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He could hardly call it sketching. “Scribbling” was more like it. It was all he could do. Callum couldn’t look up at the healers anymore who would walk in periodically, lean over Rayla to poke and prod her, only to mutter under their breaths, shake their heads and reconvene in the corridor outside. Heaven forbid anyone tell her husband what was going on. It was only his wife and their unborn child’s lives on the line— no, why should Callum have any say on the matter? How stupid was he to even think that?
The charcoal lead split against the page where he had been shading Rayla’s drawn, sickly face, and he hurled it across the room with a growl. The chamber door opened and King Ezran, carrying a tray with tea and a plate of jelly tarts, watched the pencil sail to hit the wall with a thunk, just missing his head.
“Looks like you took my advice and had that nap I suggested,” his younger brother tried lightly, but Callum was having none of it. Slamming his sketchbook shut, he flung it on the nightstand and stood to pace the floor for what felt like the twentieth time that day. If he kept going in this same spot, he was going to wear a hole in the wooden floor.
“What are they saying out there?” He whipped his head towards Ezran, his emerald gaze sharp as daggers. “The truth. Don’t soften it for me.”
“There’s no change,” Ezran relayed, setting his tray on the table between their two chairs where they sat facing Rayla’s hauntingly still form in the bed. “She and the baby are both alive, but… Callum, they’re not sure if that’ll still be the case by the time Rayla’s given birth.”
“So we really might lose the baby. Or…” He slumped back into the chair closest to her bed, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t even say it out loud. He refused to, because he wasn’t going to let it happen. Rayla was the strongest, fiercest woman he had ever known. For something like this to claim her so suddenly was unthinkable.
“Callum, I’m sorry.” An arm slid around him, gripping him tight in a side hug. “I’m so sorry this happened. No one deserves this but… you and Rayla especially don’t.”
“Thanks, Ez,” Callum sniffled. A wheeze emitted from the bed and Rayla rolled her head towards them, her eyes still scrunched shut in pain and her hand clutching at her swollen middle.
“They said she just needs to rest until she enters labor,” Ezran went on, but Callum barely heard as he knelt at her side, gripping her sweaty hand in his.
“Rayla, shh… shh… it’s okay.” He brushed her fine silver hair back from her slick forehead and placed a tender kiss there. “I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” Rayla’s fingers curled just a bit tighter around his, prompting tears to spring to his eyes. “She’s still burning up, Ezran.”
“Here.” Ezran squeezed out a cloth from a bowl of ice cold water and passed it to his brother, who laid it gently over Rayla’s forehead. She sighed at the cooling sensation before opening her eyes halfway.
“Hey,” she greeted the both of them hoarsely.
“Hey yourself,” Callum whispered.
“How are you feeling?” Ezran asked.
“Everythin’ hurts,” Rayla groaned, her hand rubbing her pregnant belly. “The bairn’s not well, I can feel it.”
“It’s okay, we’re gonna figure this out.” Callum turned quickly to his brother, “We need to have the healers induce labor.”
“That’s not a call we can make,” Ezran hissed, his eyes widening in shock.
“If my wife and child are in danger, then yeah, it’s a call I’m gonna make!”
“Ez… is right…” came Rayla’s weak interjection. “You can’t control this, Callum. Any more… than I can.”
“Oh Rayla…” Callum cupped his hand around her face and wiped away the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
“She’s dyin’, Callum.” Her weakened voice broke off in a sob, fumbling arms reaching for her husband, who trembled as he gripped her to his chest.
“‘She’?” Callum asked softly, and Rayla nodded against his neck.
“I’ve known for awhile now.” She managed a small smile, craning her neck to look over at Ezran. “You’re gettin’ a niece, Ez.”
“I can’t wait,” the king said softly. “Knowing who her parents are, she’s gonna be the toughest kid in Katolis.”
Rayla tried to laugh, but wound up wheezing instead, her lungs gasping for air as Callum cast a slight “Ventus Spiralis” and helped her breathe deeply along with him, running the cool cloth over her forehead.
