Chapter 38: The Missing Midwife

The cradle was a warning and an invitation. Darius wanted to burn it. Nora refused until every tag had been recorded. There were thirty-two names beneath hers. Some old enough to belong to women already dead. Some recent enough that the ink had not faded. Lina recognized three. By the fourth name, she had stopped speaking and simply pointed. Nora wrapped the tags in her cloak with hands that would not stay steady. "They kept records of babies," she said. "Breeding houses do," Darius replied. The coldness in his voice did not hide the rage beneath it. The root on Nora's wrist pointed off the road. They followed on foot because the horses refused. Snow swallowed sound. The trees grew too straight, too evenly spaced, like soldiers planted by a patient enemy. After half a mile, they found smoke. Not from a house. From a chimney rising out of the hill. The midwife house had been built underground. Its door was hidden beneath a frozen creek bed. Frost guards cleared the ice. Darius broke the lock with one twist of his hand. The smell inside was clean. That was the worst part. Boiled linen. Herbs. Old milk. Silver polish. Nora had expected cells. Chains. Blood. Instead, she found a nursery. White walls. Rocking chairs. A shelf of folded blankets. A ledger on a desk. Everything arranged with the tenderness of people who wanted cruelty to look like care. Maeve cursed softly. Lina picked up a wooden toy wolf and threw it across the room. Darius opened the ledger. "Do not," Nora said, but he had already seen. His face changed. Nora took the book from him. The first section listed mothers. Bloodline. Pack. Fertility status. Temperament. Compliance risk. Her mother's name appeared on page fourteen. Elara Ashford. Crown-moon carrier. Refused transfer. Delivered female child. Child unsuitable for Thornveil claim due to maternal concealment. Mother removed from rotation. Removed. Nora gripped the desk. Darius's hand came to her back. This time she leaned into it. "My mother did not die of fever," she said. "No." At the back of the ledger was a newer page. Nora Ashford. Crown-moon carrier confirmed. Pregnant. Child viable. Current protector: Darius Frost. Retrieval priority: highest. Maeve read over her shoulder and went pale. "They have been updating this." "Inside Frosthold," Darius said. The traitor again. A sound came from behind the nursery wall. Everyone froze. Tap. Tap. Tap. Lina whispered, "That is pipe code." Nora moved toward the wall. Darius caught her arm. "Let me." He found the seam and pulled. A narrow panel opened onto darkness. Inside sat an old woman wrapped in gray wool, wrists chained to a pipe. Her hair was white, her eyes sharp, and around her neck hung a midwife's moon charm. She looked at Nora's stomach first. Then at Nora's face. "Elara's girl," she rasped. Nora knelt. "You knew my mother?" "I delivered you." The room vanished for a heartbeat. The old woman leaned forward, chain rattling. "And if Thornveil finds you here, I will have delivered you twice into their hands."