Chapter 202- Shifting Timelines
CJ
The alliance conference ended, but its weight lingered long after the chairs were emptied, and the torches burned low. I walked beside Lexy as the others filed out, her presence steady though I knew the moment had taken its toll. To stand before them, not only as queen but as a mother, carrying life once more—she had shown strength in its truest form.
And then there was Tarria. I watched her through the whole meeting, how she carried herself beneath their stares, how she spoke when doubt cut at her like a blade. I respected her for it. She hadn’t flinched, hadn’t begged for trust. She had offered her power openly, ready to prove herself through action. That was the mark of someone forged by hardship and still willing to rise.
Still, I knew not all the doubts had been silenced. Trust came slowly, and fear lingered longer than any victory. But a seed had been planted. And that was enough—for now.
The days that followed were quieter, though the air still carried tension. Patrols reported fewer signs of stragglers from Adrian’s forces, but the scattered remnants were dangerous in their desperation. I oversaw the rotation schedules personally, ensuring no lapses could be exploited. Our people needed rest, but they also needed vigilance.
Lexy spent much of those days balancing her roles as queen and mother. She trained with Tarria when her strength allowed, teaching her the same lessons she and I had once shared—control, focus, trust. I often stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching them both. Fire and smoke, flame and shadow, moving in tandem instead of collision.
And always, in the background, the laughter of three small voices. Our first triplets adored Tarria in a way that melted even her guarded heart. They called her Titi without hesitation, their acceptance fierce and pure. Watching them together was like watching healing happen in real time.
At night, Lexy and I found rare moments of quiet. Sometimes we sat in silence, our hands intertwined, simply breathing together. Other times we spoke of the future, of what it meant to bring new life into a world still healing. Her fire burned softer now, gentler, wrapping itself around me not as a weapon but as warmth. And each time I rested my hand on her growing belly, I felt both pride and unease.
Because this time, the changes were happening faster. Too fast.
It was subtle at first. A flicker of movement sooner than expected. The swell of her stomach was more pronounced with each dawn. Even her fire reacted differently, flaring when the little ones stirred, as though they were already feeding from her strength.
“CJ,” she whispered one night as we lay together, her hand guiding mine to where a sharp kick pressed against her skin. “They’re stronger than before. Do you feel it?”
I did. And though awe filled me, worry shadowed it too.
“We’ll ask Bennett,” I told her, though my voice betrayed the unease I tried to bury.
By the end of the week, I insisted we make the visit. Lexy agreed, though I could see she shared my concerns. We walked together through the stronghold, past watchful guards and curious glances, until we reached the quiet wing where Dr. Bennett had made her practice since our first set of triplets.
The Doc was waiting, as though she had expected us. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw Lexy, though they flicked quickly to her belly and lingered there with a knowing look.
“You’ve been busy again,” she said dryly, gesturing us inside.
Lexy laughed softly, but I caught the strain behind it. “Seems I don’t get much rest from carrying kingdoms or children.”
Bennett smiled faintly, then grew serious as she prepared her instruments. “Let’s see how these little ones are doing.”
I stood at Lexy’s side, her hand gripping mine tightly as the check began. Familiar tension filled the room—the same mix of fear and hope we had carried with our first set. But this time, Bennett’s brow furrowed sooner.
“What is it?” I asked, sharper than I intended.
“Patience, Your Majesty,” she muttered, though her voice lacked reprimand. She studied carefully, checking, rechecking. Finally, she exhaled.
“They’re healthy. Very healthy,” she said at last. Relief flickered in my chest, but only briefly, for her tone carried weight.
Lexy squeezed my hand. “But…?”
Bennett adjusted her lenses, her gaze firm now. “They’re growing faster than I expected. Much faster. Based on their development, the due date has moved up nearly a month.”
The words landed like stones. I tightened my grip on Lexy’s hand, as though to anchor us both. “A month?”
He nodded. “It’s unusual, but not unheard of—given the strength of your bloodlines, and the intensity of power they’re exposed to. These children are… accelerated. You’ll need to be ready sooner than planned.”
Lexy’s eyes widened, fear and wonder warring across her face. “So soon,” she whispered.
I bent close, pressing my forehead to hers, my hand still resting on the curve of her belly. “Then we’ll be ready,” I murmured. “Whatever comes, we’ll be ready.”
Her fire flickered against my skin, not wild, but steady. A promise.
Bennett cleared her throat. “Rest will be essential. No overexertion, no unnecessary risks. These children may be strong, but so is their mother. And they will need her steady.”
Lexy nodded, her resolve already forming like steel. But I knew the weight of her words would settle deep. She was fire, unyielding, but even fire needed care.
As we left Bennett’s office, the corridors seemed narrower, the air heavier. The future we had braced for was coming faster than either of us had planned.
Lexy slowed as we stepped outside, the evening light brushing gold against her hair. I watched her tilt her face toward the fading sun, her free hand drifting protectively across her belly. For a long moment, she said nothing, and neither did I. The silence was its own vow, a recognition of how swiftly everything could change.
Finally, she turned her gaze on me, fierce despite the shadow of worry in her eyes. “We have less time than we thought,” she murmured.
I drew her close, my arm strong around her shoulders. “Then every day we have, we’ll make count. No fear, Lex. Only preparation.”
And in that instant, with her pressed against me and our children stirring between us, I knew one truth as steady as my heartbeat.
We would not face it alone.
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