Chapter 53 Patience, King （Eight Months Later）
Eight Months Later
SOUNDTRACK: Climb by ADONA
~ MELEK ~
I sat in the throne room of the Palace of Theynor.
While Yilan had agreed to the addition of several long, colorful tapestries to warm the audience chamber up a bit, I still struggled to feel at home here.
Or perhaps it wasn’t the palace, but the unforgiving nature of the throne itself that made me want to squirm like a boy learning numbers.
It was true, I often looked for reasons to cut short our audiences.
Yilan must have noticed my shifting weight, because her eyes cut to glare at me from the corner of her gaze, and her voice bloomed in my head.
‘Your subjects come to hear their king’s wisdom. You could at least listen.’
I had to cover a cough. ‘Our citizens come to plead for the king and queen’s favor. I already told them my judgment of the dispute—this man just wants to ingratiate himself. I’ve never had time for bootlickers.’
Her lips thinned, and I fought a smile. She didn’t want to admit she hated this kind of audience as well. She was trying to be an example to me.
And in truth, she’d done an admirable job.
We’d determined that we wouldn’t attempt to blend the Nephilim and Shadekin against their wills. Both nations were free to come and go across the continent as they pleased. But they were under the same rule, and would abide by the laws—and freedoms—we’d set forth, or be punished.
The Neph were required to treat all citizens with equal respect and autonomy. Slavery was outlawed, while paid servants were encouraged to take pride in their labor, and be allowed lives outside their working duties.
The Neph would not use their strength to intimidate. And the Shadekin would not hold contempt for the healthy freedoms the Neph enjoyed—or use their power to be creepy, as Jann put it.
Everyone took some time to grow accustomed to each other, but so far there had been no serious breaches. Probably because we’d slaughtered half the Nephilim population—and every golden eye—and most of the Shadekin remained in Theynor.
That was a problem we hoped would be solved by the Royal City we would establish at the center of the continent.
With Dragtharn’s population devastated by the Nephilim conquering, and the great plains even more empty than before, it was agreed that we’d bring resources to the land to rebuild—and establish a city at its center.
A place where Neph and Shadekin and all other peoples would be trusted to mingle and grow into this new kingdom we envisioned.
A union of the Nephilim strength of body, and the Shadekin strength of will.
Though that was all for the future. It would be years in the making. For now, we worked with what we had.
After a few months in Ebonreach, clearing the scum from the citizenry there and establishing the new rule of law, we travelled back to Theynor to cement the alliance of our peoples.
Which also allowed Yilan, Istral, and Diadre to have their babies at home with the female attendants and traditions to which they were accustomed.
It was a relief that we’d made it safely, since all the babes were due in the coming weeks.
I cut my mate a glance to measure her. She’d been chastising me, but the truth was, she was exhausted and trying to cover for it by reclining in her throne, resting her elbow on the arm while her head tipped prettily against her fist.
Yilan often pulled her hair back for formal events, and while the style suited her high cheekbones and catlike eyes, it also emphasized the new fullness of her cheeks… and the rest of her.
I let my eyes slide from her beautiful face, down the length of her neck to her collarbones—revealed by the wide boat neck of her gown—to the fullness of her breasts, and the swell of her now lush body.
Pregnancy suited my mate, and set my blood afire.
Her body flushed and full. Her stomach had protruded uncomfortably recently.
She was self-conscious about it. I’d enjoyed turning her over on the bed so that her full belly was supported, and pulling her ass high.
The midwife assured me that I wouldn’t hurt the babe, and that my mate’s increased cries weren’t pain.
That the changes in her body turned her orgasms into tidal waves of—
‘Melek! Stop it! We’re in Audience!’
‘I’d be happy to give them something to applaud.’
‘Melek!’
I rubbed my mouth and jaw—reminded that I needed to shave—to hide my growing smile. Yilan’s need for me had grown during her pregnancy—a royal duty I was more than happy to fulfill. So, we’d used her condition as an excuse for daily naps.
I doubted we fooled anyone. I knew how servants observed and whispered. But frankly, I was beyond caring. There’d been so much death and struggle and pain in the preceding years, it seemed high time for us to enjoy each other.
My eagerness for my mate definitely had nothing to do with fear for her safety as the babe’s time drew near.
We’d brought Teen, the servant midwife from the Valgorath Palace, with us to Theynor.
She’d proven remarkably knowledgeable in herbs and tinctures, useful during the trip.
Yilan had already promoted her to the position of Royal Physician—and she spent any hours she wasn’t attending Yilan, Istral, or Diadre, studying the Shadekin medicinal practices, unique herbs, and exchanging knowledge with the midwives and apothecaries here.
She even knew a mix of herbs that could be relied upon to keep any woman free of pregnancy—even with a Neph.
Something we’d all taken advantage of, because Gall, Jann, and I agreed, we weren’t risking our mates to another pregnancy if it could be avoided.
Yilan and our boy were going to be fine.
I wiped a sheen of sweat from my brow, as Yilan reached for my hand and twined our fingers. I squeezed and held her hand tightly, to offer what comfort I could.