“Rayla,” he swallowed hard, “You’re not doing so well either.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that!” He pressed his lips against hers, not even caring that Ezran was sitting right beside them. “You’re going to get through this, Rayla. You and our baby.” Callum laid his hand over her stomach and stroked it gently, his brow furrowing when he felt no movement.
“I love you…” Her hand fell away from his face, the last words she breathed before she slipped back under.
“I love you, too. Be strong.”
“The finest healers in the entire realm are taking care of both of them,” Ezran assured, placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I know… I just wish it was enough.”
In the middle of the night, under the light of the full moon, their daughter was born. It was far from the glorified experience Callum had been led to believe it would be. There was so much blood, and he had never seen Rayla in so much agony— screaming, writhing, practically shattering every bone in Callum’s hand as she clung to him in her most dire hour. The infant had not made a sound upon birth, frightening both of her parents into believing their worst nightmare had come true. It was only when Rayla had begged tearfully to hold her child and began to rock her, humming an ancient Xadian lullaby her parents used to sing to her, that at last a little miracle wail was heard.
They named her Arielle Sarai; a brief moment of joy before she was whisked out of their arms and surrounded on all sides by healers. The next several hours were a blur, partly due to the uncertainty of the whole situation, and partly because Callum hadn’t slept at all.
“Both of their fevers refuse to break.”
“The infant princess’s breathing is irregular.”
“Princess Rayla is unable to keep food down or remain conscious for long.”
Multiple times he was asked to leave, and every time he snarled that he would resist even if forcibly dragged from the room. No one was in a position to argue with Katolis’s High Mage on that account, so they left him to his own devices. Stacks of spellbooks were brought into their chambers so Callum could desperately comb through every page for any healing spell he had yet to master.
“You need to stop.” He flinched wildly at Ezran’s hand on his back, his brother drawing back suddenly as if he had been burned when he entered the room early in the evening. He had brought Soren with him this time, the crownguard peering into the crib with a half-smile.
“Aww, she’s got your hair and your goofy little nose,” he cooed. “But the face and pointy ears? Yeah, that's definitely Rayla.”
“Thanks for the analysis,” Callum shot at him curtly. Of course he knew that much. At night when he wasn’t dozing in the chair beside his wife, he wandered over to the cream-colored bassinet and spent what felt like hours just staring at Arielle. Letting his finger caress her tiny hand and praying to the spirits of his parents to watch over both her and Rayla. To just help them get well again, no matter what it took.
“Sorry, just trying to point out the positives,” Soren said, holding up his hands before moving to Rayla’s bedside, where she slept fitfully. “How is she?”
“They think the blood loss on top of her fevers took a huge toll on her.” Callum slammed the final book in his lap shut and threw his head into his hands. “Nothing. There’s nothing in any of these— I knew there wouldn’t be.”
“Maybe the healers can—”
“The healers don’t know anything either, Ezran,” Callum cut him off with a raised edge to his voice. “There hasn’t been a conception or birth between a human and an elf since the continent was divided— that was over a thousand years ago. These books barely go back three hundred years.”
“Then maybe you just need to… wait it out?” Soren suggested, and Callum’s dark-circled eyes narrowed dangerously in his direction.
“Just ‘wait out’ the fates of my wife and daughter? That’s your advice?”
“Look I’m no expert, but maybe what they need from you right now isn’t a solution. That’s the professionals’ jobs, right?” He came around the bed and sat on the floor in front of Callum, pulling the thick tome out of his lap and tossing it aside. “You’re not the High Mage right now, so cut this out.”
“You’re not the Crown Prince either,” Ezran added, crouching beside him. “You're a husband and a father. Just… just be there for Rayla. And for Arielle.”
“That’s not good enough!” Callum shouted, his voice breaking. “That’s— that’s not useful to either of them, that’s just—!”
