A Kiss of Fate

Chapter 16

An agonizing scream rent through the infirmary chamber as Ayana arched in her bed, twisting and turning on the crumpled sheets. Her hands clenched the sides of the mattress, a terrible moan escaping her lips. Black spots danced before her eyes as icy blades of pain stabbed into her stomach. She wanted it to end—the pain which made spans seem like hours, and hours seem like days. She felt nothing else but the agony with no end.

Iezabel dabbed at her sweat bathed forehead with a wet cloth, brushing the red wisps of hair from her face. She hated to see Ayana in such pain, helpless to do anything but watch. Those tormented eyes wrenched at her heart. She looked so frail and delicate. Iezabel grasped her hand. “I’m here, my lady.”

The room was hidden in a semi-gloom, for Zelrine had put out most of the candles. There stood two beds other than the one occupied by Ayana, both empty. A metal tinged odor hung in the air—that of blood and sweat.

It was the twenty fourth day of Nuarel, the last month of winter. Many things had changed around the base. The rebels had started stockpiling weapons and laying traps all around the valley, as if they were preparing for something, but Iezabel knew not what it was.

It had happened in the fallen city. Iezabel lost track of how many hours had passed. Lady Ayana was exploring the ruins, trying to find clues of her ancestor. Iezabel was by her side as usual, along with their escort, Captain Zelrine. The morning had been cold, yet beautiful, with many flowers blossoming anew and spreading their sweet fragrance, signaling the end of winter and beginning of spring. Lady Ayana had bent down to examine a cracked fountain when her water broke. She insisted she felt fine, but Iezabel and Zelrine had wasted no time in taking her to the infirmary.

Iezabel raised her head when a soft knock echoed through the chamber. Zelroth stood awkwardly on the threshold, his countenance uncertain and nervous. “Is she alright? Is there anything I can do?”

Zelrine shot a murderous glare at her brother. “Yes, there is,” she said through her teeth. “Close the damned door and get lost!”

Zelroth flinched. “Sorry.” He carefully closed the door, his face burning red.

Iezabel started as another scream rang through the chamber, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She picked up the fan and started swinging it over Ayana’s panting face. How much longer?

Zelrine held a leather bottle near her mouth. “Drink some. It eases the pain.”

Ayana took a small sip before collapsing back onto the pillow. It was not water, nor was it liquor. It was like a brew of honey, with flavors of apple, grape, wild berry and many other unfamiliar fruits. It was unlike anything she had tasted before, but the strange liquid helped. It slowly coursed through her body, numbing the excruciating throb. “Thank you.”

Zelrine placed the bottle beside her leather armor on the bedside table—the armor which she had pulled off in a hurry as soon as they brought in Ayana. Her sword was lying near the foot of an adjacent bed, tossed aside in haste.

She felt Iezabel’s gaze on her. “You’ve done this before?”

“Only once.” Zelrine grimaced. “My sister-in-law. I was mostly a bystander…kind of like you.” She threw her a roguish grin.

Iezabel nodded, thanking the heavens for the Captain’s presence. She had never done anything like this, or even watched someone give birth for that matter. She barely remembered her life before Argent.

Ayana’s lips parted in a heart wrenching shriek as another contraction shot through her abdomen. It spasmed along her spine, pulling her to the brink of darkness. She gasped. “I feel it.”