Ella went rigid at the thought of this dark god giving her daughter anything.

"No," she gasped, trying to push herself away from him, but struggling to move.

"Fear not, moon daughter," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I do not give curses to my chosen ones—only gifts."

Shadows began to swirl in his hand. Her eyes widened as they coalesced into an orb of smoke and shade.

"No!" she protested, her voice breathless.

"Careful, girl," he growled, stepping closer and bending over her. "If you anger me, I will not be so eager to bestow my gift. You wouldn't risk my ire for your life instead of a blessing for hers, would you?"

She cringed, unsure what to do—unsure which would be worse.

The God of Darkness extended his hand over her, and shadows spilled from his fingers, surrounding her.

"A blessing," he murmured, "for the first granddaughter of the moon from her benefactor. Long may she live, dwelling in darkness as well as light."

The shadows, when they touched her, were soft—gentler than she imagined, like velvet or mist. As she breathed, they flowed into her through her nose and mouth. She gasped, worried, but the smoke tasted faintly of mint and cool mornings, soothing her aching throat.

She looked up at the god in wonder, tilting her head.

"See?" he said softly. "Not all that dwells in darkness is wicked."

He smiled—a wayward, vicious thing—and bowed before disappearing.

She blinked, and her room was real again.

"Ella?" Cora said, abruptly appearing before her, shining a light in her eyes.

"Ella!" Sinclair gasped beside her. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her thoughts. "Are you—" He spun to Cora. "Is she all right?!"

"I'm—um, I'm fine," she murmured.

"Your eyes," Cora said, dropping her flashlight and taking Ella's face in her hands, horror etched on her features. "Ella, they went all black. You were frozen."

Ella nodded, taking a deep breath; the scent of mint lingered. Exhaling, she ran her hands over her stomach, checking her bond with her daughter.

It was still there. Her daughter was strong, and ready to be born.

"It's okay," she said, nodding to her sister and mate. "It—um—" She hesitated, torn between explaining and the feeling of another contraction. "It was…really weird, but right now?" She shook her head frantically. "I think we need to push."

Cora instantly switched to doctor mode, moving to position herself between Ella's knees. "All right, Ella," she said, lowering Ella onto her back. "When you're ready, push."

Sinclair growled beside her. Even as a contraction seized her, she turned to him, pressing her eyes shut, sending her emotions—fear, shock, and conviction that she and the baby were okay—down their bond.

"All right," he said softly, sitting up and placing his hands on her shoulders. "Let's do this."

With her mate behind her and her sister ready, she pushed with all her might.

Half an hour later, their baby girl was born.

Tears streamed down Ella's face as Cora placed the baby in her arms. She reached out to stroke the tiny fingers and perfect nose. The baby cried and shook her head, making Ella laugh as she wiped her tears.

"She's perfect," Sinclair breathed, peering over her shoulder.

"She really is," Ella said between gasps. "Oh god, she's so cute—"

Cora laughed, sitting beside her and stroking the baby's head. They were quiet for a moment as Ella held her child close.

"She's precious," Cora murmured reverently. "And I'm going to be her favorite aunt."

"Only aunt," Sinclair murmured dryly.

"Even if she had sixty," Cora cooed, tapping the baby's belly. "I'd be the best." She leaned forward, kissing Ella's cheek. "I'll give you two a couple of minutes, all right? Go break the news to the drunk ones in there."

Ella kissed her sister, who scrunched her nose and left with the nurses. Everyone had done a wonderful job; Ella was grateful. But all she could do was stare at her perfect little girl.

She leaned against Sinclair, who wrapped his arms around her.

"She looks just like you, Ella," he breathed, fascinated.

"What?!" Ella protested, shocked. "Dominic, she's all scrunchy—"

He laughed. "Newborn scrunch aside—her features and the shape of her face? Rafe is all me, but Ella…this one is you."

"Little baby girl," she murmured, rocking her and sending love and comfort down their bond. She felt the tumult of the baby's emotions—happy to be close, but cold and frightened. The baby cried softly, and Ella cuddled her close, thinking how hard it must be to be brand new to the world. She reassured the baby that she was all right. She kissed her forehead, already loving her beyond measure.

Outside the palace windows, they heard the crowd cheer as the announcement was made—their princess was born, safe and sound. They had started gathering the previous night, eager to be the first to see her. Ella had peeked out earlier and been shocked by the masses waiting.

"I can't say their enthusiasm is misplaced," Sinclair sighed. "She's a really good baby."

"Hear that, baby?" Ella murmured, smiling. "They're cheering for you!"

They shared a quiet moment before Sinclair stroked her hair. "Ella," he said quietly, worry returning to his voice. "What…what happened? Earlier, when you—"

She shook her head. She knew exactly what he meant. Turning to face him, she gave him a quick summary of her experience, knowing they only had a few minutes before the doctors returned, Rafe arrived, and their responsibilities resumed.

Her mate went pale as she told him how the Dark God had taken her to another realm, given their daughter a gift, and assured her it was a blessing, not a curse.

"But from the Dark God," Sinclair murmured, shaking his head, dread heavy in his voice, "who knows what a blessing is to him."

"I know," she said softly, a little mournfully. "But honestly, Sinclair, the gift…it didn't feel bad. He was angry at Mom for keeping secrets from him for all these years, but I didn't get the impression, from the gift itself, that he wanted to hurt the baby or use it for vengeance."

"Then what did it feel like?" he asked, confused.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "It felt…like a great deal like an open door." The words surprised her; they seemed nonsensical, yet somehow right.

Still, looking at her baby girl, anxiety twisted her stomach, considering all the implications for her future.