The sun stood high above the castle walls, its scorching rays pouring into the outer courtyard.
Heat shimmered faintly in the air as servants moved back and forth with careful urgency.
Jazell's belongings had already been arranged inside the carriage: the chestbox was secured, folded gowns were packed away, and small boxes were tucked into corners so they would not rattle during the journey.
The maids handled everything with quiet efficiency, occasionally glancing toward her as if awaiting further instructions.
But Jazell said nothing.
She stood a short distance away, hands folded loosely before her, her gaze following each movement with calm scrutiny.
It was then that Linn approached.
She came quietly, stepping close enough that no wandering ear could hear. Leaning toward Jazell, she whispered a few brief words.
With an approving nod, Jazell said,
"A baby girl, you say?"
She mused softly, her hand drifting to rest upon her protruding stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric of her gown.
Linn gave a small nod in confirmation. She had just informed Jazell of Queen Racheal's safe delivery.
"Very well then."
Jazell inhaled profoundly before turning slightly toward her maid, her voice low.
"Whenever you have a letter written to me, add the dead flower of a lily. I shall know it is you."
Her eyes lingered on Linn.
"Do not have it written in your name."
The order was given with meticulous care.
Linn inclined her head, offering a quiet nod of agreement.
Jazell knew well enough that the girl was displeased with her, perhaps even resentful. But that mattered little. In matters like this, loyalty was often outweighed by necessity.
And there was far more to gain than to lose.
Soon enough, the carriage doors were secured, and the driver snapped the reins.
The horses began to move, wheels groaning softly as the carriage rolled across the courtyard stones and toward the castle gates.
Linn remained where she stood.
She watched as the carriage slowly disappeared down the road, growing smaller with every passing moment.
Yet not a single reaction touched her face.
Only composure.
Just as her mistress had taught her.
Racheal remained on her bed, her eyes never leaving the baby who was in the bosom of her grandmother.
When she saw the affection Selena had for her child, she already knew she had won her heart.
Frankly speaking, Selena has never accepted Amilek as part of the family; as hurtful as it sounded, she had to come to understand that no matter how much she tried, he would always be referred to as an outcast.
When Amilek found out his mother had delivered successfully, he took his leave quietly, not saying a word.
He disappeared without notice.
Micah has a maid deliver the news to Ragaleon. The maid returned with a request from him, demanding to see his daughter.
Micah commanded the maid to make it known to Racheal, and the maid did so without wasting time.
When Racheal came to know of this, she demanded that her baby be given to her.
The maid who was stationed to take care of the child handed over the baby to Racheal, and to her utmost bewilderment, she saw Racheal climb down from the bed.
"My lady, you should not be standing yet."
"The king demanded to see his daughter."
Her voice was dry, stripped of warmth. Her green eyes looked past the maid as if the protest meant nothing.
The maid hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but then she had already begun to move.
Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, and she nearly faltered. The exhaustion of childbirth still clung to her bones, but she steadied herself against the bedpost. The gown she still wore was wrinkled and stained, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her skin.
Slowly, she dragged her feet toward the door.
She wanted to see it for herself.
Not hear it from servants.
Not imagine it in the silence of her chambers.
She wanted to see his face when he looked at their child.
To know if there was still even a fragment of love left for her in his heart.
She had just borne him a daughter.
Surely… that had to mean something.
That thought pushed her forward.
At first her steps dragged across the stone floor, her body heavy and sore, every movement reminding her that she should still be in bed.
But the closer she came to his chambers, the more stubborn her steps became.
When she arrived before the chamber, she pushed the door open with one hand.
Her chin lifted, her back straightening as the heavy door slowly gave way.
The first step she took into the room echoed, quietly announcing her arrival.
Both heads turned.
The first person who caught her attention was Micah, seated beside Ragaleon like she belonged there.
For a moment Racheal felt the familiar sting rise in her chest.
But she swallowed it.
Her gaze moved past Micah as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture and settled on the King's instead.
"You should be in bed."
Micah spoke first, rising quickly to her feet. The surprise on her face was obvious, her eyes moving from Racheal's pale face to the child in her arms.
She looked genuinely baffled.
"And yet I chose not to."
Racheal's voice was dry, almost tired.
Her attention remained fixed on Ragaleon as she took another slow step forward, the baby held carefully against her chest.
Ragaleon looked at Racheal for a moment.
It did not take much for him to understand what had brought her here. He knew her well enough to recognize the stubborn resolve written all over her face.
"Why have you decided to strain yourself?"
His voice was blunt, almost irritated.
Racheal did not waver.
"The same reason I have decided to come here," she replied evenly.
"To fulfill your request to see your daughter, my lord."
She sounded formal; something was wrong.
He felt it immediately.
The detachment in her voice. The careful way she spoke to him now, as if there were a wall standing between them.
Beneath that composure was something else, something wounded and aching.
He looked at her for another moment before speaking again.
"Draw nearer."
Racheal stepped forward without argument.
Carefully, she placed the baby into his waiting hands. The small child shifted slightly but did not cry, her tiny form disappearing almost completely in his grasp.
