Page 187 of The Soulbond and Her Beloved

He swallowed hard and pressed on, voice trembling. “—to hold them. To tell them we’re proud.”

“Princess Emeriel, push!” came the urgent voice of a midwife.

“I can’t…” Emeriel’s voice cracked.

“You must. You’re almost there!”

“I’m so tired…”

“You’re the one who’s growling now,” Vladya said. “So tell me, are we going in or not?”

Daemonikai grabbed the handle, Vladya joined him, and together, they shoved open the doors—ripping them off their hinges, handles clattering to the floor.

A healer rushed toward them. “Your Majesties, you cannot—!”

But they were already inside.

The bedchambers were lit low, awash in firelight. Emeriel and Aekeira lay side by side, legs braced, faces flushed with effort and pain. Sweat ran down their brows. Tears pooled in their lashes. And when their gazes found their males, both women’s expressions cracked open with relief.

Daemonikai moved to Emeriel’s side, dropping to his knees. He caught her outstretched hand in both of his.

“Daemon…” she whispered, her voice shaky and wet.

“Yes, my dearling.” He kissed her fingers, then her temple, brushing the damp hair from her face. “I’m here.”

“It hurts,” she cried.

“I know,” he murmured. “My brightest star, I know.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I know, my Beloved.” He kissed her again. “But you are doing beautifully.”

Aekeira’s voice came beside them, breathless and teary—“They didn’t tell me it would hurtthismuch—”

“I’m sorry, my dearest,” Vladya whispered, kissing her forehead, then her nose.

Daemonikai looked into Emeriel’s eyes. “Riel,” he said softly, “I wish I could bear the pain for you.”

“I don’t want you to,” she whispered with a faint, exhausted smile.

He smiled back, aching with love. “Of course you don’t. But we must not keep our little one waiting. He’s eager to meet his strong, beautiful mother.”

“And his legendary father,” Emeriel added, breath heaving.

He nodded. “And his legendary father.”

“Hold my hand through it,” Aekeira begged.

“Always,” Vladya vowed.

“It's coming, get ready!” Emeriel’s midwife warned—just as Aekeira’s midwife shouted, “Push!”

Vladya gripped Aekeira’s hand, whispering steady encouragements. Daemonikai held Emeriel’s tighter as she bore down, the effort wracking her body, her cries guttural.

“Good, Princess—again!”

And they did.

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