Chapter 29
MYRA SAT stark naked, legs spread on the birthing chair. Sweat-soaked hair clung to her head.
The elderly palace midwife knelt on the cushion facing the girl, and placed a basket with soft towels under the chair. She nodded at Myra. “You’re almost ready.”
Myra’s expression was distant. Her lips trembled, and then she muttered, “Help me, help me, help me.” With each help, her voice became louder. Her breath sped up, her legs trembled, her one hand dug into the flesh of her thighs. She howled.
The midwife cursed. “Oh, come on, girl. It’s not going to happen with screaming. If you want to be a breeder, you’ve got to do better than this. Push, by the skylights. Push, push.”
Myra wailed and panted. Tears ran over her face. “I can’t. Please help me, Mistress Loriane.”
“She’s rig