She was so easily moved to emotion these days. A normal symptom of pregnancy, I was assured. Still, it was unsettling when tears or rage appeared without warning.
I’d barely finished the thought when a door opened at the side of the chamber, and Turo marched into the room.
I still had the urge to sigh whenever I saw the man.
He would always have a stick up his ass the size of a wagon axle.
However, the man was more tolerable now—evidenced by the revelation of a wicked sense of humor.
In the few weeks we’d been back, I’d seen his quiet, cutting insight, reduce Yilan to a spluttering, indignant cat more than once.
He’d found a new love while we were away, and there was no doubt, the man was a great deal more pleasant to have around now that he was happy.
As he crossed the chamber, his heels clicked on the grey stone so loudly, our brown-noser had to increase the pitch of his pleas to be clearly heard.
“…a great disparity between the resources offered to those in the villages, as opposed to those near the palace. You understand, Sire, that all levels of society are affected by this alliance, and with the growing Neph population, security is of paramount importance—”
“The few Neph in Theynor have proven both their loyalty, and self-control,” I growled.
“What need have you for security against your new brothers? If it isn’t to guard against them, why are you not asking for their assistance?
Their strength could be a great asset to you in building. Among other things.”
The man ducked his head, and that wheedling tone increased as he began his excuses. But I’d stopped listening, because my mate was suddenly panicking.
‘Diadre’s in labor!’ Yilan screeched in my head, then she lifted her chin, and addressed the room as she levered herself awkwardly out of the large throne.
“I do apologize, but this Audience will be postponed. We are required at an urgent, er, meeting. Please return next week!” she said firmly, then waddled down the steps and towards the side-door where Turo had appeared, her gait still quick, but her movements swaying now because of the extra weight, and her widening hips.
I accepted the reluctant bows of the people, then hurried after her, only catching her when she’d already made it into the wide, main hallway and was gripping her side as she ran.
“Yilan, slow down. You’re hurting.”
“It’s only tendons softening. She’s been in labor for hours, Melek! They forgot to inform me!” she snarled, with a dark glance at me.
“I didn’t know,” I said honestly.
“Yes, but did you order them not to tell me? I know I’ve been worried, but it’s worse not to know—” she hissed and hobbled a few steps, one hand gripping her side, the other cradling her belly. “The kicking is not necessary, son!”
She squawked as I swept her up and off her feet. “Melek, put me down! I’m going to my friend!”
“Of course you are—and you’ll go faster on my legs than yours,” I said sweetly.
“I am still fully capable of—”
“Yes, you are. And I heard Teen advise you to keep moving—but also to rest more. You aren’t supposed to overdo it.” Then I looked down at her round form in my arms, and gave her my sternest expression. “You need to be taken care of as well, my love.”
She grumbled, but her cheeks pinked when I patted the large swell of her tummy, then darted through the corridors much faster than she could have on her own.
As we drew closer to Jann and Diadre’s chambers, my mate’s tension increased, and mine as well. “Don’t worry,” I murmured to her, stroking her back. “We have Teen, as well as the Court midwives, and every resource available. Diadre will live to raise their boy, and so will you,” I said firmly.
I knew she truly was worried when she didn’t argue with me, but just nodded. She’d wrapped her arms around my neck, and now she looked up at me. “How is Jann feeling about it?!”
An almighty roar echoed through the hallways ahead. I grimaced. “Like that,” I said.
Moments later we turned the corner, and the servants opened the door to the large antechamber at the entrance to our friend’s suite. But to my surprise, Jann wasn’t in the bedroom—he paced the antechamber, roaring and swearing. I paused at the door, and one of the guards cleared his throat.
“Sire, the midwives made him leave for… interfering too much.”
I frowned—no man should be removed from his mate’s birthing bed.
But Yilan growled. “I knew you couldn’t keep your mouth shut!
” she hissed at Jann, who glared as I placed her on her feet and kissed her cheek.
Still, without another word, she trotted—stiffly—into the bedchamber.
So, I turned to face Jann, and raised my hands to remind him that I was an ally, not an enemy when he snarled.
“They kicked me out, Mel! My own son, and they kicked me out—”
“What did you say that made them—”
“I only told them that they were moving too slowly when she asked for water—and they refused it! Said that she was too far gone. But she’s been sweating for hours and—”
A startling scream pierced the air, and all Jann’s fury disappeared. He whirled towards the doors, his face pale and brows high.
Voices murmured, and Diadre cried out again, then went quiet.
“It’s moving too fast. It can’t be safe. She’s only been laboring a few hours,” Jann breathed. “She couldn’t possibly deliver safely when the baby is that large, and she’s only—”
There was another long, jagged cry—Diadre in pain—then everything went quiet.
Too quiet.
Jann and I both froze. For an impossibly long time, we stared at that door. I pleaded with the women to say something. To send a message. To give us some idea—
Then, a thin, high wail pierced the air.
A baby’s cry.
Jann stood bolt upright and his eyes went round. “My son!”
He launched forward, through the door, splintering it like matchsticks, to reach his mate and son.
Son. His son.
Holy shit.