“Oh yeah, I bet if Rayla were awake right now, she’d love the fact that you’ve been sitting here for two days straight looking for magical quick-fixes to your problems,” Soren rolled his eyes, an uncharacteristic bite in his tone. “Rather than, I dunno, getting some sleep. Taking care of yourself. Shooting a supportive word to her or your newborn daughter every once in awhile.”
“Shut up, Soren,” Callum hissed, the sigils for about five different destructive spells appearing in his mind’s eye for a split second before his flaring anger simmered. “You don’t know anything. Neither of you have any idea what it feels like to sit here for hours watching the person you love suffer. Watching your newborn child suffer. Watching healers just shake their heads and shrug their shoulders while we all just hope tonight isn’t their last.”
“Callum,” Ezran began carefully. “Look at it this way: When things turn around— and I believe they will— you’ll have done your part to give Rayla and Arielle the support they needed, and are going to need while they recover. But…” He hung his head, “If things… don’t go well. For one or both of them. At least… at least you’ll have spent their last days loving them as best you could.”
“Yeah,” Soren muttered under his breath. “Yeah that’s— that’s what I was trying to say but it didn’t come out that well.”
Callum felt a lump rise hot and thick in his throat, raising a trembling hand to his mouth. Had he really been sure he could find a healing spell to fix all of this? Or had he just been trying to distract himself from the reality in front of his face? Rayla’s pallid, sunken cheeks. Arielle’s slightly blue-tinged lips. The unbearable silence, lacking a baby’s crying or her mother’s comforting murmurs.
Something finally did break the silence in the room, but it was far from comforting. Rayla’s breath seized suddenly in her sleep, then again and again as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and the three young men leapt up from the floor and rushed to her bedside.
“What’s going on?” Soren cried, watching in horror as Rayla’s entire body twitched and shook beneath the blankets.
Callum’s face had instantly paled, “No… no no no, they warned me this could happen.”
“Who did?! What could happen?!”
“The healers!” Callum roared impatiently at Soren. “Being in labor, giving birth— it practically tore Rayla’s body apart! Now she’s going into shock and she could lapse into a fatal seizure if we don’t do something!”
“Guys, yelling isn’t helping anything,” Ezran said calmly, just as the sound of a baby’s punctured cries wafted over to them from the crib. “Callum, just tell us what to do.”
“Soren, help me get Rayla onto her side,” Callum ordered, already ripping the blankets off of her to free her jolting limbs. “Ezran, try to calm Arielle; she likes it when you sing or hum to her. Make sure you support her head properly, she’s not getting enough oxygen in her lungs.”
“Rayla, c’mon,” Soren encouraged her softly, then grunted as he rolled her over. Immediately she coughed and vomited bile up onto the pillow. “Good— that’s good, right?”
“Not ‘til the convulsions, stop— it’s been over two minutes already.” He couldn’t stop his tone from sounding so short with both of them, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his consistently shuddering wife, gagging and heaving deeply as if her body were rejecting the very last dregs of life flowing through it. No Rayla, you can’t… you can’t…
“Hey Arielle, it’s your Uncle Ezran,” Callum heard his brother from the other side of the bed, where he lifted his arms out of the bassinet and cradled his infant niece. “You’re such a pretty girl, aren’t you? I can’t wait until you open your eyes and we can see your smile…”
“Callum?!” Soren suddenly shouted as Rayla arched her head backwards, gasping hoarsely. The high mage leapt to the other side of the bed and practically shoved the crownguard over so he could get a proper look at her.
“Support her from behind,” Callum said to Soren in a quivering voice, who immediately obeyed. “Make sure she doesn’t fall onto her back again.” He gently cupped Rayla’s head, brushing her long hair back so it wouldn’t fall into the vomit. “Rayla, it’s me. Can you hear me? C’mon, you can do it— you can fight this. If anyone can overcome this, it’s you.”
