Winter Born: The Quartaine Series Book 1

PROLOGUE

“Just keep breathing slowly through your nose, then out through your mouth. That’s it...” The matron moved to the bottom of the bed and sat on the edge while checking how far along the heavily pregnant lady was.

“Something...has to be...wrong! This is taking...too long.”

The older woman gave a warm, reassuring smile as she settled the covers over the mother’s lower half to keep her modesty. Not that it would have mattered, given that the only people in the room with her were the mother-to-be and her husband.

“I promise you this is perfectly normal. You are nearly ready to push; just one more contraction. You are doing so well, my lady.” Moving quietly from the bed, the birthing matron moved to the table at the back of the room and began to lay out a clean blanket.

“My love, should I call for something for you to drink? Something to help give you strength for this last push before our son–”

“Or daughter!”

He laughed at his wife’s correction, “Or daughter comes into this world.”

Concerned, he settled on the edge of the bed at his wife’s side while taking her hand, cupping it in his. He had wanted to be here, they had discussed it, and Catherine, his normally sweet-natured wife, had insisted she wanted no one but him and the maid helping in the birth to be present.

In agreeing to his wife’s wishes, he had gone against protocol and caused many a brow to be raised and questions asked, as it had been centuries of tradition that the birth of the firstborn belonging to a High Protector was court witnessed. It was unheard of for the next in line to the Protector to be born without court witnesses or, at the very least, a few heads of court.

The High Protector’s wife’s hand gripped the bed covers as another wave of contractions hit. She fought hard to keep the cry of pain in but failed as the feeling of being torn open built to an all-time breathtaking high.

The grip she had on her husband”s hand tightened as she fought to maintain some sort of control over her own body as her beloved and much-wanted child fought to enter the world.

The doula made her way over to the bed and settled on the opposite side of her ruler. Upon inspection, she smiled first up at the tired female currently breathing through the last of the contraction. Tilting her head to the regal man at her side, she nodded as she spoke.

“It is time. Let us welcome your precious gift into our world.”

And a precious gift this child would be. It was not that fae females could not conceive. That was a falsehood, but it was all too common for them to lose the child as they approached the second rise of the full moon in their cycle.

For this was the fourth pregnancy of the royal couple and yet the only one to have reached full term. Which was perhaps the reason the High Protector had accommodated his wife’s birthing requests as quickly as he had.

As they waited for the next wave of pain to hit, he moved up to sit behind his wife, cradling her protectively, and the maid settled at the foot of the bed.

“As this wave of pain hits my lady, I want you to bear down into it. Push with all you can until I say stop.” The birthing maid had been bringing little fae into the world of the Winter Quartaine for over three centuries. So experienced that she could do it in her sleep.

Nodding, her face a wash of excitement and laced with pain, Lady Catherine Forrester of the Winter Quartaine settled in fierce determination to give birth to her child safely.

As the pain hit, she did as instructed. Paused and breathed, then pushed once more until she felt a searing pain rip through her. She felt a sudden release, and the loud pail of a child”s wail filled the opulent room.

The birthing maid cleaned the child and prepared it for its mother”s breast. The two proud parents smiled in relief when she finally spoke.

“My Lord and Lady, congratulations, you have a handsome son.”

“A son; you gave me a beautiful, healthy son Catherine.” Cian Forrester, the High Protector of the Winter Quartaine, smiled lovingly and proudly at his wife.

But Catherine Forrester’s smile faltered as the doula approached with her newborn son. A wave of pain was once again building, causing her to shoot a concerned glance at her husband.

“Cian...something’s wrong!”

She began to pant, her body tensed as if readying itself. Once more, her hand gripped the sheets as she fought the unrelenting urge to push.

Cian Forrester moved quickly from behind his wife to take the child from the maid.

“I am sure this is perfectly normal, my love.”

But he knew from the look on the older lady”s face this was not normal at all, and as he cooed down at his fussing son, he glanced over at the maid as she examined his wife. He watched as the color drained from her face.

