Excerpt: Veteran of Haldus

Losa's tired body slumped flush to the ground. Her face was traced with tears, her eyes sore from squinting in pain and exertion, and that heaviness wasn't gone yet. A large hand grasped hers tightly, so tightly that her own hand was nearly numb—that or she was too preoccupied with the pain to pay attention.

“It's all right, Losa,” her husband whispered. She nodded tightly, lips stretched taut as the rest of her rigid frame. The weight was still there, and it wasn't over yet.

“Please relax, Milady,” said a calm female voice from further away. “One more push...”

She did as the nurse told her, and in one final sigh of relief, it was over. A high-pitched screaming echoed in her aching ears, a sound so painful yet far more uplifting. She felt as if her suffering had been worth it, nothing mattered now, nothing but her proud husband and her second child.

“It's a boy, Milady.” The nurse's announcement was quick and clear, but swift, hushed whispering followed amongst the other nurses. Marit clenched her hand even more tightly if that was even possible; clearly, he had noticed the muted conversation and was trying with all his power to keep his missus from hearing it.

“Milady, your son is...” One of the nurses approached, holding the infant gently. Her voice faltered.

Marit's hand left hers for a moment. Losa shifted uneasily. “What is it?” The notion that something could be wrong was too set against her expectations. Something so horrid could never happen, not to her, not to her lineage. While her first child, a girl though she was, would inherit her father's position, at that moment, nothing mattered but the wellbeing of the boy to which she'd just given birth.

Her aghast expression disappeared as Marit handed her the bundle of blankets. She held him tightly to her chest, the tears now flowing out of joy, and she knew that something so warm and so perfect couldn't possibly—

A single eye stared back at her.