Three minutes of convulsions passed. Four minutes passed. Callum was beginning to hyperventilate himself and even Soren was sweating in a panic. Ezran was singing to Arielle, but the young king stole glances over at the scene on the bed periodically, and his voice was strained and cracking with emotion now.
“Rayla!” The color rapidly drained from her already pale face, leaving it gray and cold as death. “Rayla no, you can’t do this! You can’t leave us! You can’t leave me!” Callum had flung himself at her onto the bed, grasping at her hand and digging his fingers into her hair. She arched her neck back farther, and only with Callum and Soren’s combined strength were they able to keep her from choking on her own bile. “Come back!” he sobbed, “Come back Rayla, please!”
“She can do this, Callum— she’ll pull through,” Soren nodded, trying to keep his tone even. “Just keep talking to her. Be her strength. Like you always have.”
“Come back…” Callum whispered it so quietly that the lightest breeze could have carried it away, laying himself next to her and stroking her sweat-soaked face. “Come back, my love. Our daughter needs you. I need you. I always have… and I always will.” He bowed his head, staring at their joined hands and listening to Ezran’s humming to their silent daughter. It was all too much for him to take; the waiting, the overwhelming feeling of utter helplessness, for what felt like ages and ages…
“She’s coming out of it!” Soren called to the both of them, and Callum wept in relief. Rayla’s hoarse gasping breaths slowed, her body ceasing its frightening convulsions as her head lolled forward in exhaustion.
“Get her a fresh pillow,” Callum commanded Ezran behind him, tossing the one covered in her sick at Soren quickly as he supported her head with his arm. He had never seen a more beautiful sight than the color slowly returning to his wife’s ill face, using a cloth from the nightstand to wipe her mouth dry. “Rayla?” he tried quietly, cradling her close, a shiver running up his spine at how weak and fragile she felt.
“C… Callum?”
“Sources, you’re awake,” the prince breathed out, pressing a deep kiss into her hair and rocking her back and forth. “Oh Rayla— Rayla—”
“What happened?” Rayla asked blearily. “The last thing I remember… was sayin’ goodnight to our girl.”
“It— you went into convulsions, Rayla. The aftereffects from childbirth. I— I thought I was gonna lose you.” He kissed both of her cheeks, not caring how awful her breath still smelled.
“That’s why I’m so tired…” She fell back against the new pillow Soren had propped up behind her head, her eyes closing almost instantly.
“Rayla?!”
“It’s okay Callum, she just needs to rest,” Soren assured him, tucking the blankets back in around her as her face relaxed peacefully, her chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm.
“Her fever’s breaking,” Ezran smiled, pressing the back of his hand against Rayla’s forehead. “I’ll be sure to thank Mom and Dad tonight before bed for looking out for her. And for Arielle,” he added, giving his niece a little kiss on top of her head.
Fisting his hands, Callum dug the heels of his palms into his forehead and began to sob heavily, all the panic, anger, sorrow, and fear pouring out of him in one fell swoop. He could hear his brother and Soren whispering words of consolation to him, feel their arms wrap around him, but all he could think of was how useless he was. Useless as a prince and high mage. Useless as a husband to the most incredible woman he had ever known. And useless as a father to his sickly newborn daughter.
The early rays of sunlight dawned upon the torturous third day of waiting and worrying. In the dead of the previous night, the high mage’s multitudinous research tomes had been removed from the room and the healers were called back by order of the king himself. Callum said nothing as Rayla and Arielle were both examined, did nothing except sit in the corner armchair with the one book left in his possession: His sketchbook.
He drew his very first sketch of his baby girl, wishing he knew what her eyes looked like. But Arielle had yet to open them in her state, still struggling so hard to breathe let alone see. Such a little thing brought into the wide open world and she was already fighting just to survive each new day. His daughter… they had been so excited for her to be born, and now…
A splotch landed on the page, smudging the graphite, Callum finally noticing that his cheeks had grown wet with tears. He didn’t care anymore. He let them fall. He was too tired and too full of sorrow to fight against his own emotions, much less the demoralizing updates from the castle healers.
