Chapter 774: Chapter 775: Protect the king!
The older woman looked at Isabella’s stomach again and spoke with a voice that was calm only because she had forced it to be calm.
"The next pain is coming."
Isabella closed her eyes.
Outside, the battle roared.
Inside, the two newborn boys cried in their warm wraps.
Glimora stood beside the bed with her fur glowing faintly and her worried eyes fixed on Isabella.
Cyrus held Isabella from behind, his blood on her lips, his arms around her body, and his heart beating so hard it felt like it might break.
Isabella took a shaking breath and prayed with what little strength she had left.
This better be a girl this time around.
Because the boys had been hell.
The moment the pain came, Isabella realized that this one truly felt different.
It was still painful. Of course it was painful. At this point, her whole body had been dragged through pain for so long that she almost forgot what it felt like to exist without it. But this pain did not feel as heavy as the others. It was sharp and deep, but there was a strange smoothness to it now, as if her body had already learned the path after the first two babies and was finally willing to cooperate a little.
That did not mean it was easy.
It only meant Isabella was no longer convinced the baby was trying to fight her personally from inside.
She grabbed Cyrus’s arm again and cried out through clenched teeth. "What the freaking hell. Why is this still happening? I already gave birth twice."
Cyrus’s arms tightened around her. His face was pressed close to the side of her head, and his red hair stuck slightly to his cheek from sweat because he had been holding her for hours without rest. "You are almost done."
"You said that before."
"I did."
"You all keep saying that."
The older woman wiped the sweat off Isabella’s forehead. "This time, it is true. The child is lower now. Your body is ready."
Isabella opened one eye weakly. "If you are lying to me, I will haunt you."
The younger woman almost smiled, but her hands kept moving as she arranged clean cloths. "I believe you."
Cyrus lowered his head and kissed Isabella’s damp temple. "Breathe first. Then push when the pain comes fully."
Isabella wanted to tell him she was tired of breathing, pushing, suffering, and being told what to do by people who were not the ones giving birth. But another wave had already taken her, and all she could do was grab him harder and bear down with everything she had left.
Her scream filled the room again.
This time, she heard both babies cry in response, as if they were answering her. The sound almost broke her heart. They were alive. They were here. They were hers. And there was still one more child inside her, trying to come into a world that was burning around them.
Glimora whimpered.
The little white beast’s bond mark glowed brighter beneath her fur. Her paws pressed into the thick bedding, and her body trembled like she was fighting something no one else could see. She could feel Isabella’s pain in a small strange way, and because she was still young, she did not know how to separate Isabella’s suffering from her own fear. Her fur kept rising along her spine. Her eyes glowed pale, then dimmed, then glowed again.
Cyrus noticed, but he could not move away from Isabella.
"Glimora," Isabella gasped when the wave eased a little, her voice shaking. "Stay calm. Mama is fine."
Glimora’s ears lifted at the word mama.
Then the little beast stepped closer and pressed her head gently against Isabella’s shaking hand.
Isabella’s fingers weakly touched her fur. "Good girl."
Cyrus watched this through the fear clawing at his chest, and for one second, he almost felt like the room itself was holding its breath with them. The two babies cried softly nearby. The women moved around Isabella with practiced hands. The fire kept burning. Outside, the battle kept getting closer.
And Isabella was still pushing.
Far outside the palace, the battlefield had become a mess of snow, blood, fire, claws, and bodies.
Kian was still fighting.
But he was weaker now.
Much weaker.
The black stone poison had entered his blood, and each breath he took felt heavier than the last. His huge white lion body was stained red in several places. The wound at his stomach kept bleeding because the poison stopped it from closing properly, and the cut on his shoulder burned so coldly that it felt like ice had been driven into his flesh. Every step he took pressed pain through his body, but he could not stop.
He could not.
Behind him was the palace.
Inside the palace was Isabella.
Inside Isabella’s room were the cries of newborn children.
He had heard the second baby cry. The sound had reached him faintly through the wind, and for one moment, his legs had almost given out from relief. But the enemies had used that moment to press harder.
They were trying to break through again.
They knew the palace mattered. They knew something inside it was important. They had come for Isabella, and now that the birth was happening, they were throwing everything they had at the village.
Kian tore through another attacker with his claws, but the movement made the wound in his stomach pull open again. Blood poured hot down his white fur, and he staggered half a step.
Asael rushed to his side, weapon raised. "Protect the king!"
Several guards immediately moved closer, forming a rough half circle around him. Their faces were pale, and some had wounds of their own, but none of them stepped back. Kian saw them trying to cover him and felt a flash of rage.
They should be protecting the village.
They should be stopping the enemies.
They should not be wasting strength protecting him.
