"Oh, you know," Ivy waves her hand dismissively, "Council politics, border patrols, whether their swords are bigger than the Light Court generals'. The usual Alpha testosterone-fueled nonsense." She grins wickedly. "Though I must say, Emmett's sword does look rather substantial."
"Ivy!"
"What? I'm making observations. For purely academic purposes, of course."
Her ridiculous commentary keeps me distracted until another spell of nausea hits unexpectedly. My laughter cuts off abruptly as I press a hand to my mouth.
"Sera?" Ivy's amusement transforms to worry instantly. "Are you going to be sick again?"
I nod, unable to speak. Ivy takes my arm without hesitation, guiding me back toward the palace.
We barely make it to my chambers before I'm retching again, this time bringing up nothing but bitter bile. Ivy hovers anxiously nearby.
"Try to relax," she says when I finally slump back, exhausted. "I don’t think you should be throwing up that often.”
I try to breathe through my nose. "Stress is not helping. The prophecy, Asher, everything with Malakai..."
"A child of shadow and light," Ivy confirms. "Just as the prophecy foretold."
I close my eyes, overwhelmed. This child—this innocent life that hasn't even drawn its first breath—already carries the weight of centuries of prophecy, of court politics, of world-changing power.
"The prophecy speaks of a child that's neither Shadow or Light alone," Ivy says quietly, settling beside me. "A twilight designation. There's never been one before—not in recorded history. A child carrying both Alpha and Omega traits, shadow and light..." She trails off. "That kind of power, Sera. That kind of potential. That's why they're all so afraid."
The words send a chill through me even as my hand protectively covers my abdomen. Neither Alpha nor Omega. Something new. Something unprecedented.
And yet...
"My baby," I whisper, fierce protectiveness surging through me. I've never felt anything like it—this primal need to shield, to nurture, to fight for the tiny spark of life I'm harboring.
Joy bubbles up unexpectedly, breaking through the fear and shock. A laugh escapes me, half-sob, half-wonder, as I look up at Ivy with shining eyes.
"A baby, Ivy! Can you believe it? A tiny person with Malakai's darkness and my light." My mind races ahead, painting pictures of a child with golden eyes and shadow magic, small fingers reaching for the stars. "Will it have little shadows? Or maybe light magic? Or both?"
My hand doesn't leave my abdomen. "You're going to be so loved," I whisper to my unborn child. "So protected. So cherished."
I look up at Ivy, suddenly struck by an idea. "You'll be godmother. A real fairy godmother. You'll teach her—or him—all about magic and mischief and how to drive both courts absolutely mad."
I laugh at the thought, already picturing Ivy with a small child.
"You'll be perfect for it," I continue, squeezing her hand. "And we'll need someone like you—someone who understands both worlds but belongs to neither. Someone who can help this child navigate the prophecy, the politics, the pressure."
Ivy's eyes fill with tears, though she tries to mask her emotion with her usual flippant manner. "Well, obviously," she says, her voice betraying more feeling than intended. "Who else would teach your spawn the important things in life? Like how to make properly dramatic entrances and the fine art of insulting dignitaries without them realizing it until three days later?"
I laugh, the sound mingling with tears of joy. "Exactly what every royal twilight child needs to know."
But then reality intrudes, sobering me. "Malakai," I whisper, my hand instinctively moving to protect my abdomen. "What will he say? What will he do when he finds out?"
Ivy's expression grows serious. "That's the big question, isn't it?" She sits beside me. "The completed mating bond—it's not just emotions he can feel. Alphas can sense biological changes in their Omegas. Hormone shifts, scent changes, the life force of the growing child."
My scent spikes with fear. "How long do I have?"
"Maybe a week, two at most, before his Alpha instincts detect the changes," Ivy says gently. "And when an Alpha discovers his Omega is pregnant, especially a fated mate, the protective instincts become... overwhelming. Some Omegas describe it as being caged in velvet."
"But you detected it. How can he not already know?"
"Fairy senses work differently than Alpha senses—we read life force, not scent." Ivy tilts her head, considering. "And your light magic... it's doing something. Cocooning the new life, maybe. Muting the signals. It's not intentional, but your power is instinctively protective." She pauses. "It won't last. The further along you get, the more obvious the changes become—even masked, he won't miss a second heartbeat."
"So I have a window."
