Another month passed by in the Blackridge mansion.
Celine was now eight months pregnant, everyone in Blackridge knew the birth of Deucalion’s heir was getting close.
The mansion was busy, but the celebration was quieter than the one held when Aria had been pregnant. There were fewer gifts, fewer visitors, and less excitement from the pack.
Celine noticed.
She stood near the nursery window while two maids arranged tiny clothes inside a wooden chest.
“Is that everything?” she asked.
“Yes, My Lady,” one maid replied. “We still need to bring the blankets.”
Celine nodded. She touched one of the small shirts and smiled. “Our baby will need more than this.”
The maid smiled. “There will be time to prepare the rest.”
Celine looked toward the doorway. “Make sure the healer checks everythin
