Antony barely remembered touching the ground when he reached the manor. His wings folded behind him before his boots had even settled properly against the pale stone path, and he was already moving toward the entrance, nearly colliding with one of the servants who had opened the door after hearing the commotion outside.
The manor was nowhere near as grand as the residences owned by the more powerful Lords. There were no towering spires, floating courtyards, enormous halls plated in gold, or defensive formations powerful enough to withstand an army.
Antony had never needed any of that. The manor was only three floors tall, built from smooth white stone and dark timber, with broad windows that allowed sunlight into nearly every room and balconies overlooking the gardens surrounding the property.
It was beautiful, though; that had almost entirely been Roxanna’s doing.
Before she moved in, he had treated the manor like an oversized military barracks that happened to contain a bedroom.
The furniture had been whatever the territory’s craftsmen could make cheaply, most of the walls had been bare, and Antony’s idea of decorating his study had consisted of hanging a map above his desk.
Roxanna had taken one look around after moving in and quietly declared the place depressing.
Five years later, flowers grew along the windows, paintings covered some of the previously empty walls, warm carpets stretched through the halls, and almost every room carried some small touch that made the building feel less like the residence of a Lord and more like an actual home.
Antony noticed absolutely none of it as he rushed inside.
"Where is she?"
"My Lord, upstairs!"
"How long has it been?"
"Not long! The contractions began shortly before we sent the guard for you."
"Why wasn’t someone sent immediately?"
"We did send someone immediately!"
He opened his mouth, realized the servant was right, and continued running.
"Fine! Good! You did well!"
The servant stared after him.
Antony took the stairs two at a time.
Several servants moved aside the moment they saw him approaching, while two guards posted near the upper corridor straightened so quickly that one nearly dropped his spear.
The entire manor seemed to have awakened at once. Servants carried basins of warm water and bundles of cloth through the hallway, one of the healers hurried toward a nearby room carrying bottles of medicine, while another servant emerged from Roxanna’s chambers looking considerably more nervous than he would have preferred.
Then Antony heard her, a cry echoed from farther down the corridor.
His blood went cold.
"Roxanna."
He ran to the room without a care for decorum.
"My Lord!"
Someone called after him, but Antony had already reached the double doors at the end of the hall.
Two female guards stood there alongside several servants, and one immediately stepped in front of him.
"My Lord, the midwife ordered that no one enter unless..."
He reached for the door.
"My Lord."
"Move."
"The midwife specifically said..."
Another cry came from inside.
"Honey!"
Every muscle in Antony’s body tightened. He looked at the guard as though he was ready to fight her.
The woman immediately moved.
"Thank you."
He pushed the doors open.
"My Lord, wait!"
He didn’t.
The delivery room had originally been one of the larger guest chambers, but Roxanna had ordered it converted several weeks earlier.
Clean white sheets covered the large bed near the center, several magical lamps illuminated the room despite the sunlight coming through the windows, and healing formations had been carved into small crystal plates positioned around the walls.
At least six people were inside.
Antony recognized the elderly Angel midwife standing beside the bed, two healers assisting her, Roxanna’s personal maid, and several attendants preparing whatever the midwife requested.
None of them mattered the moment he saw his wife.
Roxanna was lying against the raised pillows with damp strands of brilliant white hair stuck across her forehead and cheeks.
Usually her hair seemed almost metallic beneath sunlight, smooth and shining like freshly fallen snow beneath moonlight. Right now it was disheveled, spread across the pillows behind her while her face remained flushed from exertion.
Her blue eyes immediately found him. Those eyes had been one of the first things Antony noticed seven years ago.
Most Angels possessed some variation of grey eyes, ranging from pale silver to deep charcoal. Antony himself should have possessed them after his transformation ten years earlier, but instead he had awakened with green eyes and long golden hair.
Roxanna was stranger still.
Her eyes were blue, but calling them merely blue never seemed enough. Tiny points of shifting light sometimes appeared inside them, almost like distant stars suspended within a night sky.
When Antony had first met her, he’d spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering whether he was imagining it.
He hadn’t been.
"Antony."
"I’m here."
Her expression immediately softened despite the pain.
"Sweetheart."
He instantly crossed the room.
The midwife stepped toward him. "My Lord, you shouldn’t..."
"My mana."
That stopped her.
Antony was already beside the bed.
"The child is drawing from her, isn’t he?"
The midwife’s expression tightened.
"Yes."
His stomach dropped. Roxanna reached her hand toward him, which he immediately took.
"Hey. I’m here."
"I know."
"You should have sent someone earlier."
Roxanna somehow managed to give him an incredulous look.
"We sent someone the moment it began."
"Then you should have started later."
For half a second she simply stared at him. Then, despite everything, she laughed. It quickly turned into a grimace as another contraction struck.
Her fingers closed around his hand with enough force that he felt the bones complain.
Antony winced.
"Right. Yes. Laughing was apparently a terrible idea."
"Don’t make jokes!"
"You were the one laughing."
"Antony!"
"I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry."
The midwife moved quickly.
"My Lord, behind her. Now. We need your mana flowing through her core before the next contraction."
Antony kicked off his boots without caring where they landed before climbing onto the bed behind Roxanna. He positioned himself against the headboard and carefully pulled her backward until she was resting against his chest.
The moment his arms wrapped around her, he felt how violently her body was trembling. His brief attempt at humor disappeared.
"Roxanna."
"I’m all right."
"No, you’re not."
"I will be."
"That’s not the same thing."
She turned her head slightly, even now, she smiled at him.
"Sweetheart, breathe."
He blankly stared at her.
"You’re telling me to breathe?"
"You’re panicking."
"My wife is giving birth to a child currently trying to drain mana from her body. I think I’m permitted a little panic."
"Not more than me."
"Fine."
The midwife interrupted them.
"My Lord, your palm against the center of her back. Direct your mana slowly, do not force it into her core. Her divine pathways are sealed, so you’ll have to allow the mana to spread naturally through the open channels."
He immediately obeyed and placed one hand against Roxanna’s back while keeping the other wrapped around her waist.
Then he closed his eyes.
Mana stirred inside him; compared to Roxanna’s true reserves, his mana was laughable.
When they had first met, he hadn’t understood just how enormous the difference between them actually was. He had been stronger than many of his Lesser Angels, largely because his status as Lord continuously strengthened him alongside the territory, but Roxanna had been something else entirely.
SSS-ranked and a Goddess.
At full strength, the amount of mana Antony currently possessed would barely qualify as a drop against the ocean contained within her divine core.
But that ocean was currently inaccessible.