Liv looked at him, her eyes shimmering. She wanted to ask if Jay was afraid of her now if that single word, demon, had planted doubt in his heart.
But Jay tightened his grip on her hand as if that alone was answer enough.
And within Liv's womb, something shifted slowly. Calm and alive.
The days passed without truly being felt.
Time seemed to lose its shape within Castle Zelthar no longer marked by morning and night, but by Liv's increasingly shallow breaths, by the constant coming and going of healers from her chamber, and by the anxiety that clung to every corner of the stone walls.
Yet Liv was no longer alone.
Marchioness Albertch almost never left her side. Every morning, the woman sat beside the bed, brushing Liv's hair with the same gentle motions she had used when Liv was still a child movements born of habit, as though time itself had never pulled them apart.
