Vera’s POV
The corridor roared like a storm breaking underground, and I heard it between contractions.
The clash of boots against stone, shouted commands splintering into panic, the ring of steel drawn too close to sacred space. The palace was tearing itself open in layers, each sound a reminder that the coup was no longer theory or timetable.
It was happening now, measured not in hours, but in heartbeats.
Another contraction surged through me, violent and purposeful, dragging a cry from my throat as my body arched against Lucien’s hold. Pain ripped through me with brutal clarity, and with it came the familiar surge of power, bright and dangerous.
The room bowed.
I felt it—the subtle yielding of wills, the involuntary dip of knees, the way breath caught in the throats of those nearby as the bond network flared in response to my pain.
No, I thought fiercely, clinging to consciousness. Do not let this become a command.
I fought it, forcing the power inward, anchoring it in breath and muscle rather than will. My hands clenched in Lucien’s sleeve, grounding myself in him, in the steady rhythm of his heart that echoed through the bond like a lifeline.
“You’re doing it,” he said close to my ear, his voice strained but unwavering. “You’re holding it back. Stay with me.”
Another crash echoed from the corridor, closer now. A guard shouted, followed by a scream cut abruptly short.
Celene moved to the door, blood-law shimmering faintly around her hands. “They’re forcing their way through the outer ward,” she said grimly. “I can delay them, but not indefinitely.”
“You don’t need to stop them forever,” I said between breaths. “Just long enough for her to arrive on her own terms.”
The healers worked frantically, their fear a constant pressure at the edge of my senses. I could feel how close they were to losing control, how easily a single command from me would snap them into obedience sharp enough to be useful.
I did not give it.
Instead, I focused on Lucien’s presence, the way his pain mirrored mine through the Anchor, the way he took it without complaint or resistance. He was holding me upright through force of will alone, his body trembling with the effort of channeling stability into me while absorbing the backlash.
“You don’t get to fall,” I whispered to him as another wave crested. “Not now.”
A humorless breath escaped him. “I had no intention of trying.”
The doors burst inward with a crack of splintering wood and shattered wards.
Darius entered the chamber as if summoned by the violence, his presence cutting through the chaos with terrifying confidence. Blood stained his sleeve—not his own—and his eyes burned with something like triumph as they locked onto me.
“This is far enough,” he declared, his voice carrying effortlessly over the din. “The child will be bound.”
Lucien shifted instantly, placing himself fully between Darius and me, his stance wide and immovable despite the pain ripping through him. “You will not cross this floor.”
Darius smiled thinly. “You misunderstand your position. This is no longer a matter of consent.”
He stepped closer, ignoring Lucien’s warning, his gaze never leaving my belly. Another contraction slammed into me, stealing my breath and sending a pulse of power surging outward.
Several guards in the doorway dropped to one knee involuntarily, hands braced against the stone as if gravity itself had doubled.
I gasped, fury cutting through the pain. “Get away from me.”
Darius’s attention flicked to my face, then softened into something dangerously indulgent. “You’re exhausted,” he said gently. “You’re burning yourself alive trying to hold what was never meant to be carried alone.”
He drew a ritual blade from his coat, its edge etched with sigils that made my skin crawl. The magic clinging to it was old and invasive, designed to bind, to claim, to overwrite resistance with ceremony.
“This child responds to my blood,” he continued. “The realm already feels it. Let me complete what has begun.”
Lucien’s voice cut in, low and lethal. “You will lower that blade.”
Darius laughed softly. “Or what? You’ll bleed a little more?”
The bond tightened abruptly, the counter-anchor technique flaring as he locked himself deeper into the network, reinforcing the barrier between Darius and me. I felt it like a brace snapping into place around my spine, my will shored up by his without being overridden.
“Vera,” Lucien said, his voice steady despite the agony etched into every line of him. “Stay here. Don’t look at him. Breathe with me.”
I tried. Another contraction tore through me, harder than any before, and I screamed, the sound raw and unfiltered.
The room responded, bodies bowing as one under the surge of power that ripped through the bond network.
No, no—
I clawed at consciousness, fighting the instinct to let domination take over. Lucien’s arms tightened around me, his presence a solid wall against the tide.
“You’re not alone,” he said fiercely. “I’ve got you.”
Darius stepped forward again, undeterred, blade raised. “You can’t shield her forever,” he said. “Pain weakens resolve.”
Lucien met his gaze without flinching. “You mistake pain for surrender.”
Darius’s smile sharpened. “Then watch what happens when she breaks.”
He lunged. Lucien moved faster.
He intercepted Darius mid-step, slamming into him with enough force to stagger them both. The ritual blade clattered across the floor, skidding to a halt inches from my reach.
The bond network howled.
Guards shouted. Steel rang. Celene’s blood-law flared bright as she threw herself into the fray, forcing back those trying to push into the room.
I screamed again, not from fear this time, but from effort as my body bore down with terrifying force. The pressure was unbearable, my vision blurring as Avrora surged forward with relentless determination.
“She’s coming,” a healer cried. “Now!”
Lucien dragged Darius back another step, his voice breaking with strain. “You will not touch her.”
Darius wrenched free, fury blazing. “She is my blood!”
Before Lucien could respond, a new presence filled the doorway.
Aldric entered the chamber with measured steps, chaos parting around him as though he commanded it by right. He took in the scene with cool satisfaction—blood on the floor, guards kneeling, power flaring unchecked.
“Well,” he said mildly, smiling, “this is exactly as predicted.”
“Get out,” I rasped, summoning what little strength I had left.
Aldric ignored me, his gaze fixed on my belly with unsettling intensity. “You see?” he said to the room. “This is why authority must be reclaimed.”
Lucien turned on him, rage incandescent. “You will not—”
Aldric raised a hand, silencing him without magic or shout. “Enough.”
He looked at Darius, then back at me, his smile widening.
“Seize the child,” he ordered calmly. “The moment she is born.”