Chapter 19 - The Birth of the Heir
Seven months later, a violent winter storm lashed against the stone spires of the royal keep, mirroring the stormy night nine months prior when Rowena had been dragged into the subterranean dungeon as a sacrifice.
Inside the royal bedchamber, however, the room was filled with intense warmth, golden candlelight, and the scent of soothing lavender oils.
Kaelen paced frantically across the thick carpets, his broad shoulders tense, his silver eyes wild with anxiety. Every time a muffled scream escaped the inner chamber, his heart slammed violently against his ribs. The great Alpha King, who had faced dark armies and ancient warlords without flinching, was completely terrified.
"My Lord, please sit," General Vance urged, holding out a wooden cup of water. "The Queen is strong. She has the ancient magic of the First Priestesses."
"She is in pain, Vance!" Kaelen growled, his wolf spirit thrashing inside him, desperate to break through the doors and protect his mate.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, ringing cry echoed from the inner room—clear, strong, and full of life.
The heavy wooden doors swung open. High Priest Aldous stepped out, his face beaming with profound joy. "Your Majesty... you may enter."
Kaelen didn't walk; he rushed into the room, ignoring the servants and physicians.
Rowena lay against soft silk pillows, her silver-black hair damp with sweat, looking exhausted but glowing with an angelic, ethereal beauty. In her arms, wrapped in soft white wool embroidered with silver thread, was a newborn infant.
Kaelen dropped to his knees beside the bed, his voice completely failing him as tears spilled down his rugged cheeks. He gently reached out a trembling finger, touching the baby’s tiny, warm hand.
The newborn opened its eyes—striking, radiant eyes that shifted hypnotically from molten gold to brilliant silver, carrying both the royal Alpha blood and the pure lunar magic of the priestesses.
"It's a girl," Rowena whispered softly, her eyes shining with endless love as she looked up at her husband. "Our little princess."
Kaelen leaned down, pressing his forehead against Rowena’s, his tears wetting her cheek. "She is perfect, my Queen. Absolutely perfect."
May you like
"What shall we name her?" Rowena asked, looking down at their daughter, who let out a soft, sweet yawn before drifting off to sleep in her mother's arms.
Kaelen smiled, kissing Rowena’s lips with boundless devotion. "Aurelia," he whispered softly. "Aurelia Whitmore Vance—the golden dawn of Aldoria."
