The river looked like melted silver under the night sky, lanterns drifting along its edges like lazy stars that had fallen from above and decided to rest. For once, nobody was shouting my name. Nobody was asking me to push, breathe, decide, feed, sit, stand, or explain anything. It was just the queens, the hush of water, and the distant, respectful quiet of servants pretending not to exist and that was the first thing i appreciated.
Esmeralda had orchestrated this with the confidence of someone reviving an old secret. She called it tradition something that began with the second queen consort years ago when palace life had nearly swallowed a new mother whole. Since then, every woman who gave birth in this palace had been brought here before the naming, to wash off worry and be held by the river instead of responsibility.
I did not realize how badly I needed it until my feet touched the water.
