SOMETIME PAST EVENTIDE and before the crack of dawn, one brother shook another awake.

       "Ladislas!" hissed Prince Raolet, the eldest. There was a certain note of panic in his quavering voice. "Ladislas, wake up! Come on!"

       He grasped the younger boy's shoulder and shoved it, as though he had no time to waste. Raolet was normally gentle—but this time, his movements were rushed and rough. The worry in his voice was evident. Ladislas picked up on it as he regained consciousness from his slumber. His eyes flew open and he frantically shot into a sitting position.

       "What? What happened? What's wrong?" he demanded, looking towards his older brother through the darkness. He saw nothing but Raolet's silhouette, outlined by the strips of moonlight filtering through the window. Ladislas's voice was still thick with exhaustion, but the mere thought of a threat forced him to become alert.

       "It's Mother, she's... she's about to..."

       He didn't even finish the thought, and instead bolted through the doorway and out of sight. Ladislas's mind required a few moments to digest just what Raolet had meant before he too ran through the doorway.

       As he ran, his mother's screams grew louder. Each one was a dagger to the prince's chest. The guards standing in the hallways bowed as he passed, until he reached the door to the bedroom of the king and queen.

       Raolet and Ixidor were both there already, still wearing their nightwear. They leaned against the wall in front of the door, but were not permitted to enter until the birth was over. Ladislas attempted to cast them a smile, but neither one smiled back. Nights like these were never exciting occasions, for the brothers couldn't rest easy and always had to fear for Queen Roswina's life.

       After all they had lost, they couldn't lose her.

       Ladislas eased his way between his brothers. He looked at Ixidor, who was shaking; he rested his head upon the older boy's shoulder, but was immediately shrugged off. Ixidor began pacing up and down the corridors, his eyes downcast and his dark hair dishevelled from sleep.

       "Just leave him," Raolet advised, grimacing sadly. "You know he's not the affectionate type when he's nervous."

       In response, the youngest prince rested his head on Raolet's shoulder instead. Raolet's breathing grew ragged as he pressed his cheek against the top of Ladislas's head. In the distance, Ladislas heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He felt his brother tense as their father swept into view, flanked by more guards, his cloak billowing out behind him.

       King Warrenus stopped to survey his three sons, his face hostile. When his black eyes fell on Ladislas, his nostrils flared. "Ladislas, stand up straight," he said gruffly.

       The prince lifted his head from his brother's shoulder. He couldn't refrain from glaring at his father, but the King of Naryllitsa didn't even notice as he strode into the bedroom inside which his wife was giving birth. Without the door to muffle the sound, Queen Roswina's cries were much more shrill.

       Once it had closed again, Ixidor returned to his brothers' sides and let out a string of crude swear words directed at the king. "Why is he even pretending that he cares enough to see his queen give birth? He couldn't care less about this baby, just like he didn't care about his three dead ones! As long as it wasn't the future king, who gives a fuck if his beloved children are to die—"

       A lump formed in Ladislas's throat and a distant memory resurfaced to the forefront of his mind. He saw his father sitting on his throne as though nothing had happened, without a single tear to shed, while the children's caskets loomed nearby.

       Raolet clapped his hand over Ixidor's mouth and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Not now, Ixidor. If he hears you, he'll—"

       Ixidor pried the hand away from his mouth. His jaw was clenched tightly and his words came out as low growls from the back of his throat. There was a look of utter insanity in his eyes, because King Warrenus had driven his second-born to unbridled rage.

       "He'll what, exactly, Raolet? He won't do anything. I'm safe because I'm a son and not a daughter. He would never harm one of the potential heirs to the throne because that's all any of his sons ever are to him. He never so much as looked at Orithyia and Iristain when they were alive—"

       "Shut up, Ixidor!" Raolet said in a panicked whisper, his gaze sweeping over the guards. "Now is not the time, just keep your mouth shut." He leaned over to whisper in Ixidor's ear, just loud enough for Ladislas to be able to decipher the words, but not loud enough for any of the guards. "We'll get our revenge. You have my word about that."

