I groan as I wake, but keep my eyes closed. Not yet. It feels like I only closed them ten minutes ago—my poor eyeballs need more rest.

Instead, I take a moment to feel my body, checking in with myself, noting what hurts and what feels good. I'm surprised to find remnants of my mother's gift flowing through me—what feels like sparkling tendrils of sunlight working their way through my limbs, healing me. I smile, thinking of my mother giving me something that endures years after her death.

She was a mother goddess, a mother to us all, not just me. But as my mother, it's wonderful to have…a piece of her.

A baby cry pierces the quiet, and my eyes snap open, searching for my son. I sit up, hand to my head, and look around blearily. My gaze is immediately drawn—unsurprisingly—to the huge werewolf standing across the room, bouncing a small bundle of blankets. I smile at my mate's back and quickly climb out of bed, moving toward him.

Sinclair hears me and turns, our little boy still fussing in his arms.

"Has he been crying long?" I ask, yawning, reaching for my child. Sinclair transfers him to me, and I feel a thrill at having my baby back.

"No," Sinclair replies, smiling. "He's been sleeping well—he just started crying. Do you think he's hungry?"

I shrug and look up at him. "Probably. I know I am."

Together, we carry Rafe back to bed. I climb in, rearranging my top so Rafe can feed. Sinclair watches quietly as I nurse Rafe, and I sigh with relief as he latches on and begins to suckle. I watch him for a moment, instinctively checking our bond and receiving a surge of happiness and satisfaction in return.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to me.

"Do you still have a bond with him?" I ask Sinclair, my eyes widening.

He nods easily, his eyes still on the child.

"Do you still have one with your father?" I press, curious. This brings his gaze to mine, and he frowns.

"I have…a bond with my father, certainly," Sinclair responds. "But, as you grow, the bond between parents and children fades. Once a child can communicate their needs, it's no longer necessary."

My heart breaks a little, and Sinclair clicks his tongue, cupping my cheek when he sees tears welling in my eyes.

"I don't want to lose my bond with my child," I say, my voice trembling. "I can't bear the thought."

"You won't," my mate assures me, shaking his head. "It just…changes. You and Rafe will always be connected, just differently. Besides, when he grows up and meets his mate, do you really want to feel everything he feels?" Sinclair raises an eyebrow and smirks.

I narrow my eyes at Sinclair, then look down at my baby. "No mates for you, Rafe," I scold. "You're Mama's boy, forever. I'm keeping you."

Sinclair laughs. "You'll feel differently when he's a big, hulking teenage wolf stinking up the house."

"No," I murmur, leaning down to kiss my baby's head. "I'm going to raise him to be a nice, clean nerd, so no one likes him, and I get to keep him. No one will be good enough for him anyway."

"All right," Sinclair murmurs, shifting closer and lying down beside me, closing his eyes. "Whatever you say, trouble." I smile at him, watching him drift off to sleep as the sunlight brightens at the edges of the curtains. I suspect he stayed up all night rocking the baby to let me sleep. It's the least I can do to let him rest.

Rafe falls asleep soon after finishing, his warm body pressed against mine. I begin to drift off as well. About an hour later, a knock comes at the door, waking me. I hesitate, unsure what to expect, but as I approach the door, it creaks open slightly, revealing someone peeking in.

"Oh, Dr. Hank!" I whisper, cheerfully waving him forward. "Come in!"

He enters, smiling warmly and glancing at Sinclair asleep in the bed. "How are you, Ella?" he asks. He approaches and looks down at the baby, stroking his cheek.

"We're doing well, I think," I reply, yawning widely. "He's been surprisingly peaceful. Is that…normal?"

"It's not abnormal," Hank says, shrugging. "Perhaps just lucky. The ambulance is outside waiting—are you ready to go to the hospital for your checkup?"

I nod eagerly, feeling more awake. After a quick discussion, I agree to meet Hank at the palace entrance in a few minutes, after waking Sinclair. He nods and leaves to inform the guards and paramedics. Then, I move to the wolf sleeping in the king's bed.

"Dominic," I whisper, lightly running a hand through his hair. "Wake up. Time to go."

"No," he murmurs, rolling over with a groan. "I'm going to be king anyway. This is my bed. I'll just…stay here until the coronation."

I laugh, surprised I hadn't thought of that myself. I knew these were the royal chambers, but all I considered was that they were the dead prince's bedrooms…not that they could one day be mine. Looking around, I have mixed feelings. While I like the idea of always having access to the room where my son was born…

The idea of living here, in this place of violence?

Of being queen of a world torn apart?

Of raising my son, and hopefully future children, in that world?

I bite my lip, suddenly anxious.

"Hey," Sinclair says, softly brushing my arm. "All right?"

"Yes," I say, smiling down at him, Rafe's warm body pressed against me. "Just…mom worries. I think I'll be having a lot of those for the rest of my life."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Sinclair murmurs, standing and pulling me close. "We're going to get it all sorted, Ella," he whispers, kissing my head.

I close my eyes, sighing, believing him but knowing that promise will be hard to keep.