Chapter 9 - The First Snow
Six months later, the first heavy snows of winter blanketed the valley of Blackwood in a thick, blinding quilt of white.
Inside the royal chambers, the air was warm, scented with cedar logs and lavender oil. A gentle fire crackled in the hearth, casting long, amber shadows across the stone floor.
Clare lay propped up against a pile of velvet pillows, her breath coming in slow, rhythmic pants as she clutched Ethan’s hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"If you ever," Clare panted through clenched teeth, glaring up at the towering alpha king who looked considerably more terrified than she did, "ever suggest we have a second child..."
"Never," Ethan said instantly, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, looking down at her as if she were made of spun glass. "Never again. I'm tearing down the entire east wing to build a fortress of solitude."
The palace healer, Nora Bennett—who had traveled north with Martha months earlier—bustled toward the bed holding a warm linen bundle. With a soft, triumphant cry that echoed off the stone walls, a new voice cut through the quiet room.
Nora wrapped the squirming, red-faced infant in wool and handed him directly to Clare’s trembling arms.
Clare looked down. The baby had a shock of dark hair and a tiny, perfect fist that immediately reached out, gripping her thumb with surprising strength. A faint, silvery birthmark, shaped precisely like a crescent moon, shimmered just behind his tiny left ear.
Ethan dropped to his knees beside the bed, his broad shoulders trembling slightly as he touched the baby’s cheek with the tip of his finger. The child let out a soft, bubbling sigh and settled instantly against his mother's chest.
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"An alpha," Ethan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "He has your eyes."
Clare smiled, leaning her head back against the pillows while the wind howled harmlessly against the thick glass of the northern windows. "No," she whispered, kissing the top of her son's head. "He has your stubbornness."