       The three boys could not talk of their mutual hatred for their father within the castle's confines—they were always surrounded by guards and servants—but they had a sort of silent understanding that if he ever hurt someone they loved, he wouldn't live to tell the tale.

       Even Ladislas, the gentlest man in the family, lacking any desire to hurt a single creature, would have gladly plunged a sword into his own father's chest.

       Ixidor relaxed and slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. Ladislas eyed Raolet and they both sat down next to him, awaiting news of their mother and the new infant.

       With a backdrop of their mother's sobs and words of comfort being whispered by the handmaiden and midwife, they sat on the carpeted floor for what felt like an eternity. Through the windows, Ladislas watched the sky bleed from black to dark blue. When the sun finally began coming into view, the sky was dancing with hues of pink and orange.

       It would've made a lovely painting

       They continued sitting in half silence for a long while, each immersed in the depths of their own minds. Just when Ladislas's eyelids began to droop, he was startled into alertness once more.

       "I suppose now that she isn't going to be pregnant anymore, we have to worry about him beating her again," Ixidor mumbled bitterly, taking care to keep his voice down. "Perhaps he'll die of old age sometime soon."

       "Perhaps he'll die of something else soon," Ladislas suggested, exhaustion still keeping its hold on his voice.

       The mischievous prince stared at the younger one in awe, causing turning his cheeks and ears scarlet. Then, his face broke out into a grin that failed to reach his eyes. "Ah, I love it when Little Laddie gets violent. Don't you, Raolet? It happens so rarely, we should cherish these mo—"

       He stopped talking and jumped to his feet before either of the other two realized what had happened. Then, they looked towards the bedroom door, which was open. Sedille, the queen's handmaiden, was sticking her head out and looked nervously out at the princes.

       "Her Majesty asked me to let you in, Your Highnesses," said the handmaiden, looking nervous. "But..."

       "But what, Sedille?" Ixidor snapped. "Spit it out, how is she? And the baby? Is it a boy or a girl?"

       "It's—well—I—"

       "Sedille."

       She cleared her throat and started again. "There is more than one child."

       "There are two?" Raolet exclaimed.

       The handmaiden took a deep breath and shook her head. "Three."

       Ladislas gasped and pressed his lips together tightly. Raolet seemed to be on the verge of fainting and Ixidor appeared just about to knock the handmaiden over to get past her.

       "I'm going to need to get two more governesses so that there will be one for each of the children," said Sedille, before stepping aside. "Come on in, Your Highnesses can see the queen and the infants."

       They wasted no time entering. When Ladislas strode in, he felt slightly light-heralded with disbelief and shock. His eyes fell on his mother, whose brow was shining with sweat. She had bags under her eyes, but she glowed with happiness. It was then that he saw that there were indeed three bundles: two were being held in the queen's arms, and the governess had the third.

       Raolet immediately surged forward and kissed Roswina's cheek before leaning at her bedside.

       The king, as Ladislas had suspected, was sitting disinterestedly in one of the chairs. Raolet, Ixidor and Ladislas all ignored him and turned to their mother, glad to see her alive and well.

       "Two girls," Roswina whispered to the ceiling, "and a boy. Oh, merciful God, it is a miracle. You've given me back what I've lost."

       A smile played across her lips and tears fell fast.

       Ladislas smiled back at her and looked down at the infants swathed in cloth. Not one out of the three was crying—they simply squirmed and cooed. For a moment, nothing else mattered to Ladislas.

       Not his father, who was too selfish to look at his children.

       Not his heart, which had been reduced to embers with the lisianthus garden.

       Not the fear and anguish that he'd felt every day for three months.

       Nothing mattered but the three infants. Ladislas remembered the promise he had made to his mother about always protecting them. And he made a silent promise that he would give his life for any of the three if he ever needed to.