Lila turned two and a half in the middle of it all. We celebrated in the great hall with roasted boar and honey cakes, the pack laughing and drumming while she ran between tables demanding bites from every plate.
Thorne and Elara watched from their cradles with wide eyes, already learning the sound of their sister's laugh. I held them close that night after the fires died down, breathing in the milk-and-woodsmoke smell of their hair, and felt the stone in my gut settle heavier. They deserved a mother who finished what she started.
The kings felt it too. Darius grew quieter in the evenings, sharpening his blade longer than necessary. Kane checked the horses every morning like they might bolt if he looked away. Rylan told Lila extra stories at bedtime, voice low and steady, like he was storing up the words for the nights we would be gone. None of them tried to stop me. They knew better. The bond would not let them.
