Timothy's POV
The hallway outside the royal birthing chamber was silent, save for the heavy, rhythmic breathing of three of the deadliest men in the Five Kingdoms.
I adjusted my grip on the hilt of my broadsword for the hundredth time. My knuckles were white. Beside me, Wade was sharpening a dagger that was already razor-sharp, the *shhhk-shhhk* sound echoing off the stone walls like a ticking clock. Samuel stood by the far window, his crossbow loaded and aimed at the empty courtyard below, as if he expected an army of assassins to drop from the sky at any moment.
We were at war. Or at least, it felt like it.
But there was no enemy. There were no rebels, no foreign invaders, no monsters trying to breach the gates. The enemy was nature itself, unfolding behind the heavy oak doors.
"She screamed again," Wade muttered, pausing his sharpening. His face was pale, devoid of its usual arrogant smirk. "Should we go in? Maybe the healer needs... leverage?"
