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“Nay,” I breathed, even as I began to stroke her stomach, as if that would help. “Lass, ‘tis too early. We’re still a day away from the stones.”

“I am sorry,” she whimpered, trying to roll away to curl up again. “I should not have been so greedy…”

Oh, gods below, was this a result of that claiming? Had I done this?

“Dkaar, did I hurt ye? Did I hurt the bairn?” I was near frantic. “Tell me! Did I hurt ye?”

“Nay, but I think—” She whimpered as another contraction tightened all her muscles and she panted through it.

Cursing myself, I crawled backward from the tent and kicked the fire back to life, tossing wood into it without regard for safety. Then I went back in to scoop her up.

“What?” I barked, not caring how loud I was being when I carried her out to stand near the heat source. “What is it, Cataline?” My voice cracked with desperation, sorrow. “Please, gods, tell me.”

Her eyes were still shut, her forehead pressed against my shoulder.

“When I was pregnant with Ewan, the midwife told me that sometimes a man’s seed could trigger labor. Sort of…”

She moaned, squirming in my hold. “A circle. The father’s seed begins the pregnancy, and it can end it as well.”

Oh fook, fook, fook! Did the wisdom hold for an orc’s seed as well?

“I’m sorry, lass, I had nae idea⁠—”

“‘Tis what I wanted.” She tipped her head back and finally met my gaze. There were tears in her eyes, and my heart broke.

“I wanted it—wanted you so badly.”

My hands were shaking with what I realized was fear as I slowly lowered her feet to the ground, holding tightly onto her sides, feeling the way her body fought to divest itself of this burden.

“Dinnae cry, love,” I rasped, swallowing my terror. “We can do this. A wee bairn—how much trouble can he cause?”

Her harsh bark of laughter sounded hopeless, but she lifted her arms to trustingly wrap them around my neck.

“I think he is about to cause quite a lot of trouble. But I am too stubborn to die.”

“Thank fook,” I prayed. “What do ye need me to do?”

“Just…”

Another contraction hit, and she pressed her forehead to my chest again, panting her way through it.

“Just be here for me.”

“Always,” I choked. “By Palton’s Spear, Cataline, always.”

My vow was sorely tested that night.

Cataline was more comfortable standing through the contractions, so as they grew closer together, I held her upright while she swayed back and forth and moaned. In between, she lectured me on what to expect, and she paced, often holding onto me, while I counted: the hours past midnight, the minutes between contractions, and my prayers to the gods.

She assured me labor was progressing quickly, but I swear I’ve never spent a night as long as those interminable hours of darkness. I could tell she was keeping her cries and moans swallowed down, for fear of waking Ewan. As much as I wanted to tell her to let loose, I also knew I couldn’t handle his questions and fear.

Best for him to sleep through this.

Toward the end, I wished Cataline could have slept through this. Her moans were heart-wrenching, and I would have done anything I could to take the pain from her.

Torvor’s Hammer, she was a brave, stubborn, perfect lass. And even in the midst of such agony, still the most beautiful female I’d known.

I knew ‘twas time when her moans turned guttural, and she sank slowly to her knees, pushing down on the top of her stomach as if that would help force the bairn out.