Page 113 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
But they could not see it.
‘It’s what’s best for the baby,’ the creature said, its voice thick with false tenderness. ‘It could be like us.’
Another contraction ravaged Mal’s body and she twisted upon the sheets, a scream tearing from her throat, wild and broken.
The creature had edged closer.
Mal saw it. Saw the way it hovered nearer to the bed, to her and to the life struggling to enter the world. Her purple eyes widened in naked terror. What if it laid its claws upon her child? What if she, who had survived gods and monsters, could not protect her own daughter?
She could not stay.
If she remained here, the moment her baby drew her first breath, that thing might snatch her away. And Mal would not gamble with her child’s life. Not for comfort. Not for love. Not even for Ash.
She stared at him, silently begging him to understand. To see through her eyes what stalked the shadows. To forgive her, one day, for stealing this moment from him, for denying him the sight of his daughter’s birth, for not letting him be the first to cradle her fragile body.
As she began to let herself unravel, her form thinning into shadow, she felt the instant he understood.
His grip tightened around her hand, desperate, as though he might anchor her to the earth by sheer force of love.
‘Mal, please,no.’ His voice cracked, and something inside her shattered beyond repair.
She glanced back towards the creature. Its face twisted in fury, teeth bared as it realised what she meant to do. It lunged.
But Mal was already dissolving into darkness.
And then she was gone.
She landed within her shadow realm upon a bed woven of smoke and murmuring darkness. The air itself seemed to cradle her, cool and yielding, as though the realm recognised its queen’s suffering.
Her cries must have echoed across the void, for Vera and Allegra appeared within heartbeats, rising from the gloom like twin phantoms. Their purple eyes were wide, stricken with alarm.
‘The baby,’ Mal breathed. Her voice trembled, yet it no longer fractured the way it had in the mortal world. The pain here was different. Softer, almost bearable. More natural. In this realm she was sovereign. Grief could not devour her whole. Fear did not quite reach her.
Vera and Allegra moved with quiet urgency, guiding her through the labour, murmuring reassurances in low, steady tones. Their hands were cool as dusk against her fevered skin. And when at last a cry pierced the shadows—a thin, fragile sound that trembled like the first crack of dawn—Mal exhaled in relief.
Allegra cradled the newborn.
The child was formed of shadow and whisper, not entirely solid, as though sculpted from a dream half-remembered. Abeing of smoke and night, delicate yet ancient. Some might question the wisdom of birthing a child in a realm of shadows, but Mal did not doubt. Her daughter would endure.
She was made of nightmares and shadows.
Just like her mother.
Allegra stepped forward to place the baby in Mal’s arms, but Mal shook her head and forced herself upright, already gathering her strength to leave.
Vera hurried to her side, pressing a steady hand to her shoulder and urging her back onto the bed of smoke. ‘You must rest. You have just given birth.’
‘I must go,’ Mal insisted.
‘Do you not wish to hold her?’ Allegra asked quietly, something fragile threading through her voice, something Mal refused to name.
Mal did not look at the child.
If she did, she feared she would never find the resolve to leave.
‘You must both care for her for now,’ she said, her hand brushing Vera’s arm in fleeting gratitude. Then she stood fully, drawing herself together.
She cast them one final glance.
