Author's Preface
Jaziel’s head snapped upward. His hand instinctively shifted toward his weaponless belt as his gaze landed on Nimue. His face twisted at the sight of Nimue. She looked no happier to see him. Then his gaze dropped to her arms, where a small bundle of cloth lay. His brows knitted together.
The cloth was whining.
“What is that?” His voice came out tight. Jamila sighed heavily. Somehow, she looked even paler than she had moments ago.
“It’s your niece,” Jamila answered softly. She motioned weakly toward Nimue. Nimue hesitated, shooting Jaziel another glare before placing the small bundle in Jamila’s arms. He flinched as another whine escaped and a tiny arm popped out of the blanket.
Niece?
The word circled his mind until, finally, the pieces clicked together. Jamila… Jamila had given birth. That’s why the room smelled of blood. Why she looked exhausted. Why dark circles hung beneath her eyes.
But no… That couldn’t be.
Jamila never had a boyfriend. He made sure of that. In fact, she rarely showed much interest in men at all. And she was fine before he left. She wasn’t sick at all. There were no signs. Then an old memory surfaced. Jamila heaving onto the side of the palace. It happened once a day before he left.
Jamila smiled faintly, though the expression looked increasingly strained.
“Jaziel… meet Shani,” she said weakly.
“Shani?” he spat. It wasn’t a Gildan name. It was Sullivian. His sister had always been fascinated by the primitive language, but he’d never expected her to name a princess in such a tongue.
He sighed and his gaze dropped to the infant. Ivory skin. Lavender eyes. White hair. She looked so much like his sister. He reached in with a finger and the small meatball gripped his hand instinctively.
She was perfect.
But still… a thought continued to nag at him.
“Who’s the bastard…” he muttered.
Jamila tilted her head in what appeared to be confusion. “What?”
“Who was the bastard that touched you?!” He shot to his feet, glaring down at her. Jamila sighed in response.
“Before you start spinning a fairy tale… it was two consenting adults. No one forced me,” Jamila said, leveling a stare at Jaziel. Jaziel sighed, relief washing over him. He still wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Jamila being intimate with someone, but at least she’d chosen it. He wasn’t sure what he would have done to the bastard otherwise.
“Okay… so the father?” he asked, his voice softer now. Jamila smiled down at the child in her arms. It was a smile Jaziel had never seen before. Somehow, he knew it wasn’t really the princess she was seeing.
“I can’t tell you… But I can tell you he is a good and honorable man.” Her eyes met Jaziel’s. There was nothing but honesty in them. He couldn’t help the scoff that escaped him.
This faceless man had left his pregnant sister to fend for herself for ten and a half months and hadn’t even bothered to show up for the birth of his own child. Jamila had done it alone, with only a maid for company.
Jaziel froze.
Ten and a half months?
He’d been gone for ten and a half months. Jamila had been sick the day before he left. But Gildan children only took eight to nine months. Sullivians could take up to eleven… But this child was obviously Gildan. He could tell by her pale skin and rounded ears. Plus she had Jamila’s white hair.
He stepped closer and carefully pulled back the edge of the swaddle. His gaze caught the tuft atop the infant’s head again. On closer inspection, it wasn’t pure white. Beneath the silvery strands, a faint blush of color threaded through her hair. Then there was the name. The length of the pregnancy.
No. It couldn’t be.
She wouldn’t.
Then he saw the bangle.
In one swift motion, he tore it free. A sharp gasp rippled through the room as the illusion shattered. Pointed ears. Brown skin. The child cried out. Jaziel’s stomach dropped as he clenched the bracelet in his hand. He tore his gaze away from the child and looked back at Jamila.
“You…” he hissed. Jamila’s eyes widened. She stared at him, frozen. “The throne wasn’t enough? You had to taint our bloodline with Thornbloods?”
Jamila bristled instantly. Her brows drew together as color flooded her pale face. For one startling moment, she no longer looked exhausted.
Jaziel had never seen her so angry.
“She is a princess… and your niece!” Jamila snapped. She flinched. Her body trembled as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. She shifted on the bench and wrapped her free arm around her stomach.
