Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter XL - Bloodlines (Lucian's POV)

A boy!

"A son, my lord," said the old dame insouciantly, as if I had not already spied the evidence for myself — nestled betwixt my son's kicking legs.

I moved closer to the midwife's side, peering over her hunched shoulder, in a disoriented daze and watched as she measured a four fingered length of the babe's umbilical chord before severing it directly. Once my son had been bathed, in an odd concoction of milk and wine, he was dried and swaddled afore being swiftly conveyed to his grandmother's welcoming arms.

His tiny, red face, previously mottled in vociferous discontent, was now much altered; he lay peacefully enfolded against Anne's heart as she patted his little back. I betook myself swiftly to Aria's side to kiss her corrugated brow, for she was still in extreme discomfit.

Unexpectedly, she gasped and doubled over. My arms flew at once to her shoulders in a stunning display of animal reflex as my son, perhaps sensing his mother's pain, began squalling anew.

Alice, who had since moved to the kettle to rinse her bloodied linens, turned immediately and rushed over with an impassive frown marring her leathery skin.

"I believe our work is only half-way complete." There was finally a hint of excitement in my mother's statement, however, it did not soothe me; the second child's heartbeat had begun to grow faint.

"Work quickly, woman," I demanded of Alice. "The second babe has grown weak."

The old woman's eyes grew wide with surprise as she considered my meaning, her shrewd, milky gaze becoming decidedly ill at ease. There was an edge of disquiet steeling into her demeanor the while I studied her impatiently. She was doubtless wondering how it was that I knew what I claimed to.

How indeed.

"Now, mistress!" My mother's voice had also become vexed, but I understood that she, furthermore, wished to divert the old woman from the unsettled thoughts that I had spawned, with my irascible temper. And my worriment had like as not spawned hers.

Whatever she thought was like enough distressing to her; but the truth was far more terrible. She crossed herself again and busied those same hands with her patient after scooting an inch away from me.

As if that meager distance can afford you added safety. Had she not then sprung into action, I'd have throttled her for her already infuriating, and protracted, suspension of mind.

For the nonce all was much the same as before, save for the first-born's wailing. He lay straining against his swaddling, the young apprentice clutching her charge in a diffident grasp. As the women continued their placid encouragements, Aria pushed the second babe piecemeal from her straining body. She looked ready to faint from exhaustion.

At length the last-born slid fully from the warmth of its nest, white-washed and bloody with the mired remnants of the womb still glistening like a film of scum over its mottled flesh. The midwife wasted no time in hooking her crooked finger into the child's mouth and clearing away the mucus from its throat. That done, the babe was finally able to yowl its energetic greeting. I barely noticed the child for my eyes were keenly plastered to Aria, soiled with the remnants of her vigorous efforts.

Once the girl, Sarah, had cleaned the gore from Aria's flesh, as she sat weakly atop that odd-looking stool, I lifted her immediately into my arms and carried her to our bed. She was by now enervated and limp. I placed her gently onto the mattress, pulling up the counterpane as I kissed her flushed lips firmly with all the fidelity and admiration I could condense into that small and pitifully deficient contact. I noticed with satisfaction that the bed had since been stripped, perhaps when I had been exiled to the hearth, and now bore the welcoming scent of fresh linen.