The last couple of weeks have been a blur.

I’ve tried to do as the physician requested, but it’s hard to sleep when there’s still so much to take care of. At the end of the day, it was Victoria who convinced me to get some proper rest—seeing how worried she was about me was the final straw. She has enough to concern herself already—I won’t contribute to her distress.

But as the days have passed and her due date has drawn nearer and nearer, I’ll admit I’ve found it harder and harder to keep my word and get enough sleep.

It doesn’t help that Victoria has been looking increasingly uncomfortable as the time approaches. She can hardly seem to sit still anymore. Now it’s Christmas Eve, and the festival for lighting the Tannenbaum will begin within the hour. She’s been restless all morning, pacing around our suite and fussing with her dress.

“Do you think the people would be offended if I showed up in a bathrobe?” she asks me as she readjusts the fabric across her belly.

“You could show up in whatever you like, as far as I’m concerned,” I tell her. “You’ve earned the right to be comfortable, especially tonight.”

She smiles at me, but I can see the worry in her eyes. I know exactly how she’s feeling. The joyful anticipation of our daughter’s impending birth is marred by a deep anxiety—after everything we’ve endured over the course of this pregnancy, there’s still a significant chance something could go wrong.

She catches my hands, squeezing them, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve been tugging at the buttons on my coat—in fact, I’ve nearly pulled one of them off.

“Why don’t you go see if your mother needs any help?” she says.

“I’m sure my mother has everything under control. Besides, I have no intention of leaving your side tonight. The baby could come at any moment—”

“It isn’t like it’s going to come at this moment. And your hovering is making me nervous.” She looks up at me. “Please, Andrew.”

I don’t want to leave her, but I figure this is probably the one time when I must do whatever she asks of me, even if I disagree.

“If anything happens,” I say, “promise me that you’ll call me immediately. If you even think you’re having contractions—”

“I promise. Now go.” She stands on her toes and kisses me on the cheek. “I just have a few more things to do. I’ll join you downstairs when I’m done.”

Dismissed, I force myself to walk out the door before I can talk myself out of it. I hate leaving her, even for a moment, but I’m determined to distract myself. I’ve already caused her enough stress.

My headaches have improved since I started getting more sleep, but they still aren’t gone completely. I have a feeling they won’t disappear until I know our daughter is here and safe. The first few nights after I was hospitalized, I convinced myself to sleep by telling myself I had the chance to see the dream version of my family again. But they’ve never reappeared. Part of me is saddened by that, but another part of me is relieved. I’m needed here, not there. And it might be too tempting not to leave them again.

When I reach the ground floor of the palace, I can feel the energy in the air. Christmas is nearly upon us, and all the festivities that come with it. I can hear laughter and holiday music, hear a contagious liveliness in the voices of the servants and guards as they move through the corridors.

I find my mother in the Grand Ballroom, directing people as some last-minute things are being added to the decorations. She smiles when she sees me and beckons me over.

“How is she?” she asks me when I approach. She knows where my mind is these days.

“She’s fine. Restless.”

“As to be expected.” My mother pats my arm. “We’re all here, whatever she needs.” Her eyes flick past me, to the door way. “Ah, here’s your brother and Elle.”

I turn to find Leopold with his wife and child, all dressed in their holiday finest. Any thought of eliminating my anxiety by distracting myself immediately disappears.

My brother and I have hardly spoken these last few weeks. It’s easy to avoid people in a palace of this size. But our lack of confrontation hasn’t made our situation any better. If anything, I’m more frustrated by him now than I was before. I wanted to get this settled before my daughter was born, but it seems like this tension will be yet another stress to add to the early days of my child’s life.

My mother, of course, has seen exactly what’s going on.

“Give it time,” she says softly, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “Everyone has to make some adjustments when a new life comes into the world. And this child will affect more lives than most do.”

“I’ve given it time,” I say. “I tried to talk with him about it from the very beginning, to get everything out in the open.”

“And sometimes it’s more complicated than that. Give him time.”

Leopold, Eleanor, and Matthew have reached us now, so I suppose the conversation is over. My mother greets them warmly, and I give my brother the expected nod and clasp my hands behind my back, waiting.

It’s clear that my brother has no intention of resolving anything tonight. While he wears a smile and laughs like his usual self, I can still feel the distance between us. Something has shifted in our relationship, and if he has no intention of helping me fix it, then there’s nothing I can do.

My head is throbbing again. Between my worry for Victoria and this nonsense with my brother, it’s going to be a long night. I spot the table of mulled wine at the far side of the room and stride over to grab myself a cup.

I’d rather just fight it out with him and get it over with, I think. Throw a few punches and get everything out of our system. Back when we were boys, that was always the way we dealt with our issues. But we’re too old now, and it’s far too late for for fighting. What are we going to do—slug each other in front of the Tannenbaum and half our citizens?

I chug the glass of mulled wine in one long gulp. It burns my tongue, and it isn’t nearly strong enough to settle my nerves, but it’s all I have. As soon as it’s gone, I get another glass. Then another.

I’m finishing my fourth when I spot Victoria in the doorway to the ballroom. And my mother is calling out to me, saying it’s time for the family to head down to the city. I give my empty glass to a servant and hurry over to my wife’s side.

“Are you all right?” she asks me, looking me up and down.

“Of course,” I assure her, taking her arm. “Perfectly well.” I curl my fingers over hers on my arm.

She doesn’t look convinced by that, but it doesn’t matter—it’s time to go, and we have a long night ahead of us.