[Seraphine’s POV]
“Elowen,” her name breaking apart in my mouth, jagged and sharp. “Give me my child.”
Her arms tightened around the bundle. The tiny shape inside shifted, a soft whimper muffled by cloth. My knees weakened.
“No,” she said gently. Terrifyingly gently. “I can’t.”
“You can,” I snapped, stepping forward. “You will. Give the baby to me.”
She stepped back. “Seraphine, please. Don’t make this harder.”
“Harder?” My voice cracked with something close to rage. “You stole my children. You lied to me. You helped them take everything. How could you—”
“I saved them,” she interrupted, her voice trembling but firm. “I saved them from him.”
Aldric. The word she wouldn’t speak, the name she hated.
“You think giving them to Blackharrow is saving them?” I demanded. “They are infants. They need me, not a fortress. Not soldiers or your schemes.”
Elowen shook her head slowly, with her braid falling over one shoulder. “You’re blinded by motherhood. He’ll use them, Sera. He’ll twist them into weapons, heirs of conquest. Just like he twisted you.”
I felt the insult hit, but fury drowned it quickly. “I made that choice. They never had one. You ripped it from them.”
She swallowed hard. “Blackharrow swore he’d keep them safe and they’d be raised without crowns and bloodshed. Swore justice would be served for what Aldric did to my family.”
Ah, there it was. The truth finally laid bare.
“What justice?” I whispered.
Elowen’s fingers flexed against the infant’s back. “He burned my village, Seraphine. Not in battle but as punishment. My mother, my brothers— everyone is gone. I swore I’d make him bleed for it one day.”
My breath left me. “So, you used me.”
Her eyes glistened. “I loved you, Seraphine. That was real. You were the only good thing in my life after that night. But revenge…” Her voice splintered. “Revenge doesn’t let go.”
My throat tightened. For a beat, I saw the girl who held my hair during sickness and whispered songs when I couldn’t sleep. A girl who kissed my forehead after nightmares.
“I trusted you, but you chose to betray it,” I whispered. “I believed you’d helped me keep them safe, but you proved me wrong.”
“I delivered them into safety.”
Her eyes flickered. She hesitated—and that was all it took for something inside me to snap.
“No,“ I said, stepping toward her, voice shaking with fury. “Give me. My baby.”
She backed away again, hand tightening around the little head wrapped in blue-threaded cloth. “You don’t understand—”
“I understand everything,” I breathed. “I understand you betrayed my trust. I understand you handed my children to a man you barely know. I understand you thought your pain gave you the right to take mine.”
Her face twisted. “Seraphine, don’t—”
I lunged. She cried out and spun away, clutching the child to her chest. My fingers brushed the cloak around the tiny body—just brushed—and then Elowen shoved me back, harder than I expected.
I slammed into the wall, my shoulder screaming with pain.
“You’re not thinking,” she panted. “You’re—”
Before she could say anything, I lunched at her. She twisted, with nails digging into my wrist, and the baby whimpered at the sudden movement.
“Careful!” she snapped.
“Then let go!” I cried.
Her heel slammed against my shin. Pain flared, but I didn’t stop. I grabbed her sleeve and yanked with everything left in me.
“Seraphine!” Rowan’s voice rang out from the corridor.
Elowen turned toward the sound—and made her first mistake. I pushed her. Hard. She stumbled backward—but she didn’t fall. Not yet. She clutched the infant, turning her body to shield the child, and reached for the wall—
Rowan burst around the corner, eyes blazing. “Move!”
Elowen spun toward him, panic in her gaze, but Rowan didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her away from me.
It wasn’t elegant or controlled. It was desperate and raw—a reaction born from fear, fury, and instinct.
Elowen hit the stone wall with a sharp crack. Her head snapped back, her body crumpling. The baby cried out, a thin, broken sound, but Rowan was already there, catching the swaddled bundle before it slipped from her arms.
“Elowen!” I gasped—but she didn’t answer. She slumped to the ground, motionless. Unconscious.
Rowan pressed the baby into my arms, and my breath broke. Warm and soft. So small. The familiar scent, the weight I’d memorized the moment they were born.
“My baby,” I sobbed, clutching the tiny body to my chest. “My sweet one, I’m here—I’m here—”
Rowan’s hand caught my shoulder. “Seraphine—we need to move. Now. That sound—”
He didn’t have to finish. The thud of boots echoed down the corridor and shouts erupted on the level above. A horn blared twice—an alarm cry.
“Elowen’s fall,” Rowan said. “It alerted them. We have to go. King Aldric will meet us—”
“The other one,” I whispered.
Rowan froze. “What?”
I looked frantically around the room—straw beds, blankets, a basin, piles of cloth.
“He’s not here,” I said, voice rising. “My other baby—Rowan—where is he?”
He spun, scanning the shadows. “Maybe in another room—”
“No!” I screamed, panic ripping through me like lightning. “No, he should be here—Elowen said babies—plural—she should have both—why does she only—”
Boots pounded closer, and torches flared outside the doorway. But none of it mattered. I clutched the tiny body in my arms, tears burning hot trails down my cheeks.
“I don’t see him,” Rowan said, voice taut. “Seraphine—we have one— but where—”
“Where is my other baby?!” I screamed. The fortress answered with the sound of approaching soldiers, closing in fast.