Untamed - A. G. Howard Page 0,78
and he learned to wield an imagination because of it. So our son will be the first child to be born to two netherlings who’ve shared a genuine childhood. He’ll possess Morpheus’s dream-magic, and my imagination. Somehow, he’s going to pass on this unprecedented power, so the fae children will learn to dream again. They will experience childhood, in every sense of the word.
I don’t know all the details, I only know the prophecy, and the fact that Morpheus and I are to guide our son so he can master his gifts and impart them to all of Wonderland. I’m both honored and nervous to have a role in such a prestigious commission. Our prince is arriving not a moment too soon. The dreams Jeb left behind will begin waning now that he’s been gone for several years. That’s why I joined Red’s spirit to his muse, to buy us a little extra time. Sister One has assured me the substitute will last for a while longer. Still, I’ve no idea how old our prince will be before he comes into his full power.
Another contraction needles through me, and I bite back a howl.
Our kingdom has been on high alert over the last few months, preparing for their dream-child. But Morpheus and I have waited even longer to meet our son. Decades. So why is he determined to end me before I can even kiss his head?
I’m exhausted and scared like the human I once was. I’ve forgotten the process completely. When I experienced childbirth as a mortal, my mother was there to hold my hand, to guide me. I feel alone and fragile without her wisdom.
A sob clogs my throat as the thought of her provokes another: that she and Dad are gone forever, just like Jeb. That nothing is left of the human husband I loved except my memories and our children and grandchildren—a mortal family in a human realm I’ll never see again.
A deep sadness flares inside my chest. When I came here to reign as the Red Queen permanently, I made the choice not to have contact of any kind—even to view them through the looking glasses—although I couldn’t resist sending out scouts to watch over them. But aside from their reports of well-being, I ask for no other details out of respect for my king. As long as my earthly family doesn’t need me for anything life-threatening caused by my Wonderland ties, I have to stay away. To step in and intervene with magic under any other circumstance would only cause problems for everyone.
Still, there are times I long to know their everyday lives, times I grieve for those who died before I left. I’ve become strong, the master of my sentimentality. But tonight, I’m vulnerable, and the bittersweet memories threaten to drag me into their undertow.
I can’t reveal something so human to the Red King. He’d be disappointed by my weakness, maybe even wounded by my wistfulness. My mask is slipping, and I won’t let him see.
“You should leave until it’s over,” I mutter and writhe as another wave of contractions contorts my body.
“Like hell.” Morpheus scowls. “I made a vow never to leave you when you were hurt. Not that I would go otherwise. Your bandersnatch’s serpentine tongues couldn’t tear me away.”
“Listen to your king.” The Ivory Queen’s wise and gentle voice breaks from the doorway.
Morpheus tenses, as if torn between greeting our dear friend and holding on to me so I won’t drift away on crashing waves of pain. Although we sent a message via sprites, we haven’t had a chance to personally offer our condolences since Ivory lost her love, Finley. Though she’d been able to extend his life expectancy by retaining his physical age with a youth potion, his mortality finally took him from her just a few weeks ago. No human can live forever, as I know only too well.
Instead of going to Ivory at the doorway, Morpheus stays by my bedside, and I love him even more for it.
“Neither of you can get through this alone,” Ivory continues. “It will take both of you working together to bring this child into the world, just as it took both of you to create him.”
“I am at a complete loss,” Morpheus moans, and I know by the rasp in his voice that it’s physically painful for him to admit he can’t manipulate a way to fix this situation.
Ivory kneels beside him in a swish of skirts and wings that match