The high pitched wails of an infant filled the crowded bedchamber, loud and piercing.
With a groan, Celia tried to push herself up on her elbows to see better. The sweat from her forehead rolled into one of her eyes, making it sting and turning her vision foggy. She didn't care, though.
Please Lord, she prayed desperately. Please, please let it be-
"It's a healthy boy, Your Grace! A little prince for Havietten, finally!" one of the midwives cried out with glee.
Celia felt relief and elation pummel through her veins at hearing the words. She fell back against the pillows, still panting and her frame shaking from exhaustion. A boy.
She'd done it. A boy. Finally.
The prayer on her lips changed to one of thankfulness.
In truth, she'd never cared much for herself what the baby's sex was. She knew that boy or girl, the child was someone she already loved to her very depths of her soul.