It seems to be taking forever for Andrew to return. I didn’t really want anything to eat, but he seemed to need something to do to keep him occupied.

I let out a long breath. It’s the strangest feeling—I don’t want him hovering over me, but I want him near me all the same. And I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right with me.

There’s a crash across the ballroom, and a hush falls over the crowd though the music is still playing in the background.

Something twists in my chest—I somehow know this has something to do with Andrew.

Maybe he’s collapsed again. Maybe his heart has given out…

The crowd parts for me as I rush over, but Andrew hasn’t collapsed at all. He’s on the ground, wrestling with Leo, both of them throwing fists at the other.

“Andrew!” Neither of them seem to be paying attention. I’m not sure where Elle has gone—maybe she and Matthew left the festivities early. “Andrew!” I call out for him again, but he doesn’t even glance at me. His attention is squarely focused on beating the shit out of his brother as his fist finds Leo’s jaw again.

Things all seem to be happening in slow motion. Leo lands a punch on Andrew’s eye, and Andrew jabs his brother in the stomach.

At almost the same time, I feel a strange twinge in my own belly. It starts low—much lower than the false labor contractions I’ve been having for weeks. And within another moment, the pain rises, shooting across my entire abdomen.

I suck in a breath, holding my abdomen until the pain passes. My attention turns back to my husband—of course he’s embroiled in some stupid fight with his brother when I might actually be in labor. I still don’t really understand what it is between the two of them, or why Andrew feels the need to continue to rub the whole ascension law in Leo’s face.

Montovia is important to him—Andrew has spent his entire life knowing that he bears the burden carrying on the history of the country. Why can’t he see that his family is just as important?

At the thought of family the pain starts again in my belly, low at first, but soon taking over my entire body this time. I double over, catching the attention of a few onlookers.

A woman I don’t know comes to my side. “Nice and slow, dear.” She rubs my back, and as soon as the contraction passes, she ushers me away from the commotion.

Penelope must have seen what’s happening. She seems to appear out of nowhere, smiling at the woman, giving her a nod of gratitude. “I’ll take over from here.”

The woman gives the queen a curtsy as Penelope slides her arm around my waist.

We walk slowly to the exit—I think she’s trying not to draw attention to us. It’s probably not too difficult, since my husband is making an ass of himself on the other side of the room. Everyone in Montovia probably knows about the fight by now.

Penelope seems to sense my thoughts. “Don’t worry about them, dear.” She glances over her shoulder as we leave the ballroom. “They’re being fools. We’ll deal with them later.”

I open my mouth to respond, but instead my eyes widen as another contraction begins. I start to count the seconds—I get to forty-five before it stops.

Forty-five?

“This is it.” I look up at my mother-in-law. “Isn’t it?”

She gives me a knowing nod, a smile on her lips. “I suspect so, but we’ll let the physician tell us for certain.”

I have two more contractions before we make it to the physician’s suite—they are coming closer together than I would have expected, and each one seems to last longer than the one before.

It’s happening too fast, I think. I’ve read way more than I should have about this over the past six months or so. First babies don’t arrive quickly. They take their time—labor lasts forever.

Something must be wrong.

The doctor smiles at me as we walk through the door. I’m not sure how she knew to be here—maybe Penelope sent word ahead of us. But she’s here, waiting for me, and she takes my hand, leading me into the room they have set up for me to have my child.

It’s very homey—Penelope had seen to it. And they’ve made plans to transfer me to the hospital if I need to go immediately. The doctor has assured me nearly every day that it’s safe for me to give birth here. And I’d asked for as little intervention as possible.

Another contraction hits, and one of the women rubs my back until it passes.

“How often are the contractions coming?” They doctor seems to be asking Penelope and not me.

“About three minutes apart,” the queen responds.

The doctor just nods, leading me over to the bed. “I’m going to do a few checks, Victoria. But I’m pretty sure you’re going to have a baby tonight.”