Nevara
The room felt impossibly quiet after everyone left.
For hours, there had been voices, monitors, midwives, family members. Now there was only Thoren, me, and the tiny white-haired girl sleeping against his chest.
“ShelleBelle,” I murmured.
Thoren glanced up from Ariella. “You are encouraging him.”
“I am not calling her ShelleBelle. I was testing it.”
His eyebrow lifted, which only made me smile as I reached over and brushed one finger across her cheek. “Shelly.”
The shortened name settled differently. Softer. Closer.
“Shelly,” I repeated. “I like that.”
Thoren looked down at her again, considering it. “So do I.”
“Ariella Michelle is perfect for a princess. It sounds formal enough for announcements, ceremonies, and whatever painfully long title people eventually attach to he
