Chapter 175 Something New
Bella
The act itself is unglamorous. There is nothing fairytale about peeing on a stick. It's just me in a warm stone room holding a little stick under my stream and trying not to overthink what will happen if it says yes. I set it on the edge of the basin, the way the instructions say. Then I pace. I stare at the tiny window like it might provide guidance. I count my breaths because it gives my brain something to do that isn’t panic. When I look down again, the answer is waiting. Two lines. My chest tightens so fast I have to grip the edge of the basin again to keep myself upright. I let out a sound that’s half laugh, half something that might turn into tears if I let it. When I step back into the chamber, Damien is standing exactly where I left him, arms crossed, posture controlled, eyes locked on the washroom door like he’s been guarding it. He sees my face, and his entire body changes. He crosses the space in three strides, and his gaze flicks to the stick, then back to me. “Bella,” he says, and he sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice from breaking. I hold it out, and he looks at the lines, his thumb rubs over them, a small, nervous movement that makes him look younger than I’ve ever seen him. And then Damien, King of a whole kingdom, a dragon who has ended wars, a man who can stare down monsters without blinking, does something that is so purely him that it makes my throat tighten all over again. He laughs. A soft burst of sound that’s almost disbelieving. Then he pulls me into his chest and holds me like he’s trying to press the moment into his bones. “You’re carrying our child,” he murmurs into my hair. I close my eyes. “Yes,” I whisper. He lifts his head and looks at me with those bright eyes. I blink hard once because I am not going to cry in a musty bedroom that smells like steam and scandal. “Hello,” he says softly, not to me. His hand slides to my stomach, warm and careful, palm resting like he can feel it already. I laugh, breathless. “It’s the size of a seed.”
“I don’t care,” he replies. “I can feel it.”
“You absolutely cannot.” He smiles like he knows I’m right and doesn’t care anyway. “I will learn.”
The honeymoon period ends at that moment. Real life knocks on the door again, and this time it brings a future with it. We shower, we dress, and Damien opens our bedroom door like he’s about to announce the end of a siege. The corridor is empty, but that doesn’t stop him. He steps out, shoulders back, and calls the first passing servant like he’s summoning an army. The poor man freezes mid-step. “Yes, Your Majesty?” Damien’s hand closes around mine. “My mate is with child,” he says, calm and certain, like he’s declaring a new law. The servant’s face changes instantly, eyes widening, then softening, then turning bright. “Oh. Congratulations.” Damien nods, chest puffed out and satisfied. “Thank you. Tell everyone.” I squeeze Damien’s hand. “We don’t need to tell everyone.” He turns his head to me, brows lifting like I’ve made a charming joke. “We are telling everyone.”
“We could tell… some people.”
“We will tell the mountain,” he replies.
“That’s not a person.”
“It is to me.”
I exhale a laugh through my nose and let him lead me, because resisting Damien when he’s in this mood is like trying to stop a river with your hands.
We go outside to where the kingdom is alive again. Guards are at their posts. Smoke is curling from chimneys. People are moving with purpose, carrying on as if the wedding weren’t a world-ending event, and time doesn't care about fairy tales. We take the path up the mountain. The climb along the path is easier now, stones set and smoothed, the work of hands that cared enough to make this safe. When we reach the village, people look up like they’ve been waiting for us. Damien does not ease into it. He stops in the centre of the path, lifts my hand, and says it loud enough that half the village hears without leaning. “She’s pregnant!” For a heartbeat, there is silence. Then the entire village explodes in cheers and laughs. A woman claps her hands over her mouth, and an elder nods, as if this confirms something they’ve been expecting. I stand there, stunned, while joy hits me from every direction. Red appears like she sensed the noise and came to assess the threat. She takes one look at Damien’s face, then at mine. “Congratulations.”
“We'll probably need some help to organise a nursery,” I reply. Red’s mouth tightens like she’s hiding a smile. “Whatever you need, I'll be here.” Ashlyn shoves through the crowd a second later, eyes bright, hair half pinned, cheeks pink like she’s been living on sugar and chaos. “OH MY GODS,” she yells, and then she’s on me, arms around my shoulders, squeezing like she thinks she can crush the news into my ribs. “Careful,” Damien warns, but there is no real bite in it. He’s too pleased. Ashlyn steps back, holding my shoulders, scanning my face like she’s searching for the exact moment my life changed. “I knew it,” she says smugly.
“You did not.”
“I did,” she insists. “I have a sense for these things.” Her head tilts slightly, and her grin changes, turning into something comical.
“And speaking of senses,” she says, leaning closer, “we will absolutely discuss something later. In private.”
I frown. “What?”
She turns her head just enough that her hair shifts off her neck, and there it is. A fresh mark. Dark and clean against her skin. My eyes widen before I can stop them, and Ashlyn beams. I look past her and find Paul hovering a few steps back. His gaze fixed on Ashlyn as if he’d rather take a blade than stop looking at her. I inhale a laugh. “Okay,” I say, voice very calm. “We are absolutely discussing that.” Ashlyn points at me. “Later.”
Red steps in, sharp gaze moving between us like she’s already calculating how many conversations she has to schedule before the village burns itself down in celebration. “Inside,” she orders. “Before someone starts offering you smoked fish as a prenatal remedy.” A woman nearby raises her hand. “It works.” Red simply stares her into silence. Damien keeps his hand in mine, and when he leans down, his mouth brushes my hair. “You’re alright,” he murmurs, and it isn’t a question this time. It’s a statement he’s decided to make true. I nod. I look at the village, at the faces, at Ashlyn’s grin, at Red’s controlled satisfaction, at Damien’s pride. Then I drop my gaze to my stomach, still flat, still mine, but holding something new.