The moment the child was settled, Racheal stepped back.
Not far, but far enough.
Her hands slowly folded in front of her, though the tension in her fingers betrayed the calm she tried to maintain.
Her green eyes never left Ragaleon's face.
She watched him closely, almost anxiously, studying every movement, every change in his expression.
Waiting.
Ready to capture the smallest reaction.
A small smile touched Leon's lips as he gazed down at the child.
She was so small in his hands that she almost seemed to disappear within them, her tiny fingers barely curling against his thumb.
The tension in the room softened.
"What a fine day to give me such great joy, Racheal."
His voice was quieter now, touched with something close to wonder.
Then his gaze shifted away from the child and moved toward Micah. His questioning eyes seeking her approval,
"The baby is well formed," Micah began. "No complications. The gods granted you a safe delivery."
Her tone was calm, as if she were reciting an observation rather than sharing in the moment.
Racheal heard the words, but they barely registered.
Her attention remained fixed on Ragaleon.
On the faint smile on his lips, as in the way he held their daughter.
On every small expression that crossed his face.
Because that was what she had come for.
To see this.
To know, even if only for a moment, that the child she had nearly broken her body to bring into the world meant something to him.
"What shall you name the child, my lord?"
Racheal asked quietly.
As she spoke, she stepped forward and gently lifted the baby from his bosom, careful not to wake the small girl. The child stirred slightly as she was moved, her tiny body settling back against Racheal's chest.
Racheal immediately pulled away again.
"She is your daughter also."
He reminded her calmly.
For a moment, the room fell silent. Micah watched absentmindedly as Racheal unconsciously began rocking the baby in her arms, a slow, instinctive motion meant to soothe the child, but perhaps herself as well.
Up close now, the exhaustion on her face was impossible to ignore. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and the strength that had carried her here was beginning to wear thin.
Childbirth had taken its toll.
Her eyes lowered briefly to the tiny face in her arms before she finally spoke.
"I shall name her Delilah."
When he heard her name the child, he nodded courteously.
"Go to the throne room and await my arrival."
He said it so calmly that for a moment the words did not make sense.
Micah stared at him.
"Your arrival?" she repeated sternly.
He paid her no heed.
Right before her very eyes, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat upright. The movement was slow, deliberate—like a man testing the strength of a body that had only recently betrayed him.
Racheal was marveling. She took a step backward, almost struck by disbelief.
The king who, only moments ago, could scarcely lift his head from the pillow… was now rising.
He pushed himself to his feet.
For a brief second his hand rested on the edge of the bed, fingers tightening against the carved wood. A shadow of pain crossed his face, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
Gamina, who had been silently watching beside the bed, stepped forward in alarm.
"My lord, you should not—"
He lifted a hand.
One simple gesture, yet it silenced her completely.
"I am well enough," he said.
But the room could hear the strain in his voice.
Racheal's eyes narrowed slightly. She studied him carefully—the rigid set of his shoulders, the faint stiffness in his movements.
He was forcing himself.
Forcing his body to obey sheer will.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the child in her arms.
The baby stirred softly, unaware that the entire room had fallen into a stunned silence.
Then Racheal looked back at him.
"You would walk to the throne room," she said slowly, "in this state?"
Then the door to the room opened and a maid stepped in.
"Everything is in place, my lord."
She bowed slightly.
Racheal stood there, utterly at a loss as to what was happening. Nothing about the morning had prepared her for this.
Her eyes drifted to Micah.
From the stiff confusion on the woman's face, it was clear she was just as clueless.
Without offering them any explanation,
Ragaleon walked past them. His steps were slow, but he refused to allow weakness to show.
Naturally, they followed.
The corridor seemed longer than usual, the silence heavy with unspoken questions.
Racheal held the baby closer to her chest as they walked.
Soon they arrived before the throne room.
The large double doors opened with a deep groan, revealing the vast chamber beyond, its towering pillars stretching toward the ceiling like ancient sentinels guarding the crown.
Inside, a crowd had already gathered.
Servants stood in careful rows. The entire household was present, along with several members of the royal family. The murmurs that had filled the chamber faded the moment Ragaleon stepped inside.
"Bring her forward."
He said this when he turned and noticed Racheal lingering slightly behind.
She stepped forward without hesitation.
Gently, she handed the baby to him.
The child barely stirred as he lifted her into his arms.
Ragaleon turned to face the hall.
"Behold…"
His voice rang through the chamber, strong, enthusiastic, and unmistakably royal.
"The first seed of your king… Princess Delilah."
At that exact moment, Micah entered the throne room.
And what she saw made her stop cold.
Every single person in the hall lowered their heads at once.
Perfect synchrony: servants, nobles, even members of the royal household.
Not one person remained standing upright.
And it was not to the king.
It was the baby in his arms.
Racheal, whose eyes were still sunken from exhaustion, bore witness to it all.
Slowly, she looked around the chamber.
Row after row.
Head after head.
All bowed in silent acknowledgment.
Not to her.
Not even to Ragaleon.
But to the child in his hands.
Princess Delilah.