The midwife worked quietly in the dim morning light, stirring a small pot of porridge over the brazier. The scent of rice and crushed herbs mingled softly with the forest air. Outside the tent, the camp was still, with soldiers tending to mounts and the spirit kings circled around the tent. Inside, everything revolved around the still figure lying on the bed.
Vivianne hadn't opened her eyes for a day. Her breathing is even, her face calm, touched by faint glimmers of silver that sometimes flicker beneath her skin. Roxanne hadn't left her side once.
"She's just asleep, Your Grace," the midwife said gently, placing the steaming bowl beside her. "Her body is exhausted, but her pulse is strong. The baby's heart beats steady, as it should. Both are stable. Let her rest."
"I won't move from here," Roxanne murmured without looking up, brushing her fingers through Vivianne's hair. "Not until she wakes up."
