Doctor Schultz met her eyes and twisted his lips in a small smile. “No.”
“You’re delivering my miracle baby…”
“This is a miracle baby alright,” he agreed. It had been a tense six months since Chloe’s return to the palace – she’d been cossetted and wrapped in cotton wool, but all for this! Her pregnancy had progressed, their baby in her belly was strong and active. This was happening. “Now push. Once more – you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Go!”
Chloe didn’t need to be told twice. She squeezed her eyes shut, braced her whole body and pushed as hard as she could, until she felt like she might break in two, and then, suddenly, in the midst of the pain, from the centre of her soul, she heard it.
An infant’s cry.
She collapsed back against the bed, her blonde hair wet from perspiration, her whole body sagging with relief and delirium.
“What is it?” She asked, remaining where she was, catching her breath.
“Your highnesses, congratulations. You have a perfect little son,” he grinned, gesturing for Raffa to join him. The Sheikh cut the umbilical cord and then took his son, wrapped in a gold blanket, into his arms. He stared down at the little face with his mother’s dimple and Raffa’s thick dark hair and every piece of him slotted into place.
“A baby boy,” he said with wonder, moving back to Chloe and placing the baby on her chest. His throat was thick with emotion, and he found he couldn’t stop staring at his wife and their child. It was a perfect tableau. “We have a baby boy.”
“You are blessed,” Doctor Schulz said with a shake of his head. “I will never understand how this was possible.”
Chloe smiled, but didn’t lift her gaze from the baby she and her husband had made. “It was just meant to be. A perfect little surprise.”
“And I thought you didn’t like surprises?” Raffa reminded her.
Chloe threw him a look, having no idea how beguiling she appeared in that moment. Her hair was a mess and her face was flushed, but she glowed from every single pore of her body. “Apparently I was wrong. It would appear some surprises are very, very good.”
They sat and stared at their son for as long as they were able, before a medical team appeared to remove the child, to check his over-all good health. Chloe managed to convince Raffa to leave her side, just for a moment, to let certain people know about the baby. He called Amit, Kalim and finally Apollo.
It was a call he made with some sense of mixed-emotions.
Apollo had long been one of Raffa’s closest friends, and a year earlier, Raffa would have said he could never think ill of the other man. But knowing how his wife had been neglected, knowing how Chloe had been left to fend for herself, to feel lonely and unwanted, it changed how Raffa saw his friend. It changed how he cared for him.
It was a great sadness, indeed, but until Apollo made an effort with Chloe, then Raffa couldn’t imagine their friendship continuing in the same way.
Nonetheless, he was Chloe’s only surviving relative, and Raffa owed it to both of them to pass on their happy news.
“You’ll come and see the baby,” he said, hoping his friend would acquiesce.
“Yes.” The word was clipped. “I’ll come soon.”
“Good. Apollo? It’s time for you and your sister to remember that you’re family.”
Silence met the pronouncement and Raffa gripped the phone tight, waiting for his friend to speak. Heaven knew, there weren’t many people on earth who ever gave Apollo orders, but Raffa counted himself as one of them.
“How is she?”
The question was simple, and yet it promised a world. Raffa smiled. “She is an angel.”
Apollo laughed. “I’m glad to hear you say it. I’ll come over as soon as I can get away. Give her … give Chloe my love.”
When the call was disconnected, Raffa returned to the hospital room to see his wife in the process of being attended to by her aids. He was torn between feeling pleased that she had help when she needed it, and resentment at having this private moment invaded.
It wouldn’t be long before the world would burst in on them, but for a while longer, he wanted it to be just the three of them.
He dismissed the staff and for the next several hours, he was simply a father and husband. He held his baby, watched his wife sleep, and then sang to their precious son, softly, in his own tongue, the nursery rhymes he’d learned as a child.
Finally, as the day dragged downwards and night took its place, Chloe was dressed in an elegant tunic style dress and some loose pants. Raffa helped her to standing, his expression thunderous when she winced a little.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, we do. I’ve read up on the traditions, and this is one of them.”
“A stupid tradition,” he glowered, wanting nothing more than to protect his wife, to ensure her comfort.
“Just think, the sooner we do this, the sooner we shall be home – just you, me and little Reginald here.”
“Reginald?” He burst out laughing, and it was as if the sun was shining from behind the evening sky. Chloe blinked, her heart bursting.
“Okay, maybe not Reginald.”
“Definitely not.” He nodded towards the guards at the doors. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, your highness. So long as you’re beside me, I’m ready for anything.”
Fierce, all-consuming pride filled him like a balloon, puffing out his chest. His beautiful, brave wife, the mother of his child, the savior of the kingdom. What could he ever do to deserve her?
The doors to the balcony were pushed open and the noise from the crowd below rose up towards them like thunder from the ground. Chloe held their baby as though she’d been doing so all her life, and in unison, the
