Then Master Gardener Ash appears, his usual calm replaced by barely controlled panic. "My lord, the propagation chambers... nothing is taking root. The cuttings that were thriving yesterday are withering. It's as if the very soil has forgotten how to nurture new life."
Finally, Lady Rosemary seeks audience, her ancient features tight with confusion. "The fertility charms have gone cold, my lord. Every blessing circle, every growth enchantment—all of it dormant. I've never seen anything like it."
I watch this parade of concerned courtiers, noting how they avoid meeting Thorian's eyes. How their formal addresses carry undercurrents of something between fear and accusation. How they look at our daughter like she represents both miracle and catastrophe.
"Thorian," I say quietly when we're alone again. "What did you do?"
He's silent for so long I think he won't answer. When he finally speaks, his voice carries the weight of mountains.
"I saved you."
"At what cost?"
Another silence. Our daughter stirs in his arms, making soft sounds that cause fresh flowers to bloom across the chamber floor. The contrast between her innocent magic and the growing dread in my chest is almost too much to bear.
"Tell me," I demand.
"I transferred my fertility magic to stabilize your condition during birth." Each word sounds like it's being pulled from his chest with pliers. "All of it. Eight centuries of accumulated power, the core of what makes me who I am."
The admission hits like cold water. "And?"
"And because court magic is interconnected, my sterility is spreading to every Fae under my protection." His voice grows quieter. "Within days, the entire Vine Court will be incapable of reproduction. One generation, and we fade into nothing."
I stare at him—really stare—trying to process the magnitude of what he's telling me. Hundreds of Fae. Thousands, counting the outer settlements. All condemned to extinction because their king chose his mate's survival over their future.
"How many?" The question comes out as a whisper.
"Currently? Perhaps fifteen hundred in the immediate court. Five thousand in the broader territories." His hands tighten protectively around our daughter. "All of them now facing a future without children, without the next generation that would carry our culture forward."
Fifteen hundred lives. Five thousand futures. All sacrificed for one human woman and her child.
The weight of it should crush me. Should make me collapse under the guilt of being worth such devastating loss. Instead, I feel something else entirely—a clarity so sharp it cuts through every other consideration.
"There's a way to fix this, isn't there?"
His entire body goes rigid. "Maya?—"
"There's a way to restore their fertility. To undo what you did." I can see the truth in his face, in the way he won't meet my eyes. "Tell me."
"It's not an option."
"Tell me anyway."
He looks down at our daughter, who's watching us with those impossible eyes that seem far too knowing for someone minutes old. When he speaks, his voice is barely audible.
"Divine sacrifice. If you gave up your goddess enhancement voluntarily, channeling all that power back into the court's magical foundation... it would restore everyone's fertility instantly."
"And the cost to me?"
"You'd return to normal human biology. Mortal lifespan, mortal limitations. We'd have perhaps sixty years together instead of centuries." His voice breaks slightly. "You'd age and die while I remain unchanged."
Sixty years. Against the eternal extinction of an entire court.
It should be an impossible choice, but sitting here with our daughter in my arms, surrounded by the evidence of Thorian's devastating love, the answer feels inevitable.
"How long do they have?" I ask.
"Without intervention? The sterility will be permanent within forty-eight hours. After that, even divine sacrifice couldn't reverse it."
