A/N
Dedicating this part to my best friend who seems to be thoroughly enjoying this book.
*****
An eerie quiet falls over the adults in the room as they realize the queen is dead. Died of complications during the birth of her seventh child, the king is left gripping his queen's cold, bloodless hand. He can only sink to his knees in defeat, all the while still clutching the porcelain hand of the love of his life. Tears flowing from the widowed eyes of a haunted ruler as silently and steadily as wine into crystal, the room is curtained by black tragedy.
The newborn baby, meanwhile, cries in the arms of a nervous midwife. The baleful infant is bloated and red, born with the ominous mark of bad blood. Every adult in the room knows of the inklings whispered throughout the palace that the queen may have been involved with an archduke. The king had adamantly trusted in his queen until now... now he is beginning to feel doubt. His eyes harden as he glares at the bloody baby.
The midwife clutches the infant tighter to her chest as she sees anger enter the king's expression. It's all the midwife can do not to turn and flee with the child, for fear of rash violence from the freshly wounded king. He rises to his feet, without warning-- like a quiet specter-- and approaches the midwife slowly.
"May I hold her, Farrah?"
The midwife glances down at the baby and then immediately back up at the king.
"Milord, she's in very delicate health." Farrah does not relinquish the baby.
"Were not all of my children once infantile, Farrah?" the king extends his arms and the midwife is still meek to abnegate the king's newest child.
"This one especially is very fragile, your majesty," the midwife insists.
"I want to hold my daughter, Farrah." The king's voice is hollow, his face unreadable.
The midwife swallows hard. Reluctantly, she bequeathes the squirming baby into his grasp. She watches the king apprehensively, half expecting him to throw her down, by the way he looks at her. The baby screams when she leaves the arms of the midwife, but she is calmer now in the strong grip of the king.
The baby is swaddled in a rich purple blanket and her face and body wiped clean by a wet linen cloth. The king analyzes the baby for signs of illegitimacy, several red flags immediately noticeable. It is evident from the first glance that she was not begotten by him. The infant's wispy tufts of onyx hair in no way resemble the king's fiery red hair or her mother's ashy blonde. Even so, her face in no way resembles his own-- like all six children before her do-- and she bears the pointed ears of her mother but this in no way resembles his own features.
"Her name will be Aelfgift Rainleslao FitzAseneth."
"That is a strange name--" the midwife begins disapprovingly.
"It is nicer than Bastard of Ethergaard-- is it not?" the king cuts in icily.
Farrah falls silent.
"She will live in the servant wing of the palace. And she will be raised as a servant-- she will not know any extravagance or riches in her lifetime. To whomsoever becomes acquainted with raising the child, I will send, but meager, provisions. She is not to be treated as or recognized as a princess or of the noble Ethergaardian bloodline. The public will be notified of the tragedy that's happened here, tonight-- the queen and a premature prince died in childbirth."
The king passes Aelfgift into the midwife's arms, turns, and stalks away-- closely followed by his men. The baby's cries deepen as the king emancipates her, placing her into the temporary care of the midwife. Farrah's young assistant turns to look between her and the baby.
"What are you going to do, Farrah?" she asks with round eyes.
"I'm going to do exactly as the king says," the midwife murmurs sadly. "But first thing is first, this baby needs treatment."
"I'll go get the leeches--"
"Catalina," Farrah chastises her, "the leeches have never once healed an infant in any of my records--not as far back as my great-great-grandmother has recorded. The baby needs herbs. Go fetch my supply-- please-- and be quick if you can."
"Yes, milady," Catalina curtsies before disappearing behind a threadbare curtain.
"Aelfgift," Farrah scoffs. "The Archduke of Gearthan, the lord involved with your mother and whom you carry the name Rainleslao, may be interested in your-- oh, don't cry, milove," Farrah speaks softly to the baby. "You'll tire out your throat. That's it, I'm here, darling."
Aelfgift's crying gradually lull's into soft fussing. She snuggles into Farrah's arms uncomfortably, arms and legs falling in all directions, as babies do. The midwife tilts her head to look at Aelfgift better while the baby settles again. Her nose, Farah notices, is a rather odd shape and her ears come to the slightest point at the top.
Aelfgift may not be such an uncalled-for name after all, but Farah is already thinking of what to rename the baby-- what would the king care anyways, he just blatantly disowned her. Seeing herself unfit to come up with a cute or creative name, Farrah simply begins calling the baby December because today is December the fifth.
December Fifth.
Aseneth was the name of her mother, Farrah recalls. She should like to keep Aseneth in the baby's name without the demarcation of illegitimacy.
December Fifth Aseneth.
Farrah nods to herself. This is the name the baby shall be raised with.
"December," Farrah says softly. "That's what I'm going to call you. I may even take you home to meet my family until you're better. I have a son, young enough to nurse you with him. His name is Peter, after his father."
"Here you are, milady," Catalina returns with a basket of assorted herbs. "I added mint and basil, as well, in case you might have wanted it."
"Thank you," Farrah passes the wriggling baby into Catalina's hands, beginning at once to pick through the herbs.
"Who's going to raise the babe?" Catalina coos to the baby, who is now caterwauling balefully.
"If no one takes her, perhaps I will," Farrah pauses. "But my husband was lost during the war with the South Kingdom. I'd prefer the princess to have a more equipped family to care for her."
"The king said--"
"No mind what he said. She is a princess whether he treats her like one or not."
❤️Don't forget to comment and vote!❤️
