The night had finally come.
Mirha gripped the edges of the birthing bed, her body trembling violently as another contraction ripped through her. She screamed, raw and broken, sweat pouring down her face.
Mayora, Ruso, and Yadid moved with practiced urgency around her. Yadid stayed closest, gently wiping her forehead and tears with a cool cloth.
"Breathe, Your Majesty," he murmured, voice steady but eyes full of worry.
A maid fanned her desperately, trying to bring some relief to the stifling room. Mirha felt like she was tearing apart — a burning, stretching pain between her legs that made her sob.
"I can't… I can't do this," she gasped, voice cracking.
Ruso's calm but firm voice cut through her panic. "You must push, Your Majesty. Now."
Mirha shook her head, exhausted tears streaming down her cheeks. She had no strength left. Fear gripped her — fear for herself, fear for the baby she had fought so hard to keep.
Yadid leaned in, his hand gently squeezing hers. "Slowly, please… It will be over soon. You're almost there."
Mirha nodded weakly. She took three shaky breaths and pushed with everything she had left.
The baby's head emerged. With one final, powerful push and a guttural cry from Mirha, the child slipped free.
For a terrifying second, the room was silent.
Mirha's eyes widened in panic. "Why is it quiet? Why isn't my baby crying?!"
Mayora, who had taken the newborn from Ruso, laughed softly with relief. "The little prince just wants to sleep."
The baby let out a tiny, weak whimper — almost a complaint — before settling again. Mirha exhaled shakily, tears of relief spilling down her face as the tension in her body finally broke. She felt boneless, as if every drop of strength had left her.
Ruso carefully carried the baby away to be cleaned while Mayora and Yadid tended to Mirha. The exhaustion crashed over her like a wave. Her eyelids grew heavy, and within moments, she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
In the Prince's receiving room
Arvin paced back and forth like a caged lion, hands clenched behind his back. Mirha had forbidden him from being in the room, and he had respected her wish — but every scream he heard from down the hall had torn at him.
The door finally opened.
Ruso entered, carrying a small bundle wrapped in soft golden cloth. Arvin nearly dropped to his knees in relief.
Ruso smiled faintly. "Your son, Your Majesty."
Arvin stepped forward, eyes wide with awe as he looked down at the tiny human in Ruso's arms. The baby had a full head of soft, curly brown hair — just like his mother's. He was small, but alive. Breathing.
Arvin's voice was hoarse. "Where is my wife?"
"She is resting," Ruso assured him. "She did very well."
Arvin let out a long, shaky breath. He followed Ruso to the crib and watched as his son was gently laid down. For a long moment, he simply stared at the child — their miracle.
Then he turned and walked quickly to Mirha's chamber.
The room was filled with the calming scent of incense and warm candlelight. Mirha lay on the bed, pale but peaceful, fast asleep.
Arvin crossed the room silently, knelt beside the bed, and pressed soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips.
"I love you," he whispered against her skin, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, my love."
He stayed there for a long time, holding her hand, watching over both his wife and the new prince who had finally arrived.
The next morning, Queen Mother Raina arrived at the Golden Estate at first light.
She walked straight to Mirha's chambers, her steps hurried. When she entered, Mirha was sitting up in bed, slowly sipping herbal tea. Mayora and two maids attended her quietly.
The moment Raina saw Mirha — still pale, exhausted, but alive — her eyes filled with tears.
The ladies and maids bowed deeply. Mirha tried to bow as well, moving carefully.
"No, please," Raina said quickly, voice thick with emotion. "My sweet darling… I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner."
She crossed the room and sat gently on the edge of the bed, taking Mirha's hand in both of hers.
"How are you, my dear?"
Mirha gave a tired but genuine smile. "I am doing well. I hope you are well too, Your Majesty."
Raina's tears spilled over. "Oh, I am beyond okay. You have made that possible by risking everything to give us this handsome little prince. Thank you, Mirha… thank you so much."
Mirha simply nodded, her own eyes glistening as she squeezed Raina's hand.
"Where is Arvin?" Raina asked, glancing around.
"He has been moving between this room and the baby's room all night," Mirha replied softly.
Raina shook her head with fond exasperation. "Tell him I am here. I will take care of the complaining prince, i heard he was a fussy one. Call Arvin to come take care of his wife," she instructed the maids.
The maids bowed and hurried out.
Raina stayed a moment longer, gently stroking Mirha's hand. Then she rose, bowed slightly to her daughter-in-law with deep respect, and left the room.
---
Some time later, Arvin sat with Heman and Yadid in a private courtyard, sharing tea.
Yadid spoke with quiet respect. "It was truly a miracle, Your Majesty. Both mother and child surviving such a dangerous pregnancy… few would have dared hope for this."
Arvin nodded. "I must thank you as well. You have been invaluable."
Yadid smiled humbly. "You will let it get to my head, Your Majesty. It was mostly old man Ruso's doing."
Arvin gave a small chuckle, then turned to Heman. Heman placed a sealed pouch of dried wild carrot tea leaves on the table and slid it toward Yadid.
Arvin spoke casually. "Take this to my Empress. I believe she requested for it."
Yadid nodded without hesitation. "Of course, Your Majesty."
"Examine it," Arvin continued, "and have her take it when necessary. I believe you will take good care of her."
Yadid bowed his head. "Of course, Your Majesty."
Arvin rose from his seat. "That will be all."
The moment Arvin left the courtyard, Heman turned to Yadid.
"You seem to enjoy playing with little Prince Kilimah," Heman said lightly.
Yadid kept his expression neutral. "One would say the young prince is simply very friendly. He could hug a stranger with the same warmth."
Heman gave a small, cold smile. "I suppose that's why you sometimes smell like him."
Yadid said nothing.
Heman stood and patted his shoulder firmly. "You are a great lad. Keep your head up… and your hands to yourself."
With that, Heman walked away.
Once he was alone, Yadid finally picked up the pouch. He opened it slowly and stared at the dried wild carrot tea leaves inside.
His stomach dropped.
The realization hit him like
In that instant, everything clicked.
The steady, knowing look from Arvin.
The deliberate coldness beneath his polite words.
Heman's veiled comment.
The pouch of wild carrot tea placed so casually in front of him.
This was not a meeting of gratitude.
This was a warning.
Arvin wanted him to know that he knew.
Yadid's stomach twisted violently. His mind raced — images of Nailah's tear-streaked face, the risk to his own life, the precarious position he had put himself in. Cold sweat broke out along his spine, yet his expression remained perfectly composed, betraying nothing.
Yadid stared at the dried leaves for a long moment, his fingers tightening around the pouch until his knuckles turned white.
He had been caught.
And the Emperor had made sure he understood that.