Huh. Didn't see that coming.
The magic lets go, and suddenly I'm standing on solid ground again. Snow crunches under my boots. Cold air hits my lungs, sharp and clean. Overhead, the aurora is doing its thing, green and purple streaks across the sky.
We're back. Home.
The moment we materialize in the town square, elves pour out of every doorway and street corner. Dozens of them, their ethereal features sharp with concern and curiosity. They crowd around us, voices overlapping in a dozen languages I haven't heard in weeks.
"He's back!"
"Is that her?"
"The child is coming!"
Ella's terror evaporates the second her feet touch solid ground. She yanks herself out of Everett's grip, her jaw set, and plants herself between the gathering crowd and us like a tiny, furious shield.
"Move!" she shouts, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Lady with a baby here! Get out of the way!"
And, to my surprise, they actually listen.
Millennia-old elves, beings who've seen empires rise and crumble, actually step aside for this five-foot-nothing human woman. A few of them look genuinely chastised.
I'd probably laugh if Samantha wasn't about to rip my shirt in half.
Her head lifts from my shoulder, and despite the pain etched across her features, her eyes go wide. She's looking at everything. The buildings that seem to grow from ice and starlight. The aurora overhead. The elves with their impossible beauty. The magic that hums through every atom of this place.
"It's even more beautiful in person," she whispers, breathless.
Her words hit me right in the chest. I want to tell her this is her home now, that she belongs here with me, that I'll do whatever it takes to make sure she never regrets it. But I can't say any of that. Not yet. She has to decide for herself, in her own time.
For now, I just need to get her somewhere safe.
I move fast, carrying her through streets I've walked for centuries, past the workshop that never sleeps, past the stables where the reindeer are already stirring, sensing something momentous in the air. Elves trail behind us at a respectful distance, their voices a soft chorus of well-wishes and blessings.
My residence looms ahead, all warm light and solid stone, built into the side of a mountain that glitters with ice. The door swings open before I reach it, responding to my presence, my need.
Inside, it's warm. There's a fire going, furs on the furniture.
I carry Samantha straight to the bedroom, where the bed is massive and covered in blankets that smell like pine and winter. I set her down as gently as I can, and she immediately curls onto her side, breathing hard.
Ella's there instantly, brushing hair back from Samantha's face. "You're doing great, honey. Just keep breathing."
Everett appears in the doorway, then disappears just as quickly. "I'll find a midwife," he calls over his shoulder.
I kneel next to the bed and find her hand. She squeezes so hard I swear I feel something pop, but I don't care. If breaking my hand would help, I'd let her.
"Tell me what you need," I say.
"I need this to stop hurting," she gasps, then lets out a shaky laugh. "But I don't think that's an option."
Another contraction is coming. I can see it in the way she tenses up, the way her breathing goes shallow. I move closer, pressing my hand to her lower back and rubbing slow circles, just like she likes.
"Breathe," I coach, keeping my voice steady. "In through your nose. That's it. Now, out through your mouth. You're doing perfect, darlin'. Just like that."
She follows my lead, her breath evening out even as pain radiates through her. When the contraction finally releases, she goes limp against the pillows, exhausted.
Ella moves fast, getting Samantha settled, fixing the pillows, wiping her brow. She's got this fierce, no-nonsense way about her, and I'm suddenly really glad Samantha has her here.
The contractions don't let up. Each one is worse than the last. I stay right next to her, helping her breathe, whispering whatever encouragement I can think of. Magic shifts around us. Tiny gold lights drifting, settling on everything like slow-motion snow.