Jaziel noticed.
Concern cut through his anger. He reached toward Jamila, then froze.
“Everything about her is perfect,” Jamila said. She silently took the bangle from his hand and fastened it back around Shani’s ankle. Jaziel looked between his now-empty hand and Jamila, dumbfounded. Her attention shifted to the child once more. It was as if he was no longer there for a moment.
“Shhh… you’re alright,” she whispered, rocking the crying infant against her chest. Her body trembled, a pained crease forming between her brows.
“Uncle is just shocked.” She gently stroked the points of Shani’s ears, and her cries quieted a moment later. Jaziel stood frozen, uncertain what to do for perhaps the first time in his life.
Nimue approached, offering to take the child. Jamila’s mouth formed a thin line, but she handed Shani to the maid nonetheless. Her arms shook with the effort.
“Her name is Shani,” Jamila continued, her gaze turning to Jaziel once more. “It means Beloved Dawn.” Her voice softened further as a small smile crossed her face.
Pride.
Jaziel watched silently. He couldn’t seem to shake the image of the child’s true appearance. Yet his gaze drifted towards Nimue, and his eyes met the child’s.
Lavender. Just like his sister’s eyes.
Was she truly a savage?
Her eyes were wide and innocent. With the bangle in place, she looked so much like Jamila. He sighed, scratching his neck. He had never been more confused in his life.
“I needed to protect her… for reasons you can see,” Jamila said quietly, reaching for Jaziel’s hand.
“But I need you too.” Her grip tightened weakly around his fingers. Jaziel flinched and brought his tormented gaze back to Jamila.
“I can’t give you the throne,” she admitted softly. “But I can seat you beside me.”
Her hand slipped from his. Jaziel caught it before it could fall. An affectionate smile crossed her lips as he sat down on the bench beside her. She adjusted once more to face him more easily.
“I could use your help.” Her eyes looked painfully tired now, though she still managed to squeeze his hand once more.
Jaziel bit the inside of his lip and looked toward her, then toward the child, before finally meeting his sister’s gaze once more. She looked so young. He had been raised for this position but Jamila had not. He exhaled slowly and dragged a free hand through his hair. If he refused, someone else would step into his place. Someone crueler. Less trustworthy.
This wasn’t Jamila stealing cookies from the kitchen and hiding them beneath her bed. She gave birth to a child with a Thornblood. Gildan wasn’t ready for something like this. If anyone discovered what Shani truly was… Gods only knew what they would demand.
He sighed once more. He needed to protect them. Protect her. He couldn’t let anything happen to his sun.
“I will try.”
Jamila looked up at him, her smile weary but warm despite everything. Jaziel returned it faintly, strained and fleeting.
“Thank you… Jaz…” she mumbled, resting her head against his shoulder. He rested his head gently against hers. Silence filled the chamber for a heartbeat.
“Hey, Jaz… can I ask one more favor?” His head shot up, his anxiety spiking. What was it now? Did she have another lover hidden somewhere? Perhaps a whole family across the sea he didn’t know about. She was truly greedy sometimes. He sighed, mentally prepping himself for all the possibilities.
“Yes…?” he asked hesitantly.
“C… Could you call a physician? I feel…”
She went quiet. Jaziel’s eyes widened as he caught her before she could tumble from the bench. He pulled her closer as his heart thundered.
“Milady?!” Nimue shouted.
Wrong title, but that could wait.
“Jam?” he said, his voice trembling. He shook her shoulder but she didn’t so much as stir. She was cold. Too cold. And why was the smell of blood so much stronger?
His stomach dropped. Slowly, he looked her over.
Her shift was soaked red with blood.
He began to tremble, but he lifted his sister easily into his arms and stood.
“Take care of the princess!” he barked at Nimue, already moving toward the door. He tore out of the steam-filled room and toward the medical quarters as quickly as he could. He didn’t care that people were watching or gasping at the sight.
Tears streamed down his face.
She wanted his help?
Fine. She had it.
He would protect them. Defend them. Kill for them, if he had to. He would never ask about the father again. He would even try to love the little princess, Thornblood or not.
But Jamila had to live.
She had to.
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