The Royal Heirs #55: Emma

The Royal Heirs #55: Emma
Pain lanced across my abdomen, sharp and insistent, dragging me from the depths of sleep into sudden, disorienting awareness. I gasped, my hand flying to my swollen belly as the twins shifted restlessly beneath my palm. Then came the rush of warmth between my thighs, soaking through my nightgown and the sheets beneath me. My water had broken. After everything—the assassination attempts, the trials, Benjamin's attack that had severed my bond with Theo—our daughters had decided it was finally time to make their entrance into the world.
"Theo," I whispered, then louder as another contraction gripped me: "Theo!"
The digital clock on our bedside table glowed an accusatory 4:07 AM. Five weeks since the trials had concluded, five weeks of relative peace as we'd prepared for the twins' arrival. Five weeks of learning to live with the hollow space where our bond had once been, that golden thread connecting our souls now frayed to its last tenuous strand.
Artemis stirred within me, her presence a familiar golden warmth that had grown stronger as my body healed. Pups coming, she confirmed, her excitement bleeding into my consciousness. Finally meet them.
I turned to Theo, who slept beside me, his features softened in repose, one arm flung above his head. In sleep, the worry lines that had become permanent fixtures on his face smoothed away, making him look younger, almost carefree. I hated to wake him, but another contraction made the decision for me, tearing a whimper from my throat as I kicked him with more force than I'd intended.
"Mmm?" His eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, then sharpening instantly as he registered my distress. "Emma? What's wrong?"
"They're coming, Theo," I gasped, clutching my belly as the contraction eased. "The babies are coming."
Understanding dawned on his face, followed immediately by focused determination. Without a word, he threw back the covers and slid his arms beneath me, one supporting my back, the other under my knees. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing, despite the considerable bulk the twins had added to my frame.
"You're in your boxers," I pointed out, my voice strained but amused despite the circumstances.
"And you're having our babies," he countered, already striding toward the door. "I think we have different priorities right now."
The palace corridors passed in a blur of ornate walls and concerned night guards who flattened themselves against the marble to let us pass. Theo moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his bare feet silent against the cold floor. I fumbled for my phone, which I'd somehow had the presence of mind to grab before we left our chambers.
"Texting Amelia," I explained between controlled breaths as another contraction built. "She should—" I broke off, gritting my teeth as the pain peaked, then subsided. "—meet us there."
Theo nodded, his amber eyes never leaving my face as he navigated the familiar path to the birthing suite we'd prepared weeks ago. The room had been my compromise with palace tradition—I'd refused to give birth in the historical royal birthing chamber with its medieval aesthetics and grim history, but agreed to use this modernised suite rather than a hospital. In the end, no one had argued too strenuously; after Benjamin's attack, everyone recognised the security advantages of keeping me within the palace walls.
"Almost there," Theo murmured, his voice a soothing rumble against my ear. I wanted so badly to feel him through our bond, to share this moment of anticipation as we had once shared everything. The absence ached, fresh and raw despite the weeks that had passed.
The birthing suite doors swung open at our approach, the night staff having been alerted by our passage through the corridors. The room welcomed us with soft lighting and the subtle scent of lavender from the diffuser I'd requested. The birthing bed dominated the centre, surrounded by state-of-the-art medical equipment that somehow managed to look less clinical than expected in the warm ambiance.
Theo settled me gently on the edge of the bed just as Amelia burst through the door, her silver-streaked auburn hair hastily pulled into a bun, eyes bright with anticipation despite the early hour.
"It's a big day, mama and papa," she announced, her usual formal demeanour softened by genuine excitement as she snapped on latex gloves. "Let's meet these royal troublemakers, shall we?"
"Fuck!" The expletive tore from my lips as another contraction ripped through me, stronger than the last.
"That good, huh?" Amelia asked dryly, moving to examine me. "I've heard more colourful language from you, Your Majesty. Must not be that bad yet."
"Just wait," I promised through gritted teeth, gratefully accepting Theo's hand as he moved to my side. "I'm saving the really creative stuff for when things get serious."
Theo and Amelia worked in tandem, helping me change into a clean birthing gown and get settled against the pillows. The familiar routine we'd practiced in birthing classes flowed naturally, despite the early hour and sudden onset of labor.
"There are spare scrubs in the cupboard," Amelia told Theo, nodding toward a cabinet in the corner, "if you don't want to wander around in your pants all day. Though I'm sure the palace staff wouldn't mind the show."
I chuckled at the brief flash of embarrassment that crossed Theo's face, then swore again as a contraction wrapped around my midsection like a vise. One of the twins kicked vigorously against my ribs in response.
"I won't miss that feeling," I gasped, rubbing the spot. "Little feet using my internal organs as punching bags." I tried to smile through the discomfort, meeting Theo's worried gaze. "Worth it, though."
His hand found mine, warm and solid, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my knuckles. Without our bond, touch had become our primary language—each caress carrying meaning that once would have flowed effortlessly between our minds. Now, the pressure of his palm against mine spoke volumes: I'm here. We're doing this together. I love you.
Another contraction built, and I breathed through it as Amelia had taught us, focusing on the knowledge that each wave of pain brought our daughters closer to our arms. After everything we had endured—the threats, the violence, the loss of our bond—this moment felt like a victory hard-won. Our family, about to become complete despite those who had tried to prevent it.
"Ready?" Theo asked softly as the contraction eased, his amber eyes holding mine.
I nodded, squeezing his hand. "Ready."