THE PREGNANT SHE WOLF
By the time I reached the door, the crying had escalated into full-blown wails.
I pushed the door open.
A young maid, one of the newer ones I presume, stood near the crib, bouncing awkwardly on her feet with Daemon in her arms. She looked exhausted and completely out of her depth.
“There, there,” she murmured nervously, rocking him too fast, too stiff. “It’s alright, little one.”
Daemon’s face was red, tiny fists clenched as tears streamed down his cheeks. The sight nearly broke me.
“That’s enough,” I said sharply.
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