Ronan

Chapter Forty-Three

A month had gone by.

Rosa was still getting a hand on the whole motherhood thing. Her house was finally full of life, just as she'd always wanted. A gang of mercenary demons had dropped by to fix a cot up in her bedroom whilst some witches had babyproofed the furniture.

In fact, for the first time ever, it was rare to see her house empty. Members of the allies were constantly stopping by to visit the girls. Ruby and Meg came by almost every day, whilst Evie tried to stop by with her own children as often as possible. Needless to say, there was never a dull minute—even if part of her prayed for one.

With her latest set of guests, she collapsed onto her sofa, a baby Realyn tucked up in her arms. Annaliese had gravitated directly to the cot, snatching up one of the girls—Elsie—as soon as she'd arrived. For a woman with such a renowned reputation for being ruthless and mean, she had a surprising knack for dealing with children.

Chronos loitered between the two women, refusing to hold a baby. He regarded the same way one would an alien—a foreign creature to tread very, extremely carefully around.

"You look tired," He noted, finally managing to pull his adoring gaze away from his wife.

Rosa rolled her eyes. "Thank you Chronos. Your kind words are always appreciated."

"Did he say tired?" Annaliese asked, bouncing Elsie idly. "He meant terrible."

"So maybe I'm a little tired, but it'll pass. Or I'll get used to all the changes."

"You're a mess."

Don't I know it.

She tried her hardest not to catch her gaze in the mirror in passing.

Her hair was a static mess, with dark bags framing her under eyes. Even her cheeks had started to look hollow.

"Speak for yourself," She shot back. "I'm doing great. Fine, actually. I'm having the time of my life."

"One child alone is a lot of work," Annaliese said. "Two is impossible."

Lord only knew how Annaliese had juggled two thrones and a young child. Rosa was gradually losing her marbles.

"I'm managing." By the skin of my teeth. "And I'll get better."

"This is an intervention," Chronos drawled.

"I don't need an intervention. I'm doing great. And I'm happy." Not a lie. "I'm genuinely, seriously happy." She was tired and a little beaten down—but her heart had never been so full before. She finally had purpose. Two golden little girls to take care of. "Look at me. I'm glowing."

"I think that might be sweat," Annaliese said, nose wrinkling. "When was the last time you showered?"

"I shower daily."

Because I have to.

Baby sick and other such substances had become a fact of life.

Chronos guffawed, adding, "What my wife is trying to say is you need more help."

"I'm being helped. I've taken loads of help."

It was hard to wrap her head around it.

For a century and a half, she'd done almost everything alone. But now she had an endless crowd of people offering to lend a helping hand. Perhaps she had been a little stingy with how much help she accepted—but she couldn't help it. This was how she was wired. She didn't trust that these things wouldn't be snatched away.

"You're taking too much on at once," Annaliese argued. "Raising a child means having the right support system. Letting people coddle and coo at your girls isn't accepting help. You need someone to help you keep this place clean and functioning. Someone else to wake up when the girls wake you up at night. You're doing too much at once."