LOGINTHIRD PERSON POVThe afternoon sun came in through the windows of Rebecca's sitting room, warming the pale stone floor and turning the dust motes into floating gold. Rebecca sat in the wide armchair Donald had moved from his study three days after she mentioned, in passing, that it was the most comfortable seat in the house. It had appeared overnight without discussion. He had never mentioned moving it. She had never thanked him. Some things did not need words.Maren sat across from her, the old woman's hands folded in her lap, her eyes holding a particular light that Rebecca had learned to recognize. It was the look she got when she was about to give someone something important."I have been holding something for a long time," Maren said. "I kept telling myself I would know when the right moment came. I think this is it."She reached into the worn leather bag she had brought and withdrew a small wooden box. Plain, unadorned, the wood polished to a deep, warm glow by decades of handli
THIRD PERSON POV"God is my help," he translated immediately. His eyebrows lifted slightly. "That is a weighty name for a child.""He will need it," she said. "All three of them will. They are heirs of a territory that has faced war and exile and betrayal. They are descendants of a lineage that has been hunted and broken. They will need to know that they are not alone. That something larger than themselves walks with them."Donald looked at her. "You are speaking about yourself as much as them."She was quiet for a moment. Then she said: "Yes. I am."He reached for her face, cupping her cheek with a gentleness that still surprised her after all this time. "You are not alone either, Becca. You will never be alone again."She leaned into his palm. "I know. But they will need to know it too. In their bones, in their blood and in the very shape of their names.""Azriel," he said again, tasting the word."Azriel," she confirmed.He set the paper down and turned to face her fully. "Tell me
THIRD PERSON POVThe territory had surrendered to sleep hours ago. The bedroom held only the soft amber glow of a single lamp, its light pooling like honey across the pillows. Rebecca reclined against the headboard, her hands resting on the generous curve of her stomach, where three distinct lives moved in their own private rhythms. She had a cup of cooled tea that sat forgotten on the nightstand.Donald lay beside her, one arm folded behind his head, and the other resting possessively on her hip. This was the only version of him that existed in these quiet hours where he was unguarded, unhurried, and completely hers."We need to talk about names," she said.He turned his head and found her eyes. "I thought we had already discussed this.""We discussed possibilities," she corrected. "We have not yet decided.""Is there a difference with you?"She slapped his chest lightly. "Yes. Possibilities are what we talk about when we are being polite. Decisions are what we make when we are seri
THIRD PERSON POV"You are doing it again," Donald said.Rebecca looked up from the land report she was reading. She was sitting sideways in the large chair by the window, her legs over the armrest, a cup of warm ginger tea on the table beside her. She was four months along now and the morning sickness had finally eased, replaced by a hunger that arrived at inconvenient hours and a heaviness in her body that she had decided to simply work around."Doing what?" she asked, like she didn't understand what he was saying."Working when Sable specifically said to rest in the afternoons.""I am reading," she said. "Reading is not working.""That is a land dispute report.""It is light reading," she said.He looked at her."Rebecca.""Donald." She replied, laughing.He crossed the room and took the report out of her hands. She let him, because she had learned which arguments were worth having and which ones were not. This was not one of them."One hour," he said. "No reports. No correspondence.
THIRD PERSON POV"Rowan is going to fall off his chair in shock," Rebecca said, laughing. They decided to tell Rowan the following morning. As they were walking to Rowan's office together, Donald had his hand at the small of Rebecca's back, the corridor quiet at this early hour."He will not fall off his chair," Donald said."He is going to fall off his chair, I tell you," she said again.Donald almost smiled.Rowan was at his desk already working through the morning reports, when they arrived. He looked up when they walked in and read their faces. He set his pen down."What happened?" he said."Nothing bad," Donald said, grinning widely."Okay…" Rowan said, then looked at Rebecca.She was watching him with the particular expression of someone who is about to say something they have been looking forward to saying."I am pregnant," she said, unable to hold it anymore.Rowan stared at her in shock.He looked at Donald. Then back at Rebecca. Then at Donald again."Congratulations," he
THIRD PERSON POV"You have not touched your food," Donald said.Rebecca looked down at her plate. He was right. She had moved things around without eating any of it, which was unlike her. She picked up her fork and made a deliberate effort."I am fine," she said. "Not very hungry this morning."He said nothing. He watched her for a moment and then returned to his own food. But she caught the way his eyes moved back to her twice more before the meal was done.It had been like this for about a week.Tiredness that arrived earlier than it should and stayed longer than it had any right to. A faint nausea in the mornings that she had been quietly managing by eating plain things before she got out of bed. A sensitivity to certain smells — the candles in the east corridor, the particular soap the kitchen used — that had never bothered her before.She had told herself it was the aftermath of everything. The trial, the poison, the revelations about her mother. Her body catching up to the weigh
Rowan's POVAlessia and I walked back to where the meals were set and sat down at the long table under the flowering vines, the plate in front of me half-eaten. The spiced cider was still warm in my hand when I saw Rebecca.She walked fast across the square with hair loose, her gown neat and differ
Rebecca’s POVTwo days had passed since Vladimir and Alessia left for the hunt.I woke each morning in the same lavender-painted cottage, sunlight pouring through the window like warm honey, and roses tapping gently against the glass. The bed was soft, the blankets smelled of clean linen and faint
Donald's POV I burst through the estate gates like a storm breaking, my wolf lathered in sweat, and my paws throwing up gravel that scattered the guards like startled birds. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard, but I barely noticed. My mind was a whirlwind. I hat
THIRD PERSON POV—Rowan and Donald.Rowan woke up first, to the smell of hot cake.It drifted through the pines like a memory he didn’t know he was hungry for. The smell was sweet, buttery, edged with cinnamon and the faint char of a stone hearth. For one disoriented heartbeat, he forgot where they







