Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to fiddle, so all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 26

The tension at Masenthorne Castle grows as the days pass. The last of the spring snow fell weeks ago, and warmer days have settled over the land, guaranteeing Rhema's imminent arrival. The soldiers continue to train, men continue to bring stores of grain and small livestock inside the castle walls, and the constant tapping and hammering of the blacksmiths can be heard at all hours of the day and night as more weapons are forged.

It feels as though we are living on borrowed time.

Scouting parties have been sent out by the king's order—a group of three in each direction—only to return with no word of Rhema's position.

The ladies of Masenthorne have taken to sewing circles, stitching new clothing and blankets for those who, at any time, will be brought inside the castle walls to seek refuge from the coming battle. It is in the company of these women where I have found myself the last several days. But it is not clothing for the villagers I toil over. No, it is the last of what is needed for my child's arrival.

The dresses, quilts, and linen cloths to wrap the babe's bottom are nearly ready, which is a good thing. The midwife tells me I may not see another full moon before he arrives.

Only the quiet hum of conversation is heard as we all work on our tasks. Alice tries to lighten the mood that has fallen over us by sharing what new skill young Jameson has mastered, and Rosalie quietly guides young Emily in her attempts to finger knit with a ball of spun wool. The girl's small fingers repeatedly get tangled, and her smile and honest-hearted laugh are refreshing in the face of what is to come.

The sound of hoofbeats and loud voices enter the courtyard outside the window, gaining my attention. I rise from my seat, albeit ungracefully. "I am well," I reassure Angela when she reaches out to help me.

I waddle to the window and peer outside. One of the groups of scouts has returned after only four days. I watch as they dismount and hurry to enter the keep. A knot forms in my stomach as I think of what urgent news they have to share with the king.

"Isabella, you really mustn't be so anxious every time a rider returns. Rising to your feet each time you hear a sound, you will tire yourself too much to birth that child when the time comes," the queen says with a nod toward my immense belly. "If it is urgent, we will know."

I nod once as I step back toward my chair beside hers. "You are right. I am sorry. I will try not to—"

She reaches over and grasps my hand, squeezing it gently. "It is all right. We are all a bit anxious."

I resume my work, and the quiet conversation continues, but I cannot help but look toward the window.

The queen places her bundle of fabric in the basket at her feet and turns to me. "Perhaps a break from this monotonous task is in order, hmm?"

"A break?" I ask.

Esme turns to her daughter, niece and other ladies in the room. "If you will excuse us, I think Isabella and I might take a stroll through the halls. I do believe a bit of walking and a change in scenery would do us both some good."

"Of course, Mother," Alice replies before smiling up at me as I rise to my feet. "I remember the last few weeks I carried Jameson. Walking seemed to be the only thing to ease some of my discomfort. I do hope you feel better."

"Thank you, Alice."

The queen guides me into the halls, and we walk arm in arm, stopping only to gaze out the few windows we pass. The hurried pace at which everyone else moves only increases my anxiety, and the queen notices.

"This castle has stood for generations, Isabella. The Cullen family has lived within its walls since the final stone was laid." She pats my forearm as it loops through hers. "You need to have faith that we will prevail."

"I have faith," I say softly, my eyes flashing to hers and back to our path. "It does not mean I am not worried about what is to come. I worry for the men who might give their lives to protect us."

"Of course, you worry. We all worry. But you must remember, those men have pledged their lives to protect us. I have no doubt that under my husband and yours, Masenthorne, as well as Galon, will stand because of them." She leans in close, smiling and lowering her voice. "But perhaps a few more prayers would not hurt."

I smile in return. "No, I do not believe they would."

We walk side by side in the direction of the chantry. The queen does her best to distract me from the commotion in the halls.

"Have you and Edward spoken of any names?" she asks from beside me.

I shake my head. "No, we—"

"Mother, might I steal away my wife for a few moments?" Edward's sudden appearance in our path is a surprise. His smile appears forced, and I am instantly on guard.

