Chapter 22 Faith
TWENTY-TWO
FAITH
The opening day of the Festival of Twin Suns blazed across the palace gardens in a symphony of warmth and vibrant celebration, the air alive with the melodic weave of traditional music, the snap of ceremonial banners catching the breeze, and the electric pulse of joy that Faith now felt thrumming through her very bones—not as an outsider looking in, but as one of its vital, beating hearts.
A year ago, she had stood trembling beneath this same expansive sky, her hands shaking as she’d smoothed her borrowed royal blue gown, uncertain and overwhelmed by the weight of hundreds of assessing gazes.
Now she stood with serene confidence, one hand braced protectively beneath the pronounced curve of her very pregnant belly, feeling the gentle, secret movements of the twins nestled inside her.
The mate bond between her and Kovrak glowed with quiet, fierce pride as they prepared to open the festival together—not as prince and potential mate, but as king and queen, unified and unshakeable.
“You’re glowing,” Liora murmured as she approached, her bright blue eyes sparkling with affection and barely contained excitement. “Pregnancy suits you, Your Majesty.”
Faith laughed softly, the sound carrying genuine warmth.
“These two are certainly making their presence known today.” She pressed her palm more firmly against her belly as one of the babies kicked, sending a ripple of movement across the silk fabric of her ceremonial gown.
“I think they’re as eager for the celebration as everyone else. ”
The pride was strong, unified, and hopeful—transformed from the fractured, uncertain group she’d first encountered.
As elders approached with genuine smiles, as Merral inclined his silver head with paternal affection, as Thalen offered his characteristic nod of respect, Faith felt that deep, anchoring truth settle warm and sure in her chest. She belonged here among these magnificent shifters, human or not.
“My queen,” Elder Corwin approached with measured dignity, his weathered face creased with satisfaction. “The pride grows stronger each day under your joint leadership. Your influence has brought a harmony we have not known for decades.”
Kovrak’s large hand settled possessively at the small of Faith’s back, his ice-blue eyes tracking every person who approached his pregnant mate with the intensity of a predator assessing potential threats. Even after a year of marriage, his protective instincts burned fierce and unyielding.
“She has that effect,” Kovrak said, his voice carrying the quiet authority that made conversations still and heads turn. “My queen has a gift for bringing out the best in people.”
Faith felt heat rise in her cheeks at the pride in his tone, the mate bond pulsing with his fierce love and admiration.
Through their connection, she sensed his constant awareness of her, his tiger’s satisfaction at her rounded form carrying their cubs, and his need to shield her from any potential stress or danger.
The past year had reshaped her in ways that felt both extraordinary and deeply natural.
Her days balanced the intricate dance of royal duties—council meetings where her voice now carried weight, diplomatic functions where her presence brought warmth to formal proceedings—with early mornings spent in flour-dusted bliss, creating innovative desserts as she grew more accustomed to Nova Aurora’s exotic ingredients and the recipes she was building with them.
More than once during those council meetings, the elders had spoken softly of Kovrak’s parents, of the harmony and strength they had once brought to the pride.
When they compared the balance she and Kovrak achieved to that legendary partnership, Faith saw the quiet emotion those comparisons stirred in her husband.
Through the bond, she felt it like a healed scar glowing warm instead of aching—not grief but grateful remembrance.
“Your parents would be proud,” she had whispered to him after one such meeting, and the way his throat had worked, the way his arms had tightened around her, told her everything about how deeply those words affected him.
What still filled her days with the most profound joy was the small bakery Kovrak had surprised her with six months ago—a stunning space built in the heart of town, designed with her exact specifications though she’d never voiced them.
State-of-the-art ovens, equipment that surpassed her wildest Earth dreams, and every exotic ingredient Nova Aurora could offer, all arranged with meticulous care.
“You built this for me,” she had breathed when he’d led her through the gleaming space, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I built this for us,” he’d corrected, pulling her against his chest. “For your dreams to be transformed into something bigger here. Something shared.”
Liora’s unexpected decision to become her business partner had blossomed into something sacred—a shared creative joy that filled corners of Faith’s soul she hadn’t realized were empty back on Earth.
With Liora’s mother and grandmother working beside them, the bakery hummed with generational warmth, teasing banter, flour-covered hugs, and a feminine camaraderie that felt like being gently held by the life she had always needed.
“Speaking of the bakery,” Liora said now, her expression shifting to barely contained mischief, “we may have a small situation with tomorrow’s special orders.”
Faith raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘small situation.’”
“Well, apparently word has spread about your honey-starfruit tarts, and we’ve received requests from three neighboring territories. Thalen may have accidentally started a diplomatic incident by suggesting our desserts are superior to anything the mountain clans can produce.”
Thalen’s expression remained stoically neutral, though Faith caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I merely stated facts.”
Kovrak’s low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “My mate’s creations have become a point of territorial pride. I should be concerned about the political implications.”
“Should be,” Faith teased, rising on her toes to brush a kiss against his jaw, “but you’re not.”
“Not even slightly,” he confirmed, his arm tightening around her waist. “Let them come. They can taste what perfection looks like.”
The possessive satisfaction in his tone sent heat through her veins. Even heavy with pregnancy, even surrounded by hundreds of their people, Kovrak still looked at her like she was something rare he couldn’t quite believe was his.
“Your Majesties,” Merral approached with formal bearing, though his eyes held warmth. “The pride awaits your opening address.”
