I blink as realization hits me. If I hadn't gone through with the soul bargain with Simone, if she didn't have a piece of my power inside her, she'd already be dead. The strain would have killed them both.
I was so fucking selfish, siring a child on a mortal. Incredibly selfish.
Saraqael's golden gaze meets mine over Simone's body. “The strain has caused the placenta to be separated from the wall of the womb. That is what you are seeing.”
“Fix it.” It comes out in a snarl I can't help. “Fix her.”
“Asmodai.” Saraqael's tone is the same one he uses on Mike. “We are evaluating.”
Daniel's hand drifts lower, hovering near her hip. He frowns. Then frowns harder.
“There is something else.”
Simone's breath stutters. “What? What else?”
Daniel hesitates, glancing at me as though gauging how much truth I can absorb without breaking the manor in half. “The babe's horns have come in early.”
For a moment, no one speaks.
“Horns,” Simone repeats faintly.
“They're small.” Daniel's voice is careful. “But I cannot tell from this side of your skin whether they have hardened. Whether they are sharp.”
Sharp enough to cut her on the way out. He doesn't say it. He doesn't have to.
I sit down hard on the edge of the bed before my legs decide to do it for me.
“Az.” Simone's hand finds mine, ice-cold. “Az, look at me.”
I do.
Her chin is trembling, but her eyes are steel. “We're getting through this.”
“Yes.” I bring her knuckles to my mouth, pressing my lips against them so hard I taste copper. “Yes, little fairy. We are.”
Daniel takes one of the spare pillows and tucks it gently under her hip, tilting her on the mattress. “This will help slow the bleeding. Keep the pressure off.”
“What can I do?” Simone whispers.
“Breathe with me.” He sets his hand lightly on her sternum. “In. And out. Slow. Your body wants to fight. We need it to wait.”
She nods, her chest rising under his palm.
I keep her other hand in both of mine and watch her, useless.
Useless. I have legions at my command, more power than humans can even dream of. And I cannot do a single thing for the woman bleeding into our sheets.
“Az…” Simone murmurs shakily.
“Yes, my fairy?”
“Why do I feel like I’m grieving already?” she asks in a broken voice.
My fingers clench with pain, holding on to her with desperation. “I’m here, Simone,” I tell her. “And I would rather drown in your sorrow than let you face it alone.”
Her eyes well with tears as she nods, spilling over her already-soaked cheeks.
The air shifts. Saraqael straightens a fraction, and a heartbeat later, three figures stand near the doorway.
