Chapter 75: Just another battle

Chapter 75: Just another battle
"I am sorry, my Queen," the elder said softly. "You’re not expecting a child yet."

The heavy canvas of the midwives’ tent smelled of dried sage and old copper, but to Misarya, it only smelled like failure.

She sat on the edge of a woven cot, her hands tightly gripping the edges of her lilac silk skirts. The elder midwife, a kind woman with deep lines etched around her eyes, offered a gentle, sympathetic smile that only made Misarya’s chest ache more.

Misarya swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. She looked down at her lap. "Do you think... Do you think there is something wrong with me?"

"Gods, no," the midwife quickly reassured her, stepping forward to press a warm, calloused hand over Misarya’s. "It is very premature to say that. You are very young, and you have only been married for a few months. Your blood comes regularly, and you seem very healthy. Your prince is coming, Misarya-Lir. You simply need to be patient."

The elder turned to a wooden table lined with clay jars and quickly mixed a handful of dried leaves into a small linen pouch.

"Here," she said, handing the pouch to the Queen. "A blend of raspberry leaf, nettle, and desert root. Steep it in hot water before you sleep. It will warm your blood and prepare your womb for the King's seed."

Misarya took the pouch, forcing a grateful smile. "Thank you."

The Askari healers were incredibly wise, and they treated her with the utmost respect. But as Misarya stepped out of the tent into the blinding midday sun, Azeth falling into step beside her, a dark cloud of insecurity followed her.

What if something was wrong?

Rhea had been rendered infertile by a brutal physical wound, a tangible injury that Misarya had been able to coax into healing using her abilities. But the magic of fire seemed useless against the quiet, invisible mysteries of a woman's fertility. Back in the valleys, the High Priestesses of the Eternal Flame taught that these matters were nearly impossible to heal because they were the direct will of the gods. They taught that it was the gods' choice to make a woman barren—and sometimes, it was a direct punishment for an impure heart.

Misarya tightened her grip on the herbal pouch. She wondered, with a sickening spike of dread, if her heart was impure. Was she being punished for initially hating her husband? For abandoning the customs of her people?

"My Queen!"

Even before turning around, Misarya rolled her eyes, suppressing a heavy sigh.

Maya was standing near the edge of the pavilion, looking impeccably fresh in a cut-out dress of pale yellow linen. She offered a perfectly executed, graceful bow.

"Maya," Misarya greeted dryly.

“Do you need any help?” Maya straightened, her sharp eyes immediately dropping to Misarya’s hands. "Oh, what is this?"

Misarya shifted the pouch slightly. "Just herbs for a tea."

Maya’s smile widened, a knowing, sickeningly sweet curve of her lips. "Oh, is that the midwives' tea? For your fertility, my Queen?"

Misarya’s jaw locked. She kept her expression perfectly blank. "Yes."

"I have heard it is very good," Maya chirped cheerfully, falling into step beside Misarya as they walked back toward the King's cabin. "The mothers in the village swear by it. I didn't know about this tea before coming to the Old Village, to be honest. The women in my family are all incredibly fertile. My older sister didn't have a single period after getting married. Five years, five boys."

Misarya offered a dry, tight smile. "Sounds exhausting."

Maya let out a light laugh. "Not for us. We are Askari, my Queen. We are warriors. Childbirth is just another battle we are proud to fight for our men. I have heard the women in the valleys of Halen-dar do not go to battle."

"We do not wield swords," Misarya corrected, her tone icing over. "But childbirth is a battle we all fight. Otherwise, the valleys would be empty. And I assure you, Maya, they are very full."

Maya smiled, completely unfazed. "Of course, my Queen. I know that. The Dragon King wouldn't have chosen a Halendarian bride otherwise, would he?"

Misarya stopped walking. "Exactly."

Maya paused beside her, looking out over the bustling camp, her expression turning uncharacteristically thoughtful. "The Dragon King is probably the only Alirak I have ever heard of with no heirs. Well... Actually, no, I just remembered. There was Zanirak-Lir, of the Skarn tribes." Maya looked back at Misarya, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "His inability to sire children was seen as a severe lack of virility. He wasn't considered enough of a man to lead an army, let alone a kingdom. He was overthrown by his own generals."

Misarya was dead silent. The implication hung heavily in the hot air.

"Of course, that won't happen to our King," Maya added quickly, waving a dismissive hand, though her eyes gleamed with pure venom. "I have heard he even had a child with his lover from before he was crowned King. So... He is clearly capable of impregnating a woman."

Azeth lunged forward. The massive dire wolf bared his teeth, letting out a vicious, guttural growl that rattled the dust, barking directly in Maya’s face.

Maya screamed, stumbling backward, her pale yellow dress whipping around her ankles as she tripped over her own feet in terror.

Several people nearby in the square turned to look.

Misarya quickly grabbed the thick fur at the scruff of the wolf’s neck. "Azeth. Stop."

The wolf snapped his jaws but obeyed, sitting on his haunches, though his yellow eyes remained locked on Maya.

Misarya didn't look to see if Maya was alright or not. Her own heart was pounding a frantic, nauseating rhythm against her ribs.

"Excuse me, Maya," Misarya said, her voice entirely hollow. "I have to go."



In the dim light of the cabin, Misarya was straddling the Dragon King, her skin slick with sweat. Her breath came in short, ragged pants as she rode him in the dark. The physical connection was intense, almost bruising, but her mind was miles away, spiraling through the poison Maya had spread into her thoughts.

She felt the sudden, rigid tension in Ikarion’s massive frame beneath her. He gripped her hips tightly, groaning as his release tore through him, filling her with his seed. She usually feels her own pinnacle close to his, but this time she didn’t.

Misarya collapsed forward, resting her forehead against his damp chest, her heart aching with a profound, terrifying sadness.

Ikarion slowly sat up, bringing her with him. He held her securely by the waist, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to her swollen lips before gently turning her and placing her down against the soft mattress.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He walked naked across the room to the small wooden table, his broad back illuminated by the dying embers of the hearth. He poured two generous glasses of dark wine.

He returned to the bed, handing one glass to Misarya before sitting down beside her.

Misarya took a slow sip, the heavy, spiced wine burning the back of her throat. She used to hate it, but now the complex taste has become somewhat pleasant and interesting to her. She stared down at the dark red liquid, her knuckles turning white around the cup.

"My King… Can I ask you something?" she whispered.

Ikarion took a drink of his own wine, turning his head to look at her. His expression was open, relaxed from their intimacy. "What is it, my dove?"

Misarya hesitated. The words tasted like ash on her tongue, but the doubt was a wound she could not let fester for another night.

She looked up, meeting his golden eyes.

"Is it... Is it true that you had a bastard child before you became King?"