They came at night.

Ash-born wolves stole into my chamber, their bodies painted with soot and blood, their eyes shining with marrow-white fire. They did not touch Kael. He slept heavy from battle-wounds but they touched me.

Hands on my arms, my belly, my throat. Gentle. Reverent. As if I were already seated on a throne they had built in secret.

“Queen of Ashes,” they whispered.

“Mother of flame and marrow.”

“Rise, and we will kneel.”

The unborn stirred, thrilled, pressing ...