Lady Asher's screams echoed through the dimly lit chambers of the southern palace, the sound waves reverberating off the stone walls. Sweat drenched her body, soaking through the linen sheets as she clung to the bedposts, her strength waning with each contraction. The midwives hovered around her, whispering words of encouragement, their hands steady and practiced as they guided her through the agony.

The air was thick with the scent of herbs—rosemary and lavender—mingling with the coppery tang of blood, a primal smell that signaled new life. King Ares paced outside the room, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. His footsteps echoed down the corridor as...