Danger Twin: Mezhia and Lennox

19 years ago Queen Solenne moved through the quiet hallway in hurried steps, her heart caught somewhere between anxiety and excitement. Maybe this news will finally bring him back to me. She reached the king's chamber and slowed, frowning. No guards flanked the door. Strange. She raised her hand to knock — then froze. A voice drifted from within. Low. Familiar. Witch Sephira. Solenne was not one to eavesdrop. But curiosity, sharp and sudden, pulled her closer. She pressed her ear to the cool wood and held her breath. Silence. She was about to step back, to let the moment pass, when Sephira's voice cut through the quiet like a blade unsheathed. "The queen will birth twins — one of each gender." A pause. The kind that stretches too long, that makes the air feel thin. "...and both will be your destruction." Solenne's breath caught in her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth to smother the gasp that escaped her anyway. This was supposed to be a joyful moment. News she'd carried through the halls like a secret flame, eager to share with her husband. But once again, Sephira had gotten there first — and turned hope into dread. She didn't wait, she ran. Queen Solonne's boots pounded against the stone corridor, her long brown hair whipping behind her like a banner of defiance. Every torch she passed flickered as if it too held its breath. She knew the king won't spare her kids. Her babies. Anyone with eyes could see, she was close to delivery. Another sob rose in her throat and she choked it down hard, dragging a fist across her cheek. Not now. Not now. Grief was a luxury for later — if there was a later. She went into her chamber. Think, Solonne. Think. There had been a time when she could have simply walked into the throne room and demanded her children's safety, and Orrick would have granted it without hesitation. He used to look at her like she was the only steady thing in his world. Now he looked through her, like she was furniture Sephira hadn't yet ordered removed. She squeezed her eyes shut. No use mourning a man who no longer existed. The king who sat that throne now wore her husband's face and nothing else of him remained — not his laugh, not his gentleness, not the promise he'd made her under the blackwood trees. Sephira had hollowed him out and poured ambition into the empty space, she weakened the power of the artifacts of other kingdoms so the king could claim them and now all of Velthara bent under his boot, and still it wasn't enough for him. She knew running wasn't an option, because no one could run from Orrick. But one thing was certain, no one, not even that witch, can cause harm to her babies. And that is a promise she's going to keep. Queen solenne’s babies delivery day The contractions hit hard and sudden, doubling her over against a gnarled oak root. Solonne pressed a hand to her belly and gritted her teeth through the pain, sweat beading at her temple despite the cool forest air. "Your Majesty!" Her maid, Tessa, was at her side in an instant, dropping to her knees in the damp leaves. "Go," Solonne gasped. "Find a guard — one you trust, Tessa, only one you trust — and bring him quietly. Tell no one else where I am." Tessa hesitated, torn between duty and fear of leaving her queen alone in the woods. "Go." Solonne's voice cracked like a whip despite her pain. "I don't have time to argue with you." The maid ran. That would buy her some time but she had to hurry, she didn't have much time. Alone, Solonne dragged herself the last stretch of the path, one hand braced against tree trunks, the other cradling her belly, until the midwife's cottage came into view — crooked chimney, herbs drying in bundles along the eaves, smoke curling into the grey morning sky. She didn't even need to knock. The old woman took one look at her doubled over in the doorway and pulled her inside. Hours blurred into pain and pushing and the midwife's steady voice telling her breathe, just breathe, Your Majesty — until finally, a cry. Then another. Two of them. Two tiny, furious, perfect cries filling the small cottage. "A girl," the midwife said, placing the first in her arms, "and a boy." Solonne looked down at them through tears she no longer bothered to wipe away. She thought of the names she'd carried in secret for months, names she'd never dared speak aloud in the palace where Sephira's shadow reached every corner. "Mezhia," she whispered to the girl, tracing a finger along her impossibly small cheek. Light. You will be the light this kingdom has lost. She turned to the boy, already gripping her finger with a strength that startled her. "Lennox." Protector. You will guard what your mother could not. Solonne's arms trembled as she made the trade — her son for a stranger's son, her daughter passing into the arms of two people she'd never met until this very hour. Every instinct in her screamed against it, but instinct wasn't what would keep her children breathing. "Cedric," she whispered, testing the name against the small sleeping face now against her chest. He didn't stir. He looked enough like her, dark-haired, soft-faced, that no one would question him at a glance. She turned to Velastra, gripping the young woman's wrist. "I don't know how to thank you for this. I don't know how you'll ever get him back—" "Don't," Velastra cut in, her eyes wet but her jaw set. "Don't promise me anything you can't keep, my queen. Just keep him alive. That's thanks enough." Nerya was already bundling the old couple toward the back door, murmuring instructions too low for Solonne to hear — a new name for Mezhia, perhaps, or where to go, or what story to tell if anyone asked whose child she was. The old woman turned back only once. "Go," Nerya said Solonne pressed a last kiss to Lennox's forehead — her Lennox, who would grow up believing he was Velastra's son — and to Mezhia's, already being wrapped in the old woman's shawl. She watched them go. Her children. Gone from her arms, and the pain of it nearly split her in two. She wiped her tears and held onto the little infant in her hands, Cedric, Prince Cedric. Outside, she could hear hoofbeats approaching — and she had no way of knowing yet whether it was Tessa returning with a friend, or something far worse.