The queen gently laid Annwyl’s arm back down, placing it carefully. “You already know there’s nothing I can do. That you can do. Nothing except one thing.”
“No.” Tears flowed freely down Morfyd’s cheeks as she stepped away from the bed and her mother. “No. I won’t do it.”
“Tell her what she told you, Northlander.”
Dagmar’s head snapped up and both Talaith and Morfyd turn to stare at her. “My liege, I—”
“This is no time for games, little girl. In fact, we are running out of time quite quickly, so you tell them. Tell them what she said to you and Bercelak when you brought her back here from the stables. Tell them what she made you promise her.”
Dagmar had never planned to say anything about what Annwyl had said, hoping it was merely the words of a scared, first-time mother. And when Bercelak had only grunted at Annwyl’s words, Dagmar had assumed he’d say nothing either. And perhaps he hadn’t. Perhaps his mate knew him so well he’d not had to say a word for her to know the truth of things.
Dagmar cleared her throat, wishing for the first time in days she was back at home with her idiot sisters-in-law and her dangerously stupid brothers.
“She … um … She told us that no matter what, you were to save the babes. Even if it meant her life, you were to save them.”
Morfyd’s head bowed at Dagmar’s words while Talaith’s gaze moved to the ceiling.
“She knows the price,” the Dragon Queen explained. “She knows and she’s made her choice. We can not ignore that.”
“But Fearghus …”
“Has to know before we start.” The queen nodded. “I will tell him.”
“No.” Morfyd wiped her face with the palms of her hands. “I’ll tell him.” She headed toward the door, but stopped long enough to tell the healers, “Prepare everything we need.”
Gwenvael looked up from his place on the floor as the door slowly creaked open and Morfyd stepped out. She kept her eyes down and immediately reached for Fearghus. She took his hand and walked him down the hall a bit, pulling him into the doorway of an unused room at the very end of the hall.
The rest of them got to their feet, pulling themselves up off the floor and watching as Morfyd placed her hand on their brother’s shoulder and stepped in close. She kept her voice low, but whatever she said, whatever she told him, had Fearghus sitting hard on the floor, the door slamming against the wall as his back fell into it. Morfyd dropped in front of him, both hands now on his shoulders as she spoke to him. He shook his head and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes.
Gwenvael immediately looked at Briec and he saw the same shock and pain in his brother’s face that he felt. Éibhear simply kept shaking his head, as if refusing to believe what he knew was truth.
But it was Izzy, Izzy who loved Annwyl as more than a favorite aunt, who burst into hysterical tears. She pushed herself away from the wall and tried to run. But Bercelak grabbed hold of her and swept her up in his arms.
“It’s all right, Izzy. It’s all right,” he whispered as he stroked her back and let her sob uncontrollably into his neck, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs around his waist.
Gwenvael looked back at Fearghus and Morfyd. His brother finally nodded to something his sister said. She kissed his forehead and stood, walking back toward them. She reached out and grasped the door handle. Before pushing it open, she said to them all, “We’ll let you know when we’re done.”
Then she slipped inside, the door closing behind her.
Fearghus sat on the castle roof, staring out over Dark Plains. He’d stayed human, knowing he’d have to go back inside at any moment. But he’d discovered this particular spot long ago that he could easily reach while human or dragon.
He sat and stared, his boot-shod feet pressed against the slats all that kept him in place.
He’d always known that any time Annwyl went off to battle, she may not return to him except on the shields of her men. They both knew it was a risk they took because they were monarchs who did not hide behind fortress walls waiting for wars to end. They fought alongside their kind. And with that choice, they risked death.
Yet this had not been their choice. They’d never sat down and discussed having children and when. Instead the gods had chosen for them, taking away any choice they had.
And because of the gods, Fearghus was going to lose his mate. The only female he would ever truly love. Even when they were thousands of leagues apart from each other, Fearghus always knew Annwyl was part of his world, part of his life.
Now he’d no longer have that comfort, that certainty.
He heard two strong cries ring out through the castle and he shut his eyes, trying so very hard not to feel resentment toward innocents who had even less choice in all of this than he and Annwyl had.
He knew he should go down to be with his twins, but he simply didn’t have the heart. The pain tore at him like knives.
As he sat, relieved when the crying eventually stopped, he felt his mother sit down next to him. He wasn’t surprised she’d tracked him down. The only other who could have was Annwyl.
“A boy and a girl,” she said. “Beautiful. Healthy.” She shrugged. “Seem human.”
“And Annwyl’s dead.”
“No. Not yet.”
Fearghus looked at his mother. “But you’re the only thing keeping her alive.”
“For as long as I can.”