“What is it?” Lady Catherine demanded.

“There is...another.”

“Another? What do you mean another? That can’t be. You are mistaken.” The High Protector’s gaze bounced between his wife and the lady positioned ready once more at the bottom of the bed.

As he watched the maid work, his wife screamed in pain as she pushed once more, bringing another child into the world. His expression shifted from concern to disbelief before settling like a stone on one of grim determination.

“You have a–”

“A son. We have a son, and that is all.” Ignoring his wife’s cry of panic, he took their firstborn and laid him on the bed. The old matron cleaned the second-born child and settled it alongside its sibling before getting back to tending to the wife of Cian Forrester. She had been casting nervous glances at the two wriggling little bundles and then at their parents.

Lord Forrester had his back to the matron and his newborn children, and although she could not hear the words he spoke to his wife, she did not need to. She watched as the bloom of joy worn ever so briefly on Lady Catherine’s face dulled and drained. The bliss of bringing life into the world appeared to have been snuffed out by whatever words he had spoken.

Rounding the large wooden bed, the older lady had no time to react as Forrester gripped her by the arm and dragged her from the room.

Opening the doors, he ushered the guards forward as he pushed the shocked and terrified woman towards them, ordering for her to be taken to the tower. Cian Forrester knew only one thing, he needed to get ahead of this and fix it.

As he entered the room, he was met by the sight of his tearful wife kneeling on the bed. There before her were their two children.

Twins.

“Which is our son, Catherine?”

He had already hardened his heart to his second-born. He had to. He would not allow himself to feel anything.

“There has to be a way for us to keep–”

“NO! There is not. Now tell me, Catherine. Which is our son?” His tone was biting, and he wished he could take it back, soften it, but he could not.

Lady Catherine burst into tears as she looked down upon her two newborns.

But in truth, she was in shock. As each new day dawned, bringing her closer to the arrival of her child, she considered it a gift. Each she was forever thankful for. But now, as she looked down at her two children, she sobbed harder at the painful reality.

One she would be able to keep, and the other she could not.

“CATHERINE! We do not have time for this. Lift our son, hold him to you, and I shall do what’s needed. When I come back, we shall speak no more of this. Understood?”

Sadly she did.

Wrapped tightly in her grief, Catherine Forrester, wife to the High Protector and ruler of the Winter Quartaine, gently picked up the little sleeping bundle and held it to her as she began to sob.

She bent and dropped a kiss on its little forehead and whispered into its tiny ear, “I am so sorry. I do not know you, yet I love you. I wish with all my soul that this was something I had a choice in.”

She sat the swaddled child down once more on the bed, and sobbing hard, she picked up the other. This little child was wriggling and crying, sucking on his tiny fist seeking food. With one last glance at the sleeping child below her, on a shuttered breath Lady Catherine turned her back as her husband scooped up the sleeping infant and walked with it out of the room.

How could he do this?

It was an innocent babe, but he could not risk it. It had happened once too many times to be ignored. Twins were not natural to fae; instead, they were seen as harbingers of fear, despair, and war.

It was upon the birth of twins to the High Protector of Summer two centuries past that had birthed the war between the Summer and Winter Quartaines. And before that, the bloody war between the Autumn and Summer Quartaines.

Twins heralded in war.

Should the twins be allowed to thrive, they would fulfill the prophecy, and that would never be allowed by any ruler. Cian Forrester’s father, the then ruler of the Winter Lands, had slain the twin child, a daughter of the High Protector of Summer. In doing this, the Lady of Summer cursed him as she wept over the body of her slain child. His actions caused a war to rage between the two lands that resulted in his own death and the coming to power of his only child.

Cian laughed without humor at how ironic it was that the next set of twins would be born not just in the Winter Lands but born of the High Protector.

Fate had struck him a cruel blow.

The curse of the father had befallen his son.