Pale light clung to the ridges, the dimming sun draped across the horizon like a fading banner. Alexander paused just outside the mouth, tugging off one glove as he exhaled slowly. Beside him, Jingyi tilted her head toward the sky, eyes half-lidded, as though enjoying the last vestiges of the day.
A breeze lifted, carrying her scent to him—deeper now, sweeter at the edges. The Alpha inside him stirred toward the Omega shifting within her. Not yet Heat, but close. A Kindling. His body registered it before his mind did. Muscles coiled, breath deepened. Every part of him attuned to that subtle call. It would be natural to respond. To offer. To step closer, steady, claim. But the memory of her fleeing—the sharp, pained sound of her limping run—was more powerful than any instinct.
She hadn’t asked for help. And Alexander had no intention of stealing that choice from her.
So he stood still. If she needed him, if she wanted him, he would be there. But until then, he would give her the one thing few Alphas ever offered an Omega on the cusp of vulnerability.
Space.
Before he could speak again, rapid hoofbeats sounded on the path below. A moment later, Ulrik came into view, riding hard up the slope on a grey gelding, cloak streaming behind him. He didn’t dismount, only pulled the reins hard, his horse skidding across the gravel-covered earth.
His gaze found Jingyi immediately. “It’s Annett. The babe’s coming. Lord Fortier’s man wanted to show off his skills, but my daughter will have no one but you, Princess.”
Jingyi was already moving toward the horse. “Take me to her.”
Alexander reached for her wrist. “I’ll take you. We leave now.”
She blinked but didn’t pull away.
They rode hard through the falling dark. JingYi’s weight pressed against his back, her arms locked around his waist, her breath a warm brush against his neck with each jolting stride. Ulrik’s horse pounded behind.
The village emerged below, lanterns like fallen stars in the valley. One cottage blazed brighter than the rest, shadows moving urgently behind the windows. A small, tense crowd had gathered outside. At its edge stood Bertrand and Hevlan, their postures stiff.
Ulrik dismounted and glared at them. “I told you. My daughter wants the princess. No one else.”
Hevlan sputtered, “This is highly irregular. A delicate female condition requires a certified?—”
“She wantsher,” Ulrik repeated, jerking his chin toward JingYi. Alexander caught the look as he dismounted and lifted her down.
The crowd parted, their eyes on her. Before she stepped away, she looked at Ulrik and squeezed his hand.
“I’ll do everything I can,” she said. “I promise.”
The gruff man nodded, pale and sweating. Jingyi turned and crossed to the entrance. Her limp was pronounced after the brutal ride, but her stride didn’t falter. The cluster of women parted for her. The door shut, sealing her inside with the struggle.
Alexander remained. A sea of fear and expectation swelled around him. They glanced his way, seeking reassurance, but he had none to give.
He had commanded soldiers, held borders, treated with kings. But here, that kind of strength was useless. Here, he was powerless.
So he did the only thing left, the hardest thing for a man of action:
He waited for her.
CHAPTER 31
JINGYI
Annett was half-sprawled on her bed—head lolling, chest rising shallow and fast, belly tight with strain. Her face had gone pale, lips blue at the corners. The skin around her mouth twitched with each contraction. JingYi could tell even without touching that she was losing too much blood.
A woman turned as she entered, wringing a damp cloth with shaking hands. JingYi had seen her before, the mother of the boy whose scraped knee she treated—Jaana.
“She was fine before, Princess,” the woman stammered. “She wanted to sit outside and take in a bit of air. She was just rising when she started bleeding down her legs. Drenched her nightgown red, she did.”
JingYi’s gaze went to the blood seeping into the bedding, thick and steady. “How long since the contractions started?”
“An hour, maybe a bit more. The pains are sharp, but irregular.”
JingYi stepped closer, rolling up her sleeves. “Bring me hot water and fresh linens.”