"Oh, of course, Edward." She releases my arm and walks toward her son. "I trust you will take extra special care of her?" She looks over her shoulder at me. "Our circumstances are weighing especially heavy on her today. We do not want to see her tax herself. Isabella needs to maintain her strength after all."

"She is in good hands, Mother." He kisses her cheek. "And Father wishes to have word with you."

She sighs. "Then I shall go and see what is so urgent." With a parting kiss to my cheek she walks away, leaving the two of us to stare at one another.

Silence stretches between us, both of us aware there is something amiss. The way he is staring at me makes me nervous, as if he is looking for something, memorizing me in a way he never has.

"Shall we take a walk?" he finally asks.

"That would be lovely." I offer him a smile and take his arm, allowing him to lead us toward a secluded corridor and down a narrow, winding staircase to the lowest level of the castle.

The halls are quiet as we walk, not a servant in sight, and neither of us speaks to break that silence. The light of midday soon illuminates our path, the halls growing brighter as we near the doors to the courtyard.

I do not press him for answers, allowing him time to gather his thoughts. He obviously has something to tell me, but he appears reluctant to speak. Suddenly, his steps halt and he turns to me, his gaze focused elsewhere as he looks over my shoulder. When it returns to me, I see what looks like an apology in his eyes.

"A group of scouts has returned with word."

I wait, swallowing the lump in my throat. "What word do they bring?"

He exhales a heavy breath and takes my hands in his, not meeting my eyes. "They say Rhema is approaching from the south. They are a several days' ride away."

"It is time then?"

He nods once. "It is. And my father has given the order." His voice is low, rough, as if it painful to speak the words. "We are to form a line and try to cut them off before they reach our lands."

Tears fill my eyes, but I take a deep breath and blow it out, attempting to rein in my emotions. "You are to leave me, then? You are to lead the army to the battlefield?"

He nods.

"For how long?" My hand instinctually goes to my belly, fears of him missing the birth of our child suddenly all but realized.

"I do not know." Finally, his gaze meets mine. "We could be gone for quite a while—weeks, perhaps longer. I have no way of knowing." He searches my eyes, his reflecting something I have not yet seen in them. His large, warm hand moves to cover mine, and our child kicks forcefully under our touch. "It is likely I will miss the birth."

I nod as I look down at our interlaced fingers. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before your father deemed you were needed elsewhere." I look up at him and smile sadly. "I knew it was coming."

"As did I. It does not make it any easier to leave you." He looks around and spots a nearby bench. "Come." He gently nudges me toward it, and we sit side by side, our joined hands now resting on his thigh. "You know I would not leave you if I had a choice."

"I know." I look up at him, gathering all my strength. "But your king has spoken. And as much as it pains me to say it, right now, Galon needs you more than I do."

He nods in agreement. "It does." He turns to fully face me. "I have asked my father to send word of the child if I am away long enough to miss his arrival. And if anything were to go wrong—"

I place my fingertips over his lips. "You will do your duty and then return to me. There is no reason to worry. I have your mother, your sister, Lady McCarty, and more women than I could possibly need to bring our child into the world safely. Do not give us a second thought. I will not have your distraction on my conscience."

"You must know how impossible that will be." His expression—a furrowed brow and downturned lips—makes me smile.

"But you have already done the impossible. I thought I'd lost you once, and you returned to me. This will be no different." I look intently into his eyes. "You will return to us."

"You must understand, facing Aro's army ... We—"

"You will do your duty to your king and fight for your people. Your men are depending on your leadership. I will not be the reason for you not giving them your full focus."

He lifts my hand to place a kiss on my palm. "Your selflessness continues to astound me, Isabella."

"I disagree. Wanting you to return home is entirely selfish on my behalf." He stares down at me, and looking up into his eyes, I see worry and concern. "What troubles you?" I ask.

"I've taken the liberty of having a gift made for you."

"A gift?"

