen, baked bread and desserts day after day without pause.

Elise rested both arms on the window frame and leaned her cheek against them. For a moment, she simply enjoyed the sensation of the wind combing gently from the crown of her head to the tips of her hair.

“Somehow,” Elise said languidly, “it feels like the time is coming, Ivetsa.”

“Yes?” Ivetsa asked, turning toward her.

“It feels close.”

She did not need a physician to tell her. This was her body, after all. She had the distinct feeling that she would meet Cherry very soon. It could not be far now. Perhaps only a few days remained.

The thought that the being who had been one with her would soon be separated filled her with an unexpected ache. Despite all the hardship, she felt reluctant. Eight months had already passed, astonishingly fast, and somehow that made her feel lonely.

“Everyone worries too much,” Elise murmured.

Ivetsa remained silent.

“He will be here the day after tomorrow,” Elise continued softly. “If I had been truly alone, I think I would have been afraid. But now, strangely enough, my heart feels calm.”

“If that is so, then I am relieved, Your Highness,” Ivetsa said sincerely. “Truly relieved.”

“Rezette will do well,” Elise said. “He will care for Cherry the way he cares for me. No, even half of that would be more than enough. As for me…”

“Your Highness,” Ivetsa interrupted sharply, rushing forward to wrap her arms around Elise’s shoulders. “What do you mean by that?”

Elise’s consciousness floated up and down, waking only to sink again into sleep. Drowsiness poured over her. In the bright, dazzling sunlight, someone beckoned to her.

“Andrei…” she whispered.

Her eyes drifted shut. For some reason, she felt as though she would soon meet her twin again.

She did not wake until the following evening.

The time she spent asleep had grown steadily longer. Each time she closed her eyes, Andrei appeared in the darkness. Though he seemed only a fingernail’s distance away, she would chase him for a long while, only to wake and realize that hours had slipped past in an instant.

One day left, Elise thought.

She sank into a large, plush pillow. She had not felt the baby move today. Freya and Lady Petisson reassured her that it was common when the time came, but still. They always chose words meant to ease her, carefully and deliberately.

As Elise stared blankly out the window, her eyes suddenly widened.

Against the red-stained glow of the setting sun, something was approaching. It was moving fast.

At first it was no more than a black speck. With each blink, it grew larger. Fingernail-sized. Finger-sized. Fist-sized.

A glossy black horse galloped powerfully toward the inn, kicking up small clouds of sand with every strike of its hooves.

“…Blackie,” Elise murmured without thinking.

She caught her breath sharply.

Someone leapt down from the horse as it reached the edge of the village. From the hood covering more than half his face, desert sand and gravel spilled down in a cascade.

The man raked a hand through his jet-black hair, loosened the hood’s ties, and shrugged off his cloak. Under the blazing sun, it might as well have been midsummer for a northerner. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, exhaled a breath of heat, and began striding toward the inn.

Elise clutched the window frame with both hands and leaned out.

“Rezette,” she cried.

As he shaded his eyes with his palm and scanned the inn, his gaze met hers.

Upon spotting her pressed against the window, Rezette closed his eyes tightly and murmured something. It was a short prayer.

Almost simultaneously, Elise whispered one of her own.

Thank you, gods.

His cheeks were gaunt from moving nonstop for twenty days, but he did not appear injured or unwell. She tried to smile, but tears came first.

When Rezette saw her bury her face in her hands, he froze. Relief at seeing her safe vanished at once, and without another glance around, he rushed straight into the inn.

On the first floor, Ivetsa and Lady Petisson sprang to their feet as he passed.

“Your Grace,” Ivetsa exclaimed.

“You have returned safely,” Lady Petisson said hurriedly. “Her Highness and the child are both well, so please remain calm and do not—”

Rezette did not listen. He took the stairs two or three at a time, heading for the room he had been forced to leave a month ago.

Without knocking, he threw the door open and crossed the room in a single stride, straight to her, bathed in the glow of the sunset.

Seated on the bed, Elise reached up and cupped his cheeks with both hands. She pulled him down and kissed him. Her cheeks were already soaked with tears.

Her labor began at dawn the following day.

There were four moments in Rezette’s life he never wished to experience again. The first was the day he foolishly scrawled his signature on Elise’s outrageous contract. The second was the day he planted the seed of life in her body.

The third was the day he searched the burning Riosa Castle like a madman, calling her name.

The fourth was this dawn, the day his child was born.

Whether Cherry sensed her father’s return and grew excited, or whether Elise’s long hours of lying or sitting finally ended when she rose again, the pain began that very evening. From the night Rezette returned, she had started to suffer.

Unlike before, Elise could not cry out or even say that she was in pain. The agony was unlike anything she had ever known. Her vision washed white, and her tongue went numb.

As predicted, it was a brutal labor.

“Water,” someone shouted urgently. “Bring clean water and towels.”

“Your Highness, you must not lose consciousness,” another pleaded. “Open your eyes.”

Amid voices warning that if she could not push, they might have to cut her open, Rezette lost all sense of direction. Elise writhed, fainted, woke screaming in pain, and fainted again.

If only there had been a mage, someone who could cast recovery magic mid-labor. But the only person capable of magic was Elise herself, and even that was impossible now.

Rezette never wanted to smell her blood again.

Blood, screams, tears, her hands going limp again and again. He never wanted to endure any of it a second time.

The memory of his own birth overlapped with the present, and his mind could not remain intact. Rebecca Pettinson tried to force him out of the birthing room, unable to bear it, but he would not move.

After a night like hell, only when the dawn rooster crowed did a baby’s cry finally ring out.

Cradling the bloodied infant wrapped hastily in white cloth, Ivetsa gasped.

“Oh my… on the back of her hand…”

Clutched tightly in the baby’s tiny fist was a small scale. It was black and glossy, like polished obsidian.

That was not all. On the baby’s back, something else clung. A small wing, wrinkled and wet, folded neatly against her body. There was only one, and even that looked fragile enough to vanish at any moment.

Rezette did not hear his daughter’s first cry. Elise had fainted from exhaustion. Her lips, pale to the point of blue, made her look like a corpse.

“Elise,” he whispered hoarsely. “Eli…”

He could not remember how he cut the umbilical cord.

He could not recall what the newborn looked like, whether she even had a proper human form. He knew he had seen her, but every detail evaporated from his mind.

“She lost too much blood,” someone said tensely.

“Her body temperature is dropping,” another warned.

“She must wake up, even briefly. For now, she must cast recovery magic, at least—”

The noise around him scrambled his thoughts. Rezette gathered her limp body into his arms, fumbling. He felt the faint breath brushing his upper lip and the slow heartbeat that seemed ready to stop at any moment.

He wanted to tell her she had done well, but there was no one to hear it. He could not even apologize for making her suffer. It felt as though he had forgotten how to speak entirely.

Rezette bit down hard on his cracked lip until blood welled.