“Your Highness.” Callum finally looked up from his work to see the head healer, a stately Sunfire elven mage, standing before him. “Princess Rayla appears to be improving at a gradual pace. While I would highly advise no strenuous activity for at least a month, I believe I can safely say she will recover fully.”
Callum could have leapt out of his chair and hugged him. “Thank you,” he gasped out, setting his sketchbook on the table beside him and standing cordially. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for her.”
“As for the infant Princess Arielle…” The mage’s golden eyes clouded over. “We have done all we can. Administered every healing spell, every medicinal treatment at our disposal. Should we attempt any more, it may be too much for her newborn body to handle. It is up to her alone now.”
The euphoria at his wife’s eventual recovery drained out of Callum so rapidly that he stumbled backward, his blood turning to ice in his veins and his heart thundering in his ears. There was nothing more they could do. Arielle, his innocent child, was in danger of…
“I understand…” he nodded, the words passing from his lips in a barely comprehensible whisper. His eyes darted over the mage’s shoulder, where he saw a nurse placing their baby in Rayla’s arms, a gentle smile unfurling across her beautiful face as she drew Arielle close.
“I have not yet informed Her Highness of the young Princess’s condition.”
“I’ll tell her,” Callum nearly interrupted him, holding up a trembling hand. “She— she might respond better if she hears it from me.” He thanked the mage one last time before dazedly making his way over to the bed, the other healers and nurses either taking their leave or busying themselves in corners of the chambers so as to give the royal family some privacy.
“Long time no see,” Rayla grinned over at him, her cheeks flushed with color in a way her husband had not seen since before she had gone into labor. She gently bounced little Arielle in her arms, watching her tiny nose and mouth twitch. “They just gave her more elixir, so hopefully that’ll help some—” She was cut off as Callum swooped down beside her, turning her face towards him and capturing her lips in a deep kiss. She could feel him quivering under her touch, his heart pounding hard and fast against her palm, and instantly knew something was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss Arielle’s forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Rayla asked, reaching up to dry his tears. His emerald eyes, the windows to his very soul appeared dark, haunted, and lost, far from the light and hopeful glow of a new father. “What is it?” she asked again slowly, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Callum let out a shaking breath, “Arielle… the— the healers can’t do anything else for her. Either she gets better on her own. Or…”
“No.” Rayla stared at him in horror, shaking her head. “No— no, Callum, you can’t be sayin’—”
“I’m so sorry, Rayla.” He hid his tears in her long hair as a sob escaped his wife’s throat.
“You know, growin’ up in the Silvergrove… we learned that there was nothin’ more important than protectin’ the bairns— the wee elves. Keepin’ them safe and alive, because they would carry on our legacies and stories long after we’re gone.” She shut her eyes, tears coursing down her cheeks in thick bitter tracks, “The worst tragedies, the deepest mournin’s in my home were always when parents were forced to bury their children.”
“I failed you,” Callum rasped out. “I failed her. I could have done more and I should have—”
“You’re here,” Rayla said firmly, her watering gaze pleading as she slipped her four fingers into his five. “We’re all together now. That’s what matters.”
They were alone, the staff having left several minutes earlier, and it was nearly silent aside from their baby’s harsh irregular breaths. Gently, Rayla’s soothing voice began to hum the old Xadian lullaby once again, and for a moment Callum could have sworn he saw Arielle’s head move ever so slightly in their direction. But the moment was fleeting, passing in a blink, and given he’d had very little sleep the past three days, Callum very well could have been imagining things that were too good to be true.
“Poor wee thing…” Rayla’s tone quivered as she hugged Arielle tighter to her chest, kissing her forehead lingeringly. “She’s so small and helpless, Callum.”
“I know.” He cupped his hand over his daughter’s head, feeling how alarmingly warm it still was, and tenderly smoothed down the wisps of dark brown hair. “I could try a cooling spell, but she’s so tiny and sick I’m afraid—”
“If you don’t think you should, then don’t.” His wife’s shoulders tensed, her breath hitched, the way it often did when she tried not to cry, and Callum curled his arm closer around her, pressing his lips into her hair.
