Free The Titan of Twilight by Troy Denning

child’s hair. She was already having a difficult time with labor, and any suggestion that the child wasn’t Tavis’s might dishearten her to the point of giving up.
    “Firbolgs don’t trust anyone who can lie.” Avner was thinking fast. “They’ll think you’re trying to trick them.”
    Brianna’s face fell. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a short cry. Avner glanced down at her belly and saw the infant’s head pressed hard against her pelvic bone. Her womb walls quivered with the effort of trying to force him through the pelvic cavity.
    “I’m… too… weak.” Brianna clutched Avner’s arm, and seemed to be trying to pull herself into a kneeling position. “I can’t do this… not alone.”
    “Majesty, you’re not alone.” Avner slipped his hand under her arm, then looked up. Thatcher was still staring at the wall. “Thatcher, help me with the queen. I think she wants to kneel.”
    “Of course, with Her Majesty’s permission.” The front rider reluctantly turned to obey. “Please pardon my cold—in the name of Stronmaus!”
    The man’s eyes had fallen on Brianna’s transparent womb and remained locked there. His jaw hung slack, and his brows were arched.
    “What’s wrong?” Brianna slumped onto her back, sweat streaming from her brow as she struggled to peer down at her swollen belly. “What…is it?” she gasped. “Deform… ities? Is it a monster?”
    “No, not at all,” Avner replied. He pushed the staring front rider toward the front of the mine, whispering, “Go back to the portal. Tell Gryffitt to keep me informed, and to keep an eye out for those scouting parties. They should be here by now.”
    The front rider had barely left before the scout felt Brianna’s fingers digging into his arm.
    “Avner, tell me!”
    Before answering, the scout tried to free his arm, fearing Brianna would break it when she heard what he had to say. Like all Hartwicks, the strength of her giant ancestors still ran in the queen’s blood. Even in her weakened condition, her grip was powerful enough to crush bone.
    The queen’s fingers only dug deeper into his flesh. “The baby’s in… trouble.”
    Her eyes were once again glassy with pain, and they drifted away from his face. “It’s not… dead?”
    Avner took Brianna by her shoulders. “From what I can see, your baby’s alive and healthy.”
    This seemed to calm the queen. “It’s… if s breech?”
    Avner took a breath, then shook his head. “The child looks as if it might have been fathered by Stronmaus,” he said. “It’s large.”
    “Large?”
    “Maybe thirty pounds. It looks like a two-year-old,” Avner clarified. “It can’t fit through your pelvis.”
    Brianna scowled. “That… just… can’t be,” she objected. “Gerda said… she said no bab—iiiaaaargh!”
    The queen’s yell was so loud that Blizzard flinched and clattered a step back into the darkness. Brianna’s womb had closed around the infant like a fist. It was pushing the child against her pelvis so hard that the baby had nearly doubled in two. The young scout placed his hands on Brianna’s transparent belly, directly over the crumpled infant, and pushed against her womb.
    Brianna howled more loudly and beat her hands against the floor. Blizzard came out of the shadows, nickering at Avner. He ignored the petulant mare and kept his eyes fixed on the queen’s anguished face.
    “I’m sorry, Majesty,” he said. ‘Tour own belly’s going to kill him. I don’t know what else to do.”
    The queen’s fist came down again, and a small piece of granite broke in two.
    “The firbolgs have found us for sure.” Gryffitt did not bother speaking quietly. “They’re bunching up!”
    “How long before they get here?” Avner asked. He could not imagine moving the queen, but neither could he imagine letting the firbolgs catch her here. “Do we have time to finish the delivery?”
    “We have a while,” Gryffitt replied. “Maybe ten minutes,