“Tell me if you are uncomfortable,” Barnabas says, using his knuckles to gently brush away the sweat beading on your forehead. “I will take care of it.” And by that, he would execute the maids who were not serving you correctly and bring in new ones.

None could anticipate that after decades of being the only king, Barnabas would eventually create an heir, least of all him. Your pregnancy had come quick and without warning, and the darkened corridors of the Waloed Castle had finally brightened, if even for just a little, to accommodate you and ensure your delivery was safe.

In truth, he’d believed such functions were lost to him when he relinquished his existence to Ultima. However, the child forming in your womb destined to be borne in a few days time was proof that he was wrong. Barnabas shifts his hand to your stomach, feeling the sure but steady warmth swimming underneath. “It will not be long now,” he murmurs.