He nods, motioning for one of his men to step forward from the shadows of the castle steps. I turn and watch as he walks toward us. In his hands is a wooden box, thin but wide. He places it in Edward's waiting arms and turns to walk away.

"What is it?" I ask.

Edward's eyes meet mine, and while he appears to be enjoying giving me a gift, the worry is still there. "I want you to know that while I am gone, I have asked that a guard watch over you at all times. I also know the unexpected can happen, and there may come a time when you need to protect yourself."

He slowly opens the box, revealing a crossbow. Alongside the bow, a row of sharpened bolts catch the sun's rays.

My hand ghosts over the short arrows. "This is for me?" I ask, looking up at him.

He nods, a sad smile on his face. "You had exceptional aim when you trained alongside my men, and I know you will be able to protect yourself if the need arises. I want you to keep it with you while I am gone."

"When do you leave?"

He breathes a heavy sigh as he closes the box, placing it on the ground beside his feet. "We will set out at dawn."

I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "Then I wish to spend the rest of the day in our chambers. I want to have you to myself until you leave."

His entire body tenses, and as I open my eyes to look up at him, his gaze is on someone or something behind me. I turn and see one of the ever-present messengers standing in wait.

"I must go."

I look back to him. "You will not leave without saying goodbye, will you?"

He lifts my chin, his green gaze burning into mine. "I will not. You have my word."

Standing outside the king's chambers, Edward kisses his mother's cheek. "Goodnight. And I shall see you at first light." He takes my hand and wraps it around his arm.

Bidding one another one more goodnight, we go our separate ways, Esme toward her rooms, and us toward ours. The corridor between the king's chambers and our own is all but abandoned at this late hour.

"I am sorry I could not get away before now. There was nothing to be done about it."

I shake my head. "I understand. You had much to prepare for tomorrow."

"That may be so, but being approached by my mother as I left my father's chambers was not part of my plans." He turns to me as we walk. "I am sorry we could not hide away in our rooms as you asked of me."

"I know your leaving is difficult for your mother. To sequester ourselves in our chambers would have been selfish."

Once again, he places a kiss to my hand. "And your selflessness continues," he muses. "I do not think I would be quite as generous with your time if our roles were reversed."

"She has always been the one to see you off and to worry over your safe return. Just because you now have a wife to do it does not mean she will not. I would not take these few, precious moments of your company from her."

He nods but says nothing. We walk up the stairs in companionable silence, my hand still clutched to his arm.

As he ushers me into our chambers, Angela is there to greet us. "My Lord, My Lady," she says with a curtsy. "Will you need assistance tonight?" she asks, looking at me, but it is Edward who answers her.

"No, Angela, I will tend to my wife. That will be all," he says, dismissing her. Standing at the window with his back to us, I recognize the tense set of his shoulders.

"Thank you, Angela," I say softly.

She nods and offers a quick curtsy before making her exit.

With a fire blazing to chase off the coolness of the evening, the room is quite warm, but a chill of a different sort has settled over the space. I step toward the troubled man gazing out into the night and place both my hands on his shoulders. His muscles tense under my touch. "What is it?" I whisper.

He reaches for a hand and turns his head to place a kiss there. "It is a strange feeling to not want to leave." He turns and pulls me to him. "For so many years, I could not wait to go out and prove myself to the world, to my father. At first it was on the battlefield, and in recent years he has had enough trust in me to speak for him, to barter peace with our enemies." He smiles down at me. "And I would say my bargaining skills have been more than successful as of late."

I return his smile. "As would I."

His hand moves to cup my cheek. "But I do not think any bargaining will help us avoid what is coming."

"I know," I whisper.

"I want you to know that tomorrow, when I am readying my men to leave—"

I silence him with a chaste kiss. "I know."

The kisses that follow are anything but chaste, but he is still tender and caring as he removes my dress and leads me to our bed. Soft caresses and whispered promises and words of devotion warm me against the cool draft blowing through the room. And when he finally lies behind me and pushes his way inside my body, I feel a sadness at not knowing when we will come together like this again. Our joining is wordless, only quiet sounds and heavy breaths, and when we find completion, it is together and quiet.

