Epilogue II

Two Years Later

H akon lay still in their bed, his little baby daughter cooing softly on his chest. Roslinn had deigned to doze once she'd been placed there, lulled by his steady breathing and heartbeat. He held her little rump in his hand, ensuring she wouldn't kick herself off and tumble into the blankets. Again.

His other hand rested on Aislinn's thigh, where he rubbed softly with his thumb. She lay beside him, head resting on his shoulder, carding her fingers through their daughter's wispy blonde hair.

The moment was perfect.

Some went through life without a single perfect moment, but Hakon had been blessed with many. He had his mate to thank for that. She took his breath away with her brilliance and kindness. She'd made a place for him in her life beside her, bent the demesne and kingdom itself to her will to keep him. Over their years together, she'd taught him, consoled him, loved him.

And now, she'd given him the most precious of gifts.

Roslinn had arrived almost three weeks ago now. She came screaming into the world, her lungs working just fine. The sound had been the most beautiful he'd ever heard after a long day of labor for Aislinn.

They hadn't always thought they would have a child. Hakon was content to have just Aislinn, no matter the noises her father and the vassals made about an heir. But a year ago, his mate had felt herself ready.

"Maybe just the once," she told him, and he agreed wholeheartedly.

The first months of pregnancy hadn't affected Aislinn much, and those symptoms she did develop didn't slow her down. At least, she tried not to let them. When she grew too round to manage stairs, she had him carry her up and down, for "This is all your fault," as she liked to remind him. He just chuckled and kissed her hair and took her where she needed to go.

When she was too heavy with Rosie to walk much at all, she'd had work sent to their rooms. It distracted her from the discomfort, but the latter half of the pregnancy had worn on her. Confined to their new apartments, she'd stayed abed more than she wished.

They'd moved into the larger suite meant for the liege and their family soon after deciding to try conceiving. The larger bedchamber and solar suited them, as did the small nursery off the solar. Aislinn set up a sedan beside her desk to work from, and she probably would have kept her books while in labor if he hadn't earmarked her page and carried her to the bed.

What ensued then had been the longest day of Hakon's life. Aislinn paced the room for hours, hair matted with sweat, her skin pale. For a long while, the baby just wouldn't come.

Her fear grew with every hour, and more than one midwife had to reassure her that this wouldn't be like her mother's pregnancy. She was doing just fine. The baby was in the correct position, just taking their time.

No one spoke it, but the fear grew that the baby, a quarter orcish, may be too big to bear for Aislinn.

Hakon had stayed with her despite the sour looks from the midwives, helping lift her in and out of bed. He held her up when she tried to bear down standing up, and with each unsuccessful attempt, his panic swelled and his beast whined, more scared than he'd ever been.

Finally, deep into the night, little Rosie had decided to greet them. As he held his exhausted mate, their daughter had been placed in Aislinn's arms. Hakon held everything in the world then, everything that mattered. It was his first perfect moment with Rosie.

Fates, three weeks with a newborn had changed Hakon in ways he'd never imagined. For the first week, he'd been absolutely terrified to touch Rosie, fearing his big hands would crush her. How could they not—she was so small, so delicate, so perfect.

Her skin was the palest green, like new shoots and springtime. She had her mother's flaxen hair but Hakon's dark eyes and pointed ears. Her limbs were chubby with health, and every time she squeezed his finger with her little hand, Hakon rumbled with a love so pure and deep, it took his breath away.

She was so far not much like either of them, instead sassy and loud. "Siggy will love her," Aislinn joked. She certainly seemed to know she was an important child with title and position, for if a newborn could be imperious, Rosie was. But Hakon could tell already she'd be as smart as her mother. His little daughter wouldn't be one to cross.

Snuggling closer, Aislinn asked him, not for the first time, "Are you sure one is enough?"

Hakon was content to wait a long while for a second child, if they ever even tried for another at all, not wanting to see his mate go through such an ordeal again. Although Rosie hadn't been as large as everyone feared, she was still larger than a human baby, and Aislinn's body would take a long while to recover.

"I have more than I ever could have dreamed, vinya . You, Rosie, our life—my heart aches with how full you've made it."

She pressed a kiss into his cheek. "You always know just what to say."

Turning his face to hers, he received another kiss this time to his lips. "It's the truth."

Aislinn hummed happily, lingering for more kisses. He was happy to give them, and they passed long moments just like that, slow kisses as their daughter slept peacefully.

When she pulled away, she touched her forehead to his. "Do we have to go?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said, "we promised your father."

Aislinn heaved a sigh, resigned. Hakon bit back his smile at the noise, and carefully, he sat up. "Come on, vittarah, " he told his daughter when she began to squirm, "it's time to meet your people."

Handing off Rosie for her noontime meal before they left their chambers, Hakon changed into more courtly attire. Both he and his mate were used to informal, comfortable clothes—that hadn't changed with their marriage or Rosie. Still, special occasions called for special attire.

He still wasn't entirely used to pulling on the fine clothes that sat in an armoire full of clothing just for him. Made of the finest fabrics and leathers, embroidered with silk and silver threads, they were clothes for a prince. Or a lord consort. It'd taken a long while to get used to his reflection in the mirror when he wore the clothes, but for all the strangeness, it made him proud to stand beside his mate looking so. Like he deserved to be there. Like he belonged.

Dressing Rosie and Aislinn was a much longer affair. Rosie squirmed and laughed as they tried to fit her little arms through the sleeves of her small frock, and she delighted in kicking her tiny slippers from her feet.

