There was child, Vi. The fourth time you went away, you came back swollen with child. A little girl with your mouth. You named her Amaya—
Amaya.
The word strikes through me like a bell that’s been rung.
Hammerstrikes of memory assault me.
And then I’m falling, falling, my hand clutching my head as another layer of curse work shatters and I’m swept into the past….
Pain. And desperation.
And fear.
“Push,” snaps a hard voice. “Push.”
I can’t do it. I can’t get through this. If I push, then my mother will take my baby away.
“No!” I scream, biting my knuckles. Help me. Help me, please. It’s tearing me in two.
I need him. I need him so badly, and he’s not here, and I’m so weak that I don’t know if I have the strength to fight them all. Thiago! I throw the thought out into the night, but there’s no answer.
And there won’t be.
This little ruined keep of Clydain—which has been my home for the past six months—is far to the north of Asturia and warded by so many levels of magic that no one will ever hear me or see me again.
“Please… no.” Another spasm of pain tears me into two, and my spine bows as I scream.
“You have to push!”
“Vi.” Someone kneels beside me, taking me by the hand, and I clutch at them as if they’re my last lifeline.
I can barely breathe, every iota of my being trying not to birth this baby. It’s the only way I can protect her, and every inch of me contorts with pain.
But suddenly Andraste’s face is next to mine. “If you don’t push,” she says, “your baby will die.”
I burst into tears, gasping raggedly. “Please don’t let her take my baby…. Please.”
My sister’s face dissolves as the unbearable urge to push takes over. Gods, it hurts. Every panting breath feels like I’m being torn in two. But I beg her. I beg her with my eyes and the entire whole of my being.
“That’s it!” the midwife encourages. “Bear down, Princess.”
“I’ll protect her as if she is my own,” Andraste says, cradling me as I shake. “I promise, Vi. I’ll never let anything happen to her.” And then her voice drops, until it’s only a whisper. “In Maia’s name, Vi. I will protect her no matter what I must do.”
It’s the only thing I can hold on to as I scream and grunt and push.
And then suddenly the pressure is gone, and my body collapses back in Andraste’s arms as the baby slips free of me.
My baby. My baby. I try to raise my arm….
The midwife lifts her head from between my thighs, a little bundle in her arms. A cry splits the air, and sweet Maia, but my baby is breathing. My baby’s breathing and blessed gods, she’s so—
“Show me.” A voice cuts through my haze, and then my mother swims out of the shadows.
Every inch of her is smothered in black, and the golden crown on her head seems to loom over all of us. She’s never far from it.
“No.” I tense, but Andraste’s grip on my hands tightens.
“You were right. It’s a little girl,” the nurse says, her gaze drifting between my mother and me. She tilts the baby toward my mother.
A girl.
My mother takes the bundle in her arms, and every inch of dread I’ve ever felt sinks its icy daggers through my chest.
“Don’t you dare touch her.” I try to push up onto my hands, but my body spasms again.
“Hush now,” my mother croons as my baby cries. “Look how beautiful you are.”
I don’t even know what she looks like.
“Give her back!” I scream, reaching for my baby. No, please. Not this. Anything but this…. “Give her back!”
“She doesn’t belong to you anymore,” my mother says, lifting my baby and smiling down at her. “She is mine. Mine to raise as I see fit. Mine to mold. Mine to destroy if I so choose.”
No.
I try to shove my way out of the birthing bed, but my limbs are so weak and I’m still shaking.
“Mother.” Andraste appears at the queen’s side, and rests a hand on my mother’s arm. “May I see my niece?”
My mother offers my baby to my sister, and Andraste gathers her safely into her arms.
“Please.” I reach toward them. Toward my daughter.
Andraste moves back to the bed, still cooing at the bundle.
“Andraste,” Mother barks.
“She should see her,” my sister snaps back, shooting Mother a fierce look. “Let her see her. You’ve won. Grant her this one small mercy.”
I try to haul myself out of bed, but my body is still wracked with contractions. And I don’t know if Adaia replies, because all I can see is the bundle in my sister’s arms.
Andraste kneels on the bed beside me and eases back the linens.
My baby.
She’s so little. So perfect. All scrunched up and red-faced and squalling. Her hair is matted to her skin with a thick waxy coating, and her face screws up as she cries. The second I touch her, she turns her snuffling mouth toward me, trying to latch on to my finger.
And my heart breaks in two.
I promised. I promised I’d protect you forever and I can’t….
“Please,” I beg Andraste.
Take her away. Get her out of here. Protect her.
And our eyes meet as if she hears me.
It’s been a long time since she’s heard me.
“What do you want to name her?” my sister whispers, and I know this is the only thing I might have.
“Amaya. Call her Amaya.”
A slight variation in honor of his mother.
“That’s enough,” my mother says coldly.
“No, please.” I grab for the bundle, that little finger still curled around mine. “Please.”
Andraste hesitates, and for a second I think I might have a chance. Just one.
“Enough.” My mother’s voice is a whip crack. “Get that child out