So much is unspoken.

When we finally pull apart, he does not release me; he merely turns me to my back and rests his head low, his lips brushing against the large swell of my belly where our babe grows. I rake my fingers through his hair as he whispers words I cannot hear to our child. Hot tears well in my eyes, finally escaping into my hair as I try to accept the uncertainty of the days to come.

Alice stands by my side, her hand in mine, as we watch the men saddle their horses and check their weapons. Jasper may not be able to fight alongside his cousin, but he is here, overseeing their preparations.

"I am worried for them." I pull my cloak tighter and adjust the hood on my head in an attempt to ward off the chill of the early summer morning.

"It is difficult not to be." She turns to face me. "But it is their duty."

I nod. "It is."

She squeezes my hand. "And keeping the home fires burning is ours."

I turn to meet her eyes. "How many times have you had to send them off, your brother and your husband, not knowing if you would see them again?"

"More times than I care to remember." She turns back to the field. "And it never gets any easier to send them on their way. Even before Jasper and I were wed, it was difficult to tell him goodbye." She breathes a laugh, smiling at the memory. "He must have a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs from me from over the last few years." Her voice softens. "We could not openly show any affection. I could not kiss him goodbye, so it was the only thing I could send with him to remember me."

I turn my own gaze back to the men and watch as Edward checks over his horse with his cousin and squire beside him.

"I worry about what they will face on the road." The heavily-laden horses shift in their impatience to begin their journey as more supplies are loaded onto them. "Edward told me they are being sent directly into Rhema's path." I turn to Alice with wide eyes. "I do not think I have ever been so terrified."

She squeezes my hand and turns her head, raising a finger to point toward the wall blocking a field from view. "Out there wait hundreds of men who will be led by your husband." Her eyes meet mine. "And hundreds more from the outlying lowlands will be waiting here for word for when they are needed. Whatever is to come, the men are ready. Masenthorne Castle will be protected. There is no reason to worry."

"It is not Masenthorne I worry over," I murmur. She raises a brow and I sigh. "Yes, I know."

"I am not sure you do. My brother has been leading many of these men since he was seventeen. He is good at what he does, and we must have faith in him. They are not going into this heedlessly, Isabella. Yes, Edward will lead these men into battle, but unlike the ambush, he and his men are prepared. He knows his enemy this time. Edward knows how ruthless Aro and his army can be, and he is prepared for that." She turns back to the men before us. "We need only have faith in him."

The king and queen emerge from the shadows of the keep and step into the gray light of morning, gaining the attention of the men. No words are spoken, but King Carlisle watches with a discerning eye.

When everything seems to be loaded and secured, Edward turns and steps toward his father, unsheathing his sword and driving the tip into the dew-covered earth as he takes a knee.

"It is an honor, My Lord, to assure the safety of Galon. May the Gods guide me on your behalf."

The king says nothing, merely nodding in acknowledgement of his son's pledge as Edward gets to his feet. They exchange quiet words before my husband steps toward me. To say I am shocked would be utterly inadequate.

"I cannot leave without one more look at you." He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips. "I do believe thoughts of you and the child will drive me to madness while I am away."

"As will my thoughts of you, My Lord." I smile when he kisses my knuckles once more. "Godspeed, and come home to me," I whisper.

"I shall do my very best," he says with a grin. "And do not tax yourself too much while I am away. I need you to take care of yourself and my son."

I smile up at him. "You know I will."

"I love you, Isabella," he whispers. "Do not forget that."

"I could never forget. I love you, too."

Without another word, he turns away from me and strides toward his men, ordering them into formation. I watch as he mounts his stallion and leads them toward the first of the castle's gates. With one last look over his shoulder, our eyes meet. So much is said in that one look.

Be safe.

Do what you must and come home.

I love you.