"This child is going to enjoy running through the castle barefoot, just you watch," Aislinn grumbled as she tried again to finish dressing Rosie.

"You mean like you do?" he teased from behind her, where he stood lacing her stays.

That earned him a scowl over her shoulder. "Don't you take her side."

Hakon just chuckled.

When Rosie was as dressed as she'd allow and Aislinn was comfortable in one of her looser maternity gowns with her golden waves brushed and shining, Hakon took a moment to admire his little family. It pleased something deep and instinctual to see them all in matching Darrow blue. They were together, a unit, part of the same whole.

His mate handed him Rosie, but he handed her right back. "You carry her," he said, "and I'll carry you." Ducking down, he rose with his mate in his arms, her long skirts draped over his arms and Rosie secure in hers.

Aislinn blushed. "I can walk. For the most part."

"You walked this morning," he reminded her.

She'd made a valiant show of going to the dining hall for breakfast. The staff had risen from their seats to applaud her, and cheers had rung out so long that Hugh had to come up from the kitchen to scold everyone to eat before the food got cold.

"That's true." Aislinn laid her head against his shoulder as they walked. "And I find this is the superior form of transport."

Hakon laughed. "It's my most treasured duty, my lady."

"I may have you carry me around forever."

"Careful, I might start to think you're serious and do it."

Aislinn giggled into his neck, which made Rosie start giggling, too.

They were all laughing by the time they made the great hall. The guards at the posterior door grinned at the sight before opening it for them. "My lady, my lord," they said, smiling when Rosie stared at them.

As they entered, the heavy metal-tipped cane of the herald dropped to the ground three times before the man announced, "Their Graces Lady Aislinn, Lord Consort Hakon, and Lady Roslinn."

The hall buzzed with excitement, and Hakon looked out at all the curious faces gathered. It was far more than Merrick had told him were likely to attend, but then, many would want this first glimpse of the new Darrow heir.

Hakon had been adamant that introducing Rosie to the people would come only when Aislinn was healthy enough and not a moment sooner. He'd been horrified to learn that noble mothers and children were often brought out a day or so after the birth, and in no uncertain terms, he'd told Merrick that that wouldn't happen with Aislinn and Rosie.

His father-in-law had deferred without argument, and he'd thankfully kept at bay the vassals who'd wanted to offer their well-wishes and see the new heiress apparent.

Hakon felt the way Aislinn stiffened with surprise to see so many faces. Rosie felt the change too and made a noise of uncertainty.

"They're all excited to see you," Hakon whispered.

"If only it was mutual," she whispered back.

Hakon pressed a quick kiss to her temple as he ascended the dais.

Merrick already stood beside his seat, and he smiled warmly to see them. The man had aged greatly in the past years, his ordeal with the sweating sickness stealing his vitality. Aislinn had nursed him back to health with sheer will, and although more frail, he'd taken to his more reduced role amiably. The coming of his first grandchild also seemed to invigorate him, and he was always looking for an opportunity to steal Rosie away for a few hours.

Merrick extended his hand, and Hakon placed Aislinn carefully in her father's seat. She looked up at him with wide, anxious eyes, her unease thrumming through their bond.

"They are here for you and Rosie," Hakon assured her.

Standing again, he took his usual place beside the seat.

Merrick leaned down to kiss his daughter and granddaughter. Rosie laughed up at him, grabbing for his beard, which she always loved to play with.

The gathered crowd held their breath as Merrick and Hakon stood on either side of Aislinn and Rosie. Hakon recognized many faces—Mayor Doherty and many other town elders; all the guild-masters had come; Morraugh, Starley, Burgoyne, Holt, and many more vassals; Allarion and his bride, manticores, half-orcs, and harpies and their human mates. And at the front stood Orek and Sorcha, surrounded by their family, their own new baby boy tucked safely in Sorcha's arms.

Sharing their pregnancies had only strengthened the friendship between Aislinn and Sorcha, as well as Hakon and Orek. Sorcha's son Fionn had arrived just two weeks before Rosie, and Hakon suspected they would be fast friends as they grew.

The crowd was full of halflings of all kinds, the Darrowlands home now to dozens of otherly folk and their human mates. A village of them grew on and expanded from the land Hakon had traded to the manticores, and all were fiercely loyal to the liege and heiress who'd provided them with a chance.

Hakon looked upon Aislinn, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of her holding their daughter. Her expression was still pensive, but her shoulders were back, her spine straight. Rosie gazed out at the crowd curiously, assessing her people.

In the first days after Rosie's birth, Aislinn had cried with her worries over the life Rosie would lead. Would the people of the Darrowlands truly accept their green-skinned daughter as heiress and eventually liege?

"I, Merrick Darrow, Liege Lord of these lands, have the honor of presenting my firstborn grandchild. I recognize her as Roslinn Darrow, blood of my blood, heiress apparent of the Darrowlands."

The crowd gazed in wonder at Aislinn and Rosie as Merrick paused to let his declaration resound.

"Who here will pledge their fealty to my daughter, blood of my blood?" Aislinn asked, her clear voice ringing to the rafters of the great hall.

Without hesitation, Hakon knelt. "I do swear."

Like the tide rolling across the shore, one by one, every knee in the great hall bent.

In those dark hours, when exhaustion and worry for their daughter hung heavily around Aislinn's neck, Hakon had pulled her close.

"They have loved your father. They love you. And they will love Rosie, too—for your father, for you, and for herself."

And as Hakon gazed out at the great hall, at the Darrowlands kneeling before his mate and little green daughter, he knew what he'd said was true. The Darrowlands loved them.

But not half as much as he did.