169. Echo

169. Echo
Nicholaus is still holding me when the last tremor of hunger fades. When I pull back slowly, his breath shudders.
“You’re alright,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “You’re okay now.”
I nod, though my body still feels like it’s been scraped raw and rebuilt in the dark. My senses sharpen with each breath and every flicker of flame along the wall, every line etched into the stone, every heartbeat outside the chamber...It's all too loud, too close. Nicholaus notices instantly.
“Come,” he whispers. “Let me make this easier.”
Before I can ask what he means, he rises and gathers me into his arms, lifting me the way someone lifts something sacred. My legs curl instinctively toward him. The scent of his skin pulls a small exhale from my chest. He moves straight to the adjoining bathing room where steam curls faintly above the edge of the marble tub. He must have ordered it prepared minutes before I woke — it’s full, warm, perfumed lightly with something floral and grounding.
“Here,” he murmurs, as he lowers me to sit on the edge. “This will help settle the noise in your senses.”
He kneels in front of me, both of his hands steady on my knees.
“And after your bath,” he says carefully, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek, “I’m calling the healers. We need them to check you and the baby.”
He watches my reaction closely, ready to shift, ready to soften if I show any signs of fear.
“You and our child went through… too much last night,” he continues quietly. “I need to know you’re both safe. I need to hear it.”
I rest my hand on his jaw, the new strength in my fingers startling both of us. “Alright,” I whisper. “Call them.”
Relief flickers through him like a quiet exhale. He rises again and helps undress me as though I am made of porcelain — not fragile, but precious. His fingers brush my shoulder, my waist, the place where the blade ended my old life, and every touch feels like worship.

When I step into the bath, the water wraps around me like warmth made real. It quiets the echo of too many sounds, too many scents, too many new instincts clawing at the edges of my skull. Nicholaus kneels beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves before dipping his hands into the water to pour warmth across my shoulders.
“I’m here, my love,” he murmurs. “I'll take care of you.”
My head falls back slightly, eyes half-closing as the water calms the trembling still working through my limbs. His fingers gently comb through my hair, lifting it away from my face.
“You died,” he whispers, not breaking the steadiness in his voice, just giving the truth a place to sit between us. “And you came back stronger. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how a heart can break and heal in the same night.”
I open my eyes and look at him, really look. His face is tired in a way I’ve never seen. Not worn or aged, just stretched thin by terror and relief and love all tangled together.
“You caught me,” I say softly.
His hand pauses at the edge of the water before he leans down and presses a kiss to my damp forehead. “Always,” he murmurs against my skin.
The silence lingers gently, and the water ripples around me as he pours another handful over my shoulders. After several long moments, when my breath evens and my senses stop clawing at every corner of the room, Nicholaus stands and offers me his hands.
“Let’s get you dry,” he says softly. “The healers are waiting.”
He wraps me in a thick, warm towel, lifting me from the tub as though I weigh nothing at all. When he carries me back into the bedchamber and sets me carefully on the bed, my senses flare again — sharper now that the steam is gone, the world too much.
He must see it, or feel it in the bond, because he moves closer, his hands settling on either side of my arms. “Focus on me,” he murmurs. “Nothing else. Just me.”
I inhale slowly, letting his scent drown the others out as a knock sounds softly at the door.
Nicholaus’s voice remains gentle. “Enter.”
Three healers step in quietly — two vampires and one human woman carrying a wooden case. All bow immediately.
“My King. My Queen.”
Nicholaus sits beside me, his hand slipping into mine. “She’s newly awakened. Her senses are still adjusting. Be slow and very gentle.”
They nod, stepping forward with cautious movements. The oldest healer kneels first, placing a small cloth-wrapped bundle on the bedside table. When he unwraps it, I see instruments carved of bone and polished wood.
He speaks softly. “We begin with pulse timing.”
Nicholaus shifts closer, lowering himself until his ear nearly touches my abdomen. His hand rests over my stomach, warm and protective. I hear it too, a faint, fluttering heartbeat, delicate but sure, like wings brushing silk. The healer turns over a sand timer.
“Count.”
Nicholaus whispers the beats under his breath. I match them silently. When the final grain falls, the healer straightens, a rare smile forming.
“Strong and stable. Your child is thriving.”
Warmth loosens something in my chest. Nicholaus presses a trembling kiss to my temple.
A second healer — the human woman with the wooden horn — steps forward. “May I listen more closely, my Queen?”
I nod. The horn touches my skin, cool and smooth, and her eyes soften.
“Yes,” she whispers. “This child is well.”
Nicholaus closes his eyes, a quiet breath shaking through him. The third healer pricks my finger with a needle, evaluating the drop of blood that emerges. It glimmers faintly silver.
“The transformation is stable,” he murmurs. “Both elemental and vampiric traits have integrated fully.” His gaze lifts to mine. “But your child feeds quickly. Much faster than expected. You will need to replenish yourself often.”
Nicholaus is already nodding. “She will.”
The healer bows his head. “You carry a rare child, my Queen. A miracle born through death and returned through love.”
Their words sink deep into the quiet of the room. When they bow and leave, Nicholaus lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingertips gently.
“You hear that?” he whispers against my skin. “You did it. You kept them alive and healthy through everything.”
My throat tightens as I rest my hand over his, feeling the warmth of his palm against my stomach.
“We kept them alive,” I correct softly. “You brought me back.”
He exhales a sound between a laugh and something broken, leaning his forehead to mine. “We'll protect them. From now until the end of our days.”
I close my eyes, letting the bond pulse softly between us. The heart inside me beats again, and this time, I feel it. Every flutter. Every miracle.