It was soon to become the loudest birth ever recorded in Imperian history.
"Tristan," Julia said, panting, a sheen of sweat and pain dampening her brow. "How could you do this to me?"
He stilled, concerned for her, and quite baffled by her question.
"Do what, little dragon?"
"Impregnate me, you bastard!"
At that, he chuckled, though the sound was strained. He hated that she was in so much pain and wanted to take it all into himself. He wiped her brow with a gentle hand.
"Just imagine, my love. We will soon welcome our son into the world."
Those words caused peace to settle over her features.
"Yes. We will welcome our son." Another pain hit her and she screamed. "If he doesn't hurry I will personally drag him out." As the pain faded, she drew in a breath, then another, then settled back on the bed.
"Does the pain leave you?" he asked hopefully.
"A little." Closing her eyes, she uttered a tired sigh. "I can't believe it. I'm about to become a mother."
"Life is good. Did I ever tell you that the Druinn High Priest predicted our firstborn would one day rule Imperia?"
"No." The thought pleased her, though. She, a formerly plain, shy woman, was about to give birth to a future king. "That is so cool."
"I can easily picture our boy sitting atop the royal throne. He will be known as a kind, giving king with a capacity for fairness that rivals even his mother's."
Except fifteen minutes later, Tristan welcomed his daughter into the world—a girl who would one day rule Imperia, he realized. How… astounding. Holding the beautiful squalling infant in her arms, Julia nuzzled the baby's neck, cooing soft words.
"Finally," she said, "a ruler of uncommon intelligence."
Tristan remained unmoving, shock still coursing through his blood.
"A female sovereign," he whispered.
Julia looked up at him through the spiky shield of her lashes.
"Are you disappointed that we didn't have a son?"
"Nay, sweet." He smiled down at her with all the love he felt shining in his eyes. "I have never been happier."