A Father’s Promise
A Father’s Promise
Denalia squirmed in Luka’s arms as he rocked her to sleep. Her brows pinched together, letting her father know she wasn’t pleased with him. He leaned down and kissed her wrinkled brow.
“You are boorish, like your mother,” he whispered, resuming his rocking under Ezra’s watchful eye.
“She is as impatient as she is boorish,” his advisor mentioned. “Hence her premature arrival.”
Luka gently brushed her black silk curls. “Her blessed premature arrival,” he corrected firmly.
“Of course.”
“She favors me,” Luka said, holding up Denalia for Ezra’s examination.
“Respectfully, place your delusions aside, my King.”
Luka grunted and cradled Denalia in his arms.
“I still cannot believe I have an heir, and that she’s dead.”
“She is not dead. She is resting. I swear on my life she will return.”
Luka waved a hand.
“Don’t swear on your life. Denalia needs her godfather.”
“Godfather?”
“Don’t act so shocked, Ezra. Who else if not you?”
“Beta David,” Ezra replied, tone full of mirth.
“You are amused, and I had forgotten the wolf existed. Are we certain I can run a kingdom if I can’t maintain my household?”
“A king does not run a kingdom on his own. I have been supervising David. He is training and has regained significant strength and speed.”
Luka raised a brow.
“Truly?”
“He has. Dr. Blackwood calls it a supplement; I call it witchcraft.”
Luka nodded.
“Dr. Blackwood enjoys using unconventional methods.”
“Witchcraft,” Ezra replied plainly.
“Tell me, Ezra. When will David be ready to challenge Prince Lykaon for his throne?”
“Approximately three months.”
Denalia interrupted them with a cranky whimper.
“Hungry? Again?” Luka gasped. “You are a piggish little thing.”
Without hesitation, he bit his finger and held it to her lips. Greedily, she wrapped her lip around his finger and suckled.
“I can summon a wet nurse,” Ezra offered.
Luka barked a laugh, startling the child, whose arms flailed around until he tucked them back into the blanket.
“Imagine the carnage that would ensue if Matilda were to rise and find our daughter nursing from another woman. My head would be on a pike.”
Ezra smirked as he pictured the image.
“She is a hybrid. Blood shall suffice until her mother’s return.”
“Matilda will be unable to express nourishment upon her return; her body will be new,” Ezra explained.
Luka massaged his temple with his free hand when reality settled in.
“You are correct,” he replied grimly. “Perhaps I should’ve waited.”
Ezra nodded. “I believe the manner in which you turned her was a misstep. You killed her without her consent.”
“We discussed it, and she agreed—”
“At the time, she did, but did you think that maybe after giving birth and seeing her child take her first breath that her feelings changed? What would’ve been the harm to wait a few days, or a fortnight?”
Luka waved a hand, cutting his advisor off.
“Have I not suffered enough, Ezra? Must you continue to torment me?”
“Forgive me,” Ezra replied with a gentle nod of remorse.
Luka’s gaze settled on Denalia, and he swore he didn’t blink until the sun sat high in the sky.
Ezra cleared his throat from the background.
“I know you wanted me nearby, but would you like to bond with Denalia alone?”
Luka thought for a moment. No doubt, he was in a fragile state, but holding his daughter gave him more strength than he’d prepared for. His world didn’t feel like it was falling apart. She was the thin thread that needled through his heart, piecing it together.
“Please leave us.”
“Very well. I will check on you both soon.”
They were left alone; their only company was the low, smoldering fire in the stone fireplace. He held her tighter as her soft breath caressed his neck.
For a long time, he simply held her as her fingers curled around the edge of his tunic, gripping with surprising strength.
He released a trembling breath.
“You don’t even know what you’ve done to me,” he whispered.
The baby stirred, her face scrunching before she settled again.
“I lied to myself earlier when I said you favored her. Your godfather called it delusions, and he was right. You look like her,” he murmured. “The shape of your mouth; the way you furrow your brow when you sleep. You’re her twin.”
His voice cracked.
“And I took her from you.”
The words hung heavy in the quiet room.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry, little one. I made a choice no father or husband should ever have to make. I chose a path that stole your mother’s first moments with you.”
His hand trembled as he cupped the back of her head.
“But I swear to you, I did it to bring her back forever. I did it to give you a mother who will walk beside you for centuries, not just years.”
Denalia shifted again, and a soft sound escaped her. Luka closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her tiny body seep into the cold places inside him.
“You deserve the world,” he whispered. “And I will give it to you. Every corner of it. Every wonder. Every joy.”
He leaned back, rocking her gently.
“You are destined for greatness, Denalia. I can feel it in your blood. You are the child of a queen and a king. You will change Night Falls for the better.”
His voice softened reverently.
“But until your mother returns… I am yours. I will protect you. I will raise you. I will make sure you never feel alone. You are my light in this darkness,” he whispered. “My reason to keep breathing. My reason to wait.”
Denalia’s tiny hand unfurled, brushing against his chest.
Luka caught it gently, holding it against his heart.
“And when she rises,” he murmured, “we will be whole again.”
He rocked her until her breathing deepened and her fingers laxed.
His thoughts took a sudden darker turn.
“Loving you means protecting you. It means removing the thorns that threaten to prick you. It means protecting your claim to the throne. It means killing Draven.”