The room was suffused with a faint glow from the low-burning lanterns, their light flickering unevenly against the stone walls. Misery lay propped up on a bed of thin linens, her face pale, her breaths shallow. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead, and her hair was damp, plastered to her clammy skin. She clutched the newborn close, the baby’s fragile weight seeming too much for her trembling arms, yet she refused to loosen her hold.
The nurses moved quietly around the room, their hushed whispers filled with tension. One stepped forward, her face drawn with worry. She hesitated before speaking, glancing first at Misery and then at Adrian, who stood at her side like a sentinel.
“She needs rest, my lord,” the nurse said, her voice low but firm. “Her body is too weak after the birth. If she exerts herself—” She stopped, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Adrian’s gaze flicked to Misery, his crimson eyes sharp but shadowed with concern. “How long?” he asked, his voice clipped, his jaw taut.
The nurse wrung her hands. “It’s hard to say. Days, perhaps weeks—if she avoids any strain. But the slightest stress could—”
“No,” Misery interrupted, her voice rasping but urgent. Her fingers tightened protectively around the swaddled infant. “He’s going to take her, Adrian. No matter what he promised, the King will find a way.”
Adrian dropped to one knee beside the bed, his hand settling over hers. Her grip on the baby was unyielding, her knuckles white. “Not yet,” he said, his tone low and steady, a contrast to the tension in the room. “He won’t take her yet. I’ll find a way.”
Misery’s silver eyes glistened, her tears threatening to spill over. “She’s all I have left, Adrian. I can’t lose her too. Not after everything.” Her voice cracked, the words heavy with raw desperation.
Adrian leaned closer, his grip tightening. “You won’t lose her,” he said, his voice like steel. “Even if I have to defy the King himself, you won’t lose her.”
Misery’s lips trembled, but she looked at him with unwavering focus. “I don’t know how much time I have,” she whispered. “If I die, she’ll have no one.”
“You’re not dying,” Adrian said sharply, though his tone softened as he took in the hollow exhaustion etched into her face. “You’re not dying, Misery. But if the worst happens, I’ll make sure she’s safe. She’ll always have someone.”
The baby stirred in Misery’s arms, her tiny fingers poking through the edge of the blanket. Misery’s gaze shifted to her daughter, her fear giving way to a fierce determination. She pulled the child closer, her voice a strained but resolute whisper. “Promise me, Adrian. Promise me you’ll protect her, no matter what.”
Adrian leaned in, his crimson eyes meeting hers. “I promise.”
The nurse approached cautiously, her hands outstretched. “She needs care too, my lady. Let us take her for a moment.”
Misery hesitated, her arms trembling as she held the baby tighter. For a moment, it seemed she might refuse, but her strength gave way. Reluctantly, she allowed the nurse to lift the baby from her arms. Misery’s gaze remained fixed on her child, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths as she sagged back against the pillows.
Adrian straightened, his eyes following the nurse as she carried the baby to a nearby crib. His mind churned with plans, calculations, and possibilities, each more desperate than the last. He glanced back at Misery, whose eyelids fluttered closed, her body succumbing to exhaustion.
“Rest,” Adrian said softly, his voice devoid of its usual edge. “I’ll keep watch. Nothing will harm her.”