Condemned (The Exalted Trilogy #1)

Prologue

Medora's scream pierces the night. The pain is worse than anything she’s ever experienced.

Her partner dabs the sweat from her forehead.

He comforts her, consoles her, supports her as best he knows how.

In this moment it’s clear to everyone in the room that he’d give anything to take this pain on himself.

Medora screams again as the head begins to appear.

The midwife tells them it’s just a little further now.

Medora’s partner moves to the end of the bed, excitement in his eyes. One more push and there’s a face. A few more force the shoulders through. Then one final excruciating shove and the rest of the tiny body slips free. The father’s face drains of color. His excitement and joy shift into icy fear.

“Medora,” he whispers, not taking his eyes off the baby in the midwife’s arms. “It’s a girl.”

Medora’s blue eyes go wide. “Altair,” she croaks. “We can’t.” Tears mix with the sweat drenching her face.

“I know, my love,” he soothes. He rounds the plush four-poster bed and takes her face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the moisture coating her cheeks. Pushing her sweat-soaked blond hair back, he kisses her forehead gently and cradles her head to his chest. “I know.”

The midwife turns toward the oak doors with the screaming baby still in her arms, ready to make a hasty exit.

“Stop,” Altair commands. “Give me the child.”

“But sir, you know the law. It’s best not to bond.”

His voice drops low. “I’m aware of the law, midwife.” He holds his hands out for the infant. “Give. Me. My. Child.” His voice is quiet, but each word is suffused with power. A faint green glow emanates from his usually hazel eyes.

The midwife lowers her eyes and passes the screaming baby to Altair, concern marring her plump features.

Altair gazes into the baby’s face, running a hand through the soft shock of bright red hair on the top of her head.

The baby’s cries slow and then stop altogether, and in that small moment he knows he will not follow the law.

He cannot allow this beautiful baby girl to be disposed of.

A lock of Altair’s bright red hair falls in front of his eye as he looks to the midwife, who hasn’t moved from her place in front of him.

She still won’t meet his eyes. She knows what he’s capable of.

“I will pay whatever is necessary to keep this to yourself,” he says.

“But sir. The Exalted . . .”

Altair’s eyes soften. “The Exalted do not need to know. They will not know of your involvement. I swear to you. You have been my family’s midwife for years. You delivered me yourself. Please.” The midwife looks to Medora, then the child.

Altair unties the money purse from his belt and hands it to her.

It's heavy with coin, much more than her usual fee.

“Think of the extra coin as a down payment on a home for your children and grandchildren,” Altair says, his voice pleading.

Finally, the midwife looks up at Altair, and a small, knowing smile pulls at her mouth.

Bowing her head in understanding, she walks out the door, not uttering another word.

Altair turns to Medora as the door clicks behind him.

He walks the baby over to her and places the tiny, redheaded bundle in her arms. The baby only fusses a little before settling into the comfort of her mother’s arms. Tears are flowing from both mother and father, the plush mattress sagging as Altair joins mother and child on the bed.

“She’s perfect,” Medora breathes. Altair nods, a wide, content smile breaking across his face. They sit together, cuddled up and staring at their daughter, both afraid to break the moment.

“Medora.” He turns his body on the bed to face her fully.

“The other Exalted know I have a child on the way. They likely know you will deliver soon. If they find out she’s a girl .

. .” His breath falters. He can’t finish that thought.

“She’ll never be safe here.” Medora’s head falls forward, cooing to the now-sleeping child.

She turns her face back to Altair, gently places a kiss on his lips, and nods in understanding.

Determination and stubbornness straighten Medora’s spine and set her brow. “We’ll go to the Rookery. I’ll keep her hidden. I’ll keep her safe.”

“The Rookery is no place for a child, my love. There has to be another way. You can go to Kanas, or Kuarmac. She’ll be safer there.”

Medora’s eyes soften. “I won’t let the Exalted run me out of my city. Vayna deserves to know her father.”

“Vayna.” Altair gazes down at the baby, brushing his hand through her soft hair again. “It suits her.” Medora smiles.

“I can’t go with you.” Altair can’t look at Medora while his heart cracks. “If I try, they’ll find me, find her.”

Tears burn behind Medora’s eyes. She kisses Altair again. “I know.”

“I’ll do what I can. You’ll have the nicest house in the Rookery. I’ll hire security to watch over you at all times. I’ll make sure you both want for nothing. I’ll—”

Medora places her fingers gently over Altair’s lips, silencing him. “No, my love. We have to blend in. Remember, I’m from The Rookery, I know those streets as I know myself. I can and will protect her.”

Altair reaches over and picks up his daughter from Medora’s arms, then gets up from the bed while staring lovingly, longingly, at the tiny baby in his arms.

“I’ll tell the other Exalted you died in childbirth and that the child was disposed of. They’ll have no reason to go looking for you. For her.” He turns back to Medora, swallowing against the hard lump in his throat. “It’s the only way,” he croaks. She nods. She knows.

He climbs back into bed with the only woman he’s ever loved and his perfect daughter.

Men in his position, patriarchs, aren’t supposed to fall in love with the mothers of their children.

This pregnancy was only meant to be a contract, a way to produce an heir.

A way to carry on his family’s legacy, to ensure he wouldn’t be the last of his house.

But when he met Medora, he knew he’d never be the same.

Everything had changed in that moment. They’d entered into the standard contract of bearing an Exalted child, but they both knew it was more than that—much more.

When she secretly moved into his manor, they planned to have a child and raise him together, to be a family.

They were so lost in their bliss, they never considered what would happen if the child was a girl.

What that would mean for them, for Altair.

And now that he is holding a daughter instead of a son, he knows he’s lost everything. His already cracking heart completely shatters. The small family falls asleep, holding each other for what they know may be the last time.