Faith felt Kovrak’s body tense slightly beside her, his alpha instincts shifting into protective overdrive as he prepared to guide his pregnant mate into the public eye. His hand moved to cradle her elbow with infinite care.
“Ready, my queen?” His voice was pitched low.
Faith looked out over the sea of expectant faces—their people, their pride, their chosen family—and felt nothing but fierce joy and unshakeable certainty.
“With you? Always.”
As Faith stepped onto the festival stage beside Kovrak, her silk gown rustling against the polished wood, the ghost of another moment crashed through her consciousness with startling vividness—twelve months ago, standing in this exact spot, knees buckling beneath royal blue fabric as hundreds of eyes assessed her worthiness.
The memory should have paralyzed her, but instead it anchored her.
Where once she had felt the crushing weight of scrutiny and belonging nowhere, now the same platform felt solid and welcoming beneath her feet, the sea of upturned faces below radiating warmth rather than judgment.
These were her people now. Not subjects to win over, but family who had already claimed her.
Her fingers tightened around Kovrak’s as he stepped forward to address the crowd. The twins responded to his deep tones with a flutter of movement that made Faith’s breath catch—tiny feet pressing against her ribs as though they, too, recognized their father’s voice.
“One year ago,” Kovrak began, his ice-blue gaze sweeping across the gathered pride, “we celebrated not just tradition, but transformation. Today we honor—”
The sensation struck without warning. Heat, liquid, and unmistakable—pooling between her thighs and soaking through silk as realization crystallized with dizzying clarity.
Her grip on Kovrak’s hand became desperate, her fingers digging into his palm as panic surged through her veins faster than logic could catch it.
No. Not here. Not now.
Through the mate bond, Kovrak felt her terror before she could voice it. His words faltered mid-sentence, his head turning sharply toward her, and when his gaze dropped to the growing wetness at her feet, understanding flashed across his features with fierce protectiveness.
“The babies,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the murmur of confusion rippling through the crowd.
Without hesitation, Kovrak swept her into his arms as though she weighed nothing, his movements fluid despite the urgency thrumming through his body. His voice rang out across the stunned assembly, steady and commanding even as his heartbeat thundered against her cheek.
“The future heirs of the Auryx pride have chosen this day to make their entrance,” he announced, authority masking the barely controlled panic she could feel through their bond. “Let the celebration continue—we have new reasons to rejoice.”
Faith pressed her face against his neck as he carried her off the stage and back inside through the palace corridors, breathing in his familiar scent of cedar and strength while another contraction built low in her abdomen.
The irony wasn’t lost on her—that their children would choose this day, this festival, the anniversary of the moment her entire life had pivoted.
It felt less like coincidence and more like destiny completing a perfect circle.
“They have impeccable timing,” she managed through gritted teeth as the contraction peaked.
The birthing chamber soon materialized around them in a blur of crisp linens and efficient movement.
The healers swarmed with practiced calm, settling her onto the bed while Kovrak hovered at her side, his large hand engulfing hers and refusing to release it even when the healers suggested he might be more comfortable waiting outside.
“I’m not leaving her,” he growled, the alpha command in his tone brooking no argument. “Not for a second.”
Between contractions, Faith found herself caught between laughter and disbelief. Of all the moments their twins could have chosen to arrive—during council meetings, quiet mornings in their chambers, peaceful afternoons in the bakery—they had selected the most public, ceremonial day of the year.
“I think they wanted to make an entrance,” she gasped as another wave of pain crested.
Kovrak pressed a cool cloth to her forehead, his touch infinitely gentle despite the tension radiating from every inch of his powerful frame. “They get that from you.”
The contractions intensified, each one stealing her breath and sending fire through her lower back.
Kovrak became her anchor—feeding her ice chips, whispering encouragement against her temple, his strength flowing through the mate bond to steady her when the pain threatened to overwhelm her completely.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as she squeezed his hand hard enough to bruise. “So strong.”
When the head healer instructed her to push, time fractured into fragments—breath, effort, and Kovrak’s voice guiding her through the storm of sensation.
The first cry shattered the tension like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, and suddenly there was weight against her chest, warm and impossibly small.
A daughter. Pale blue eyes like her father’s, soft golden hair catching the light, absolutely perfect in every way that mattered.
Kovrak’s composure cracked completely. Tears spilled freely down his face as he lifted the tiny infant with trembling hands, his expression raw with wonder and fierce protectiveness.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “So perfect.”
Another contraction surged, and moments later their son followed—dark hair like hers, warm brown eyes that blinked up at them with startling awareness. The symmetry felt profound, like the universe itself had whispered its approval of their union.
“What should we name them?” Kovrak asked, cradling their daughter while their son nestled against Faith’s chest.
“Henry,” Faith said without hesitation, gazing down at the dark-haired boy who had already wrapped tiny fingers around hers. “For our strong prince.”
“And Hailey,” Kovrak replied, his voice soft with reverence as he studied their daughter’s delicate features. “For our little princess.”
Exhaustion draped over Faith like a heavy blanket, but it was completely eclipsed by the overwhelming peace flooding her chest. Two perfect children, born from chaos and choice and love.
Kovrak leaned close, pressing a reverent kiss to her lips, his gaze radiant with devotion deeper than even the mate bond could contain.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.
As Faith looked between her mate and their children, she understood with quiet certainty that every risk, every fear, and every impossible leap had led here—not just to queenship or partnership but to motherhood.
“I love you too,” she breathed against his lips. “Stepping through Gerri’s portal was the best decision I’ve ever made.”