I try to push myself up, ignoring the flare of pain across my ribs. "I need to?—"
"You need to lie still and recover," she interrupts, her hand on my chest gently but firmly pushing me back onto the pillows. "The kingdom will not fall because you take a few days to heal."
The authority in her voice, the calm competence in her manner, brings a smile to my lips despite the pain. "You've been ruling in my stead, haven't you?"
A blush colors her cheeks. "Someone had to. Callum has been advising me, but yes, I've been making the necessary decisions." Her chin lifts slightly, a familiar gesture of defiance. "Do you object?"
"Object?" I capture her hand, bringing it to my lips. "I'm proud of you. You're every inch the queen I knew you could be."
Her expression softens, the worry she's been hiding breaking through her composed exterior. "I thought I might lose you," she whispers. "When you collapsed in the hall, there was so much blood..."
"It would take more than a minor lord with delusions of grandeur to separate me from you," I assure her, though the pallor of her face tells me my injury was more serious than I'm acknowledging. "Besides, I couldn't leave you to rule alone. You'd probably institute reforms that make me look like a tyrant by comparison."
She laughs, a sound of genuine relief. "Perhaps. I've already ordered compensation for the families affected by the southern village attack, and arranged for rebuilding to begin immediately."
"See? A far kinder ruler than I." I tug her hand, urging her closer. "Come here. I need to hold you."
"The physician said?—"
"Damn the physician. I need my wife in my arms."
She hesitates, then carefully settles beside me on the bed, mindful of my bandaged torso. I pull her against my uninjuredside, breathing in the scent of her hair, reassuring myself that she's truly safe.
"When I saw Aiden moving toward you with that sword," I murmur into her hair, "I've never known fear like that. Not in all my years of battle."
"That's how I felt when you stepped in front of his blade," she admits, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest, careful to avoid my wound. "As if my heart had stopped beating."
"Because you love me," I say, still marveling at the reality of those words.
"Because I love you." She props herself up on her elbow, looking down at me with an expression that combines tenderness and exasperation. "Though I'm beginning to think loving you will be the death of me. My heart can't take watching you nearly die for me again."
"I can't promise not to protect you," I tell her honestly. "It's as natural as breathing to me."
"I know." She sighs, settling back against me. "Just as I can't promise not to stand at your side when danger threatens. We'll have to find a compromise."
"We will," I agree, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We have a lifetime to figure it out."
We lie in comfortable silence for a while, the simple pleasure of being together, alive and safe, enough for the moment. Eventually, Fiona speaks again, her voice hesitant.
"There's something else I need to tell you."
The uncertainty in her tone immediately puts me on alert. "What is it? Is there more trouble from the eastern lords?"
"No, nothing like that." She takes a deep breath, then says in a rush, "I haven't bled this month. Or last month. The physician thinks... he says I might be with child."
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. A child. My child. Our child. The ultimate unionof our bloodlines, the living embodiment of what began as conquest and transformed into love.
"Lachlan?" She sounds worried, perhaps misinterpreting my silence. "Are you... are you pleased?"
I capture her face between my hands, turning her to look at me directly. "Pleased?" I repeat, my voice rough with emotion. "Fiona, you've given me everything I never knew I wanted—your heart, your trust, your love. And now a child?" I shake my head, overwhelmed. "There aren't words for what I feel."
The tension drains from her body, a smile breaking across her face like sunrise. "I wasn't sure. It's still early, and given how our marriage began..."
"Our child will know only love," I vow, my hand sliding to rest against her still-flat stomach. "Never fear, never uncertainty. Only the absolute certainty that they are wanted, cherished, protected."
"By both of us," she adds, her hand covering mine. "A new generation that unites our bloodlines, our kingdoms, our people."
The symbolism isn't lost on me—this child representing everything we've fought for, everything we've built from the ashes of conflict. A future neither of us could have imagined when I first stormed her castle, when she first glared at me with hatred burning in her eyes.