“You know, Ezran’s been doing this, and I’ve been trying it too, but we should talk to her. Now that you’re— you know— not out of it as much as you were. If we keep letting Arielle know her parents are here, maybe… it’ll help.”
The baby wheezed in her arms and Rayla turned her face into her husband’s neck, silently wetting his collar with her tears. “I’ll try anythin’ at this point.” With a great sniff, she glanced down at the infant’s sleeping face and let her finger softly stroke one of her velvety cheeks. “Hey Arielle… it’s your Mummy again. I know it’s hot with this swaddle on you, but if I take it off you start shiverin’. I know— I know it hurts to breathe, but I’m gonna keep you safe until the medicine starts workin’.”
Arielle’s little face suddenly screwed up in distress, coughing out shallow ragged cries as Rayla rocked her back and forth while fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. “I know— I know, my moonbeam. But you’ve got to stay with us. Look— look, there’s your Da.” She shifted the child towards Callum, who was also weeping softly, and he slid his arm beneath her head to support it, linking his fingers with Rayla’s.
“Arielle,” he tried to say over his daughter’s crying. “Ari?” He looked to Rayla for approval, and she managed a small smile.
“I like that. It suits her.”
“Ari, it’s me. It’s your dad.” He cleared his throat, “You’ve gotta get better, okay? There’s— there’s so much your mom and I need to show you and tell you all about. Like how we saved the realm with your Uncle Ezran and Zym, the Dragon Prince.”
“And Bait,” Rayla added, gulping down a sob.
“How could I forget Bait?” Callum remarked with a rueful chuckle, leaning his head against Rayla’s as his tears fell freely onto Arielle’s blanket. “We did it for you, Ari. For all the babies born into this new world of peace.”
“All we want is for you to open your eyes and see it,” Rayla wept, placing a kiss on her warm blotchy forehead. “We love you, wee one.”
“So much,” Callum whispered, pressing his own lips to the same spot. “And we always will. No matter—“ His voice broke, his throat clogged with sobs trapped deep within his chest— “what happens.”
“Callum— oh love.” Her rock, her pillar throughout this entire ordeal crumbled beside her after days of hanging on by the barest of threads, and Rayla extracted one of her arms from around Arielle to draw her husband into an embrace. He clung to her as if she were his very lifeline, the pits of utter despair gripping him until he had broken down completely, the last rays of hope for his dearest little girl fading from his mind’s eye.
And then, the faintest coo. Not the struggling wheezes of newborn lungs, nor the wailing cries brought on by fever. Just the sweetest cooing of the most beautiful child either of them had ever seen.
“Is…?” Rayla lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder, hardly daring to believe what she had just heard. “Is that… did she…?”
“Rayla, look,” Callum breathed, both parents gaping when they saw baby Arielle gazing back up at them. Actually gazing, with big round violet orbs. “She— she has your eyes!”
“And one of those little eye crusties,” Rayla noticed, using her thumb to swipe it away. “Hi Ari… can you see Mummy now?” Her tiny mouth opened slightly, and Rayla let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “There’s a good girl!”
“Thank you,” Callum raised his head to the sky, hoping his mother and stepfather heard his gratitude, before kissing his wife’s cheek.
“Here, Da— to prove that you’re not the failure you believe you are.” She placed Arielle into Callum’s arms, and the high mage tensed a bit when her newly opened eyes crinkled in distress, the face that met hers clearly not her mother’s.
“Shh, it’s okay Ari, it’s just me,” Callum soothed as he hugged her against him, her teary orbs seeming to study the warm loving features of her father. “I know this world looks big, and it looks really scary. But your mom and I are gonna be right here with you. That’s a promise.”
Their heads whipped towards the door as it opened, Ezran entering the chamber flanked by his crownguard Soren and Corvