Chapter 759: Chapter 760: Males always want to fight what cannot be bitten
The older woman washed her hands in warm water and checked Isabella gently. She spoke in a quiet voice as she worked, telling Isabella before every touch so she would not feel frightened.
After a while, she shook her head slightly. "The birth path is softening, but it is not open enough yet. Your body is still preparing."
Isabella looked at her. "So I’m not giving birth right now?"
"Not right this breath," the woman said. "But it may not be far."
Isabella did not know whether to feel relieved or more nervous.
She chose both.
Cyrus held her hand.
His fingers were steady, but Isabella could feel the tension underneath them. If he could take the pain himself, he would have done it without thinking. If he had to choose between her and the babies, Isabella knew from the look in his eyes that he would choose her and carry the guilt for the rest of his life.
That realization made her chest ache.
She squeezed his hand lightly. "Stop looking like that."
Cyrus blinked. "Like what?"
"Like you’re already planning to fight the birth itself."
The younger woman’s mouth twitched, but she wisely kept arranging the cloths.
Cyrus lowered his eyes. "If I could, I would."
"I know. That is the problem."
The older woman smiled faintly as she took out a small clay jar. "Males always want to fight what cannot be bitten."
Isabella looked at Cyrus. "See? Even she knows."
Cyrus did not argue because the woman was right.
Outside the room, the waiting had already become its own torture.
Kian stood nearest to the door.
He did not pace at first because Kian had too much pride to openly look restless in front of everyone. But his stillness was worse than pacing. His blue eyes stayed fixed on the door, and every sound from inside made his shoulders tighten. Zyran leaned against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, though his red eyes kept moving toward the door too often for his lazy posture to fool anyone.
Osiris paced.
Of course he paced.
He walked from one side of the corridor to the other until Zyran finally said, "If you keep doing that, I will trip you."
Osiris turned on him. "She is giving birth."
"She is preparing to give birth."
"That is almost the same."
"It is not."
"How do you know?"
"I know many things."
Osiris narrowed his eyes. "You do not look like you know births."
Zyran gave him a cold smile. "I know enough to stand still."
Shelia sat on a low wooden bench near the wall and held Ophelia’s hand because Ophelia’s worry had started to shake her fingers. Luca stood nearby and kept looking from the door to Kian and back again, as if waiting for someone to explain what was happening even though nobody knew enough to explain anything. Asael stayed close to Kian and watched the corridor, because even with Isabella possibly giving birth, the warning about an attack had not left his mind.
Inside the room, time began to move strangely.
The pains came and went.
At first they were spaced far apart. Isabella could talk between them. She could drink sweet warm water. She could complain that the bitter medicine Cyrus gave her tasted like someone boiled a tree root and a personal grudge together. She could even smile when Glimora carefully placed her chin on the edge of the fur and stared at her with round worried eyes.
But slowly, the pressure changed.
Each tightening lasted a little longer. Her lower back began to ache more deeply. The heaviness in her stomach shifted down in a way that made her feel like the babies had truly started moving toward the world whether she was ready or not.
The women kept checking her calmly.
They did not rush her.
They changed the warm cloths. They helped her change position when lying still became uncomfortable. They let her sit up with Cyrus supporting her back. They showed her how to breathe through the tightening instead of fighting it. One of them rubbed a warm oil into her lower back while the other kept checking the time between the pains by watching the water drip from a small hole in a clay cup.
Cyrus stayed close the whole time.
When the demon heat rose, his palm would press gently against her stomach or her back, and that faint red warmth would move under his skin while he pushed the unstable blood down again. He never let the women see too much. He made every movement look like comfort. But Isabella knew. She felt it each time. The heat would rise, he would calm it, and his face would grow a little paler from the effort.
She wanted to scold him for exhausting himself.
Then another pain would come, and she would decide to scold him later.
At some point, the older woman checked again.
Her face became more serious.
Cyrus noticed instantly. "What is it?"
The woman looked at Isabella first. "It is opening more now."
Isabella’s hand tightened around Cyrus’s fingers. "What does that mean?"
"It means your body is moving forward," the younger woman said softly. "You are doing well."
Doing well sounded very nice.
It also sounded like something people said before making you do something terrible.
Isabella wanted to say that, but another wave came before she could. This one was stronger than the others. It started low and then wrapped around her middle and back at the same time. Her breath caught, and for a moment she could not speak at all.
Cyrus moved behind her quickly and let her lean against his chest.
"Breathe," he murmured near her ear. "Slowly. I’m here."
Glimora rose on all fours at once and made a distressed little sound.
Isabella heard it through the pain and reached blindly with one hand. The little beast pressed her head into Isabella’s palm immediately, staying close but still careful.
The pain eased after several breaths.
Isabella sagged back against Cyrus, sweat dampening her forehead.
The older woman wiped her face with a warm cloth. "Good. That was good."
Isabella looked at her weakly. "That did not feel good."
The younger woman gave her a sympathetic smile. "It means the babies are coming closer."
Isabella closed her eyes. "They could have sent a letter instead."
Even Cyrus made a soft sound at that, though his arms stayed tight around her.
More time passed.
The room grew warmer.
The fire was fed again. More water was heated. Another bowl of broth was brought to Isabella’s lips, and Cyrus coaxed her into taking a few small mouthfuls even though she said she did not want anything. He did not force her. He only spoke softly until she gave in, because she knew he was right and that annoyed her most of all.
Then everything changed.
The next pain came harder.
Much harder.
It did not feel like the others. This one reached deep into her body and pulled a sound from her throat before she could stop it. Her fingers clamped around Cyrus’s hand, and her back arched slightly against him.
Cyrus’s whole body went rigid.
The demon heat flared at the same time.
He felt it rise around the children like a sudden red-black pulse, and for one terrifying second, his vision sharpened with fear. He pressed his palm to Isabella’s stomach and forced his power down carefully, desperately, keeping the heat from overwhelming her while the contraction rolled through her body.
The older woman moved fast.
She checked Isabella again, then looked up sharply.
Her calm face had changed.
The younger woman straightened at once. "Is it time?"
The older woman nodded.
Outside the door, Kian heard Isabella’s low cry and stepped forward at once.
Inside the room, Cyrus held Isabella tighter, his lips pressed near her temple while his heart thundered against her back.
The older woman looked at Isabella and said firmly, "Lady Isabella, listen to me. It has truly started now."
