Chapter 162
I froze. "You mean—"
"A surgical birth," he clarified. "It's not something I would normally recommend, but given the circumstances, it is the best way to ensure a live birth."
My breath caught in my throat. "Would my child survive?"
"There are risks," he admitted. "But if we keep the baby under careful watch after... it is possible."
I pressed a hand to my belly, feeling the soft, fluttering movements of life beneath my skin. My baby. Rowan's baby. Our son or daughter, helpless and innocent in all of this.
Fear gnawed at my insides. I had never heard of such a procedure before. I had no idea how painful it would be or what my chances of survival were. But I knew one thing—if I did nothing, both my child and I would be at Lucian's mercy.
And I refused to let that happen.
I forced myself to meet Aldric's gaze. "Do it," I said firmly.
His expression darkened. "Are you sure?"
"They're already planning my fate after the inauguration," I said bitterly. "Even now as I live, I am completely at their mercy. I need the protection the throne offers. Rowan is too far away to help me. This is the only way."
Aldric hesitated for only a second more before he nodded. "Then we must act quickly."
I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to stay calm. "When can we do it?"
"Tonight," he said. "I will need to prepare my chambers. We must ensure we have everything necessary. And we must do this in secret. If Lucian finds out—"
"He won't," I said fiercely. "I won't let him."
Aldric studied me, his eyes filled with worry. "You understand that this will not be easy, Your Majesty. The pain will be... unbearable."
I clenched my fists. "I can handle it."
He nodded solemnly. "Then I will make the preparations. You stay here and rest."
I sat there, gripping my belly, my heart hammering in my chest.
This was it.
My only chance to save myself. To save my child.
I just had to survive.
……………
I lay on the physician's table, my body trembling with fear and exhaustion. Sweat clung to my skin as Aldric moved swiftly around the dimly lit chamber, preparing for the procedure that would decide my fate—and my child's.
"Breathe, Your Majesty," Aldric said firmly.
I tried, but every inhale felt sharp and shallow. My fingers dug into the thin sheet beneath me as pain twisted through my abdomen. This was happening. There was no turning back now.
Aldric glanced at me once more. "Once we begin, you must remain as still as possible. Any sudden movement could lead to a grave mistake.”
I nodded weakly, my mind barely processing his words. My heart thundered in my chest. The only thing keeping me grounded was the rhythmic, faint movement of my baby beneath my ribs.
Aldric's assistant, a young healer named Miriam, moved closer, holding a vial. "This will help dull the pain."
"Will it put me to sleep?" My voice was hoarse.
"No," Aldric said. "You need to stay awake."
I swallowed hard. "Then do it."
Miriam pressed the vial to my lips. The bitter liquid burned down my throat, but I forced myself to drink it all. Almost instantly, a numbness spread through my limbs. The sharp edge of my pain dulled—but not completely.
Aldric took a deep breath, then reached for his scalpel. "I'm beginning."
I braced myself.
The first cut sent fire through my entire body.
I bit down on my lower lip to keep from screaming, but the agony was unbearable. My back arched involuntarily as Aldric worked quickly, his hands steady, his focus unshakable.
Flashes of light burst behind my eyes.
Then the memories came.
Rowan's face, his stormy gaze softening only for me. Rowan in a wheelchair, asking me to leave when he found out I was just a substitute bride for a woman who didn’t want him.
Our first night together in that cabin, the warmth of his embrace.
The betrayal I had felt when I saw him announcing his married to Lady Isabelle Carstairs, how I had thought he had moved on so fast.
A beautiful golden castle, Braam. Where I had sought refuge and promised to get revenge on Rowan and on Zaire. A past I had forgotten forcing its way back into me, unraveling in a wave of unbearable clarity.
I gasped, the pain merging with the flood of memory, and tears spilled down my cheeks. "I—I remember," I choked out. "I remember everything."
Aldric barely hesitated. "Hold on, Your Majesty. Almost there."
I could hear the worry in his voice, but I couldn't focus on it. My mind was caught between the past and the present, drowning in the overwhelming realization of who I truly was.
Then—
"The baby, we’re almost there," Aldric said urgently. "One more cut—"
A jolt of excruciating pain.
A sharp cry—my own.
And then—nothing.
Silence.
My breath hitched.
"Is he here? Why isn't he crying?" My voice came out hoarse, desperate.
Aldric was already moving, lifting the small, unmoving form into his hands. My son. A boy.
It was a boy.
But he wasn't crying.
Terror clawed through me. "No—no, no, no," I gasped. "Do something! Please!"
Aldric worked frantically, clearing the baby's airways, rubbing his tiny chest, his hands moving with years of expertise. But there was still no sound. No sign of life.
I felt as if my soul was being ripped from my body.
"Breathe," Aldric muttered, his voice shaking. "Come on, little one."
I reached for my son with trembling fingers. He was so small. Too still. His skin, soft and perfect, was losing warmth.
“Give him to me! Give me my son!”
Aldric's assistant, Miriam, wiped tears from her eyes, handing me my baby with gentle care. "We—we've done everything."
No.
No, I refused this.
I was not going to lose him.
I ignored the searing pain in my abdomen, the fresh agony tearing through me, and pressed my son to my chest. My voice broke as I whispered, "Please, my son. Please stay with me."
Aldric swallowed hard, his own hands shaking.
Minutes passed.
Too long.
Too long for any to be alive.
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