If the maids hadn’t caught her, Eugene would have collapsed right then and there. The pain was so intense it stole her breath away. The maids stood frozen, helpless, watching in shock as Eugene’s face turned an alarming shade of pale in an instant.
Eugene gripped the maid’s hand tightly, bracing herself against the pain. She tried to hold it in, enduring the agony for a moment longer. But then, as suddenly as it had come, the searing pain disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
“I’m fine now,” Eugene said, her voice shaky but steadying as she managed to release the maid’s hand. The maids hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, before slowly stepping back.
Eugene’s thoughts swirled as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. It doesn’t feel like the baby is moving around…
As her pregnancy progressed, she had grown accustomed to the baby’s movements—the quickening, as they called it—which had become stronger with time, sometimes even startling her with their intensity. But never before had she experienced such excruciating pain.
Could it be labor pains?
Her due date was still a few days away. Even the royal physician had confirmed that births rarely occurred exactly on schedule. As a result, the midwives and physicians had been on constant standby for days, and the tension in the palace was palpable, as everyone kept a close eye on Eugene.
Uneasy, Eugene shifted slightly, leaning back against the sofa in an attempt to calm herself. She gently placed a hand on her belly, as if trying to soothe the baby within.
But the baby remained still, not a hint of movement. Just as Eugene began to ease her mind, another contraction seized her lower abdomen—far more violent than before. It was like menstrual cramps, but dozens, no, hundreds of times more intense.
Gasping for breath, Eugene frantically raised her hand, her chest tightening in pain. She couldn’t find her voice, but the maid quickly understood and rushed out of the room.
Moments later, the pain vanished again—completely, almost miraculously. Eugene remembered hearing that labor contractions often came in cycles, with moments of relief between the waves of pain.
A strange mixture of emotions surged within her: excitement at the thought of finally meeting her baby, and a deep, primal fear of the difficult journey that lay ahead.
“Let’s move to the bedchamber. It seems labor has begun,” Eugene said.
The maids’ faces grew taut with tension. Without hesitation, Eugene began to make her way down the corridor toward the bedchamber. The maids followed closely behind her, moving swiftly and silently, like guides navigating treacherous terrain. Their eyes darted around sharply, staying alert for any disturbance that might arise.
Once Eugene entered the bedchamber, the royal physician and midwives arrived in a flurry of motion, their footsteps echoing through the room. Not long after, Dana entered as well, her face grim with concern. Marianne, who had arrived shortly after Dana, approached the steward standing just outside the door.
“Has His Majesty been informed?” she asked, her tone tight with worry.
“We’ve sent word,” the steward replied, nodding.
Marianne’s gaze hardened. “Until the prince is safely born, His Majesty must not come near this area. You know that, right?”
“Yes, arrangements have been made,” the steward confirmed.
***
The moment Kasser saw the signal flare in the distance, he mounted Abu and urged the horse forward, racing toward the fortress walls. It was rare for the warriors or soldiers to succeed in hunting a lark before the king’s arrival; they had been specifically trained not to throw themselves recklessly into the hunt. Their duty was to hold the line defensively until the king’s arrival, as fighting the particularly powerful larks that emerged during the desert’s active season always carried grave risks. Too many injuries could cripple the forces before long.
But today, as Kasser approached the fortress walls, the atmosphere was noticeably different. There were no battle cries, no urgency in the air, and no sign of the larks’ presence.
Slowing Abu’s pace, Kasser furrowed his brow as a warrior rushed to his side.
“Have you finished the hunt?” Kasser asked, his voice calm yet probing.
“No, Your Majesty,” the warrior replied, his expression tense. “A lark appeared in the desert, but it isn’t approaching the fortress.”
“It’s not approaching? Is it just one?”
“Yes, just one,” the warrior confirmed. “It’s keeping its distance.”
Kasser’s brows knitted together. This was an odd occurrence, one he had never heard of before. He urged Abu onward and ascended the fortress wall alongside the warrior. The people lined up along the battlements turned and bowed their heads respectfully as the king passed by.
Kasser directed his gaze toward the desert, following the direction the warriors were looking. As the warrior had said, a centipede-shaped lark could be seen in the distance. Kasser concentrated, his sharp eyes narrowing as he tried to sense the faint aura of the creature. It was distant, barely perceptible.
Frowning, Kasser observed the creature intently before murmuring under his breath, “That’s no lark.”
“Your Majesty?” the warrior asked, his confusion evident.
“It’s a Hwansu.”
“Pardon?”
The soldiers around them quickly turned their eyes toward the desert, startled by the king’s revelation.
Kasser’s sharp gaze never left the creature as he explained, “At this distance, for it to appear that large, it must be at least a violet-grade. A lark of that size would normally charge at the sight of humans without hesitation. If it’s restraining itself, it means it has reason—intellect. That makes it a Hwansu.”
An understanding murmur rippled through the gathered soldiers, their faces a mix of concern and recognition as they nodded in agreement.
“How long has it been like that?” Kasser asked, his voice tense.
“The moment the soldiers spotted it, they launched a signal flare,” the warrior replied, his voice steady but filled with unease. “It hasn’t budged from that spot since.”
Kasser’s expression darkened further. The idea of a Hwansu harboring malice toward humans was far more dangerous than a typical lark. Not only was it stronger, but its attacks were far more cunning, driven by intelligence. Unlike a lark, which would blindly charge at any sign of danger, a Hwansu knew exactly when to strike, and when to retreat. It would wait for the perfect moment to attack, patiently biding its time.
It’s strange for it to expose itself like that, Kasser thought, his brow furrowing. If it had any intent to attack, it would have moved far more stealthily.
But regardless of its behavior, Kasser knew he couldn’t leave it unchecked. Standing off indefinitely or turning his back on such a threat was simply not an option.
“Abu,” Kasser called sharply.
At his command, Abu swiftly climbed the fortress wall and came to his side. Without hesitation, Kasser mounted the horse’s back and urged Abu into action, leaping from the battlements and charging across the desert toward the Hwansu.
The moment Kasser moved, the creature turned and fled. Despite Abu’s impressive speed, the distance between them remained vast. Even after a long pursuit, the gap barely closed. Kasser’s jaw tightened as he pushed Abu harder, but the Hwansu’s head start proved too much.
Eventually, Kasser was forced to rein Abu to a halt, his chest heaving with frustration. He stared after the retreating beast, disbelief etched on his face.
He hadn’t expected it to simply bolt like that. What on earth was its purpose? Kasser wondered, watching as the creature disappeared into the distance. To come this close means it abandoned its territory.
Feeling unsettled, Kasser turned back, his mind racing. If it hadn’t been the active season, he would have pursued the Hwansu for days, following it until he reached the end. But now, with the danger looming over his own kingdom, he had no time to waste.
He retraced his steps, riding hard across the desert. As he crossed back over the fortress walls, he was met by a steward, his face pale with urgency, waiting for him at the gates.
Why is a steward here? Kasser thought, his brow furrowing as he eyed the man with a hardened gaze. The steward bowed deeply, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke.
“Your Majesty… The queen has gone into labor.”
Before the words had even fully left the steward’s mouth, Kasser was already urging Abu forward. The horse sprang into motion, racing toward the royal palace without a second thought. However, his way was quickly barred at the gates by the royal guards, who stood firm in his path, blocking his advance.