His gaze does not linger, and before I allow my emotions to get the better of me, he turns back to his path and is gone.

The morning after Edward and his men leave, the call goes out, and Masenthorne becomes a swarm of activity. As I watch from the window of the queen's sitting room, villagers pour into the castle's outer courtyard at a staggering rate. Men, women, and small children have come to seek shelter from the coming battle that may or may not come to our gates. Watching them push and shove for their place in line shows just how urgent our situation has become, and my anxiety and worry for my husband only grows.

A week has passed, and still more villagers find their way through Masenthorne's gates. The lower levels of the castle are nearly full to the brim with people seeking refuge. The urge to help them settle in to their new surroundings is strong, but as my time to give birth grows nearer, I am encouraged to rest.

I try and busy myself with my sewing, but the distraction is not enough. Spending time in the chantry—sitting on the hard benches—does nothing but cause pain low in my back, so I retreat to my chambers. The pains only increase in frequency as more time passes, and as the sun rises nearly a fortnight after Edward's departure, I know it is time.

I am sent to my bed, and the midwife and her attendants, as well as Esme, Alice and Rosalie, all come to my aid. They stay by my side, gently encouraging me, reminding me of the prize at the end of my labor. They hold my hand, wipe my brow, and keep my mind occupied between the waves of pain. When the sun rises on a new day and the child is yet to be born, my exhaustion is evident. I close my eyes for brief respites between my pains and can barely hold up my own head. When they begin to exchange worried glances, I, too, begin to worry.

"Is the child well?" I ask with panted breaths. Alice wipes a cool cloth across my face as I lie on my side.

The midwife places her warm hand upon the bare skin of my belly while the fingers of her other hand probe down below. Her eyes meet mine, and I find determination. "The child still moves, My Lady, but he needs to be born. You've labored too long." She turns to Alice and Rosalie. "Help Her Highness to her feet and support her as she squats." Again, she turns to me. "Now comes the hard work, My Lady."

I am helped from the bed, and Alice and Rosalie each wrap an arm around me as I lower into a crouch.

"With the next pain, I want you to push."

I say nothing but nod in agreement. As my belly tightens, another wave of pain washes over me, and in this position, it is different. I feel centered, open, and the weight of my child is heavy. It feels as though he wants to come out. With a renewed vigor, I lower my chin to my chest and push.

"That is it, My Lady!" The midwife's tone of voice is soothing, and it is the encouragement I need. But with each round of pushing, I grow weaker. As the light streaming through the window moves across the floor, I know it is taking far too long.

"I cannot." I lay my head against Alice's shoulder as she wipes yet another cool cloth over my face. She's beside me on her knees, holding me up as I squat. Rosalie's arm is wrapped around me as well on my other side.

The midwife's pointed gaze meets mine. "You can, My Lady, and you will." She returns her attention to the matter at hand. "Lady Whitlock, Lady McCarty, keep a good hold on her." Her eyes flash to mine. "Now, Isabella, with the next pain, you are to push. I believe the little prince or princess is nearly here."

"No, I cannot," I say with panted breaths. Exhaustion has taken hold, and I fear I will not be able to continue. "I need to rest. Please let me rest," I beg.

"There will be no more rest for you, My Lady. The time is now." Her hand lies over my belly as the child squirms, fighting his way out. "I can feel another pain coming, Isabella. You must work with your body to push him out. Your child is almost here. I can see the hairs upon his head."

As the tightening increases, so does the pain along with it. I grit my teeth, press my chin to my chest, and push with all the strength I have left in my body. The burning and stretching is like nothing I have ever felt, and I tilt my head back. The last of my breath leaves me in a high-pitched wail.

"Slow now, Isabella, slow. The head is out. With the next pain, you will push again, and his shoulders will be free. It will not be long now until you have your child in your arms."

I nod my agreement, but doubt lingers as the next pain builds. Again, I grit my teeth and push as the women beside me whisper their words of encouragement.

The midwife crouches low, her hands poised to catch. With a guttural cry and one final grunt, the pressure releases, and I collapse in the arms of my friend and sister. My eyes close, and my weary body sags in their hold. A mere moment later, the lusty cry of my child fills the room.

I open my eyes and am met with a breathtaking sight.

The midwife stands with a smile on her face, a small, wriggling bundle in her hands. "Your son, Your Highness."

With trembling hands, I reach for him, and when he is finally in my arms, I am overtaken with emotion. Tears of joy stream down my cheeks, and I place a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "Hello, my son."

It takes no time at all for my bedchamber to be set to rights. The midwife and her attendants have removed all traces of the birth. All the bundles of soiled linens are gone, and a meal has been brought for me. The sun has set, and a fire has been lit to chase away the coolness of the evening, lest my son catch a chill. I lie abed with my child in my arms and soak up the splendor that is him.

His soft sighs and suckling sounds are almost my undoing, and I can feel my heart expanding in my chest. And even though the desire to close my eyes and sleep is powerful, I cannot stop myself from tracing his delicate features with the tip of my finger—his pouty lips, his button nose, and his round cheeks. I am struck speechless with his beauty. His hair shines in the firelight, and I know in the light of day it will resemble his father's bronze locks.

The king has been informed of the child's arrival, and I am told a formal announcement will be made at sunrise. He has yet to come and see the babe for himself. My only request has been that no messenger is sent to inform Edward. No matter how important, I do not wish for my news to be a distraction.

With my son cradled to my breast, I lie back against the pillows and close my eyes. Through the night, I wake at the sounds of my son. The midwife, one of her maids, or Angela is always there to assist me. My fatigue is bone-deep, but I care for my son with a smile on my face.

When I open my eyes at the sound of my son's soft cries, the morning sun shines through the window.

"Shh, shh. None of that." I try to quiet him as I untie the laces of my shift. It takes a moment to settle him at my breast, but soon enough he is latched on, and I settle back into my bed. I sit and watch him, not looking up when my bedchamber door opens.

"Good morning, My Lady," Angela says as she places my meal on a side table. "The king is just about to make the announcement. We should be hearing the herald's horn any moment." She moves toward the window and pulls it open. And as if on cue, the sounds of the herald's horn blares in the quiet of the morning.

A smile graces my face, knowing how happy the news of an heir will make all of Galon. But before I can think too much on it, the sounds of the horns becomes disjointed before ceasing altogether.

"What—"

"I will go find out." Angela excuses herself and slips from my room.

It is not until much later, after my son is fed and changed, that Angela returns. And when she does, she stumbles through the doorway, out of breath as if she ran the entire way.

"What is it?" I ask, holding my son close.

"A lone rider has returned from the battlefield, My Lady."

My first thought is that the battle must be over, a vision of introducing my husband to our son fills my mind, but then I take in her expression—her face pale, her eyes glassy.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

"They've sent out the call to close the castle gates and organize the men." She swallows hard, and when her worried eyes meet mine, dread fills my gut. "Rhema is approaching from the west."

A/N: So, on the plus side, you only have to wait a few days for the next one. I'd love to hear your thoughts, even if they're to yell at me! And while I've already chosen a name for the little one, I would also love to hear your suggestions on what they should name the young prince.

Recs this week ...

If you like kings, queens, knights, and fair maidens, which you obviously do, ;) check out Thrice Betrothed by Fyrebyrd. Summary: What happens when a small sacrifice for your country becomes the greatest sacrifice you will ever make.

And a current WIP I'm itching to get back to is Roadies by xXTailoredDreamsXx. Summary: Edward Cullen is the newest stage manager on his first major tour. He's out to prove he's earned his title, as well as the respect that comes with it. Bella Swan is the only woman on the crew, and she knows better than to believe Cullen didn't sleep his way to the top in order to get the job she feels was rightfully hers. Will they be able to co-exist without killing each other?

And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon!

Lots of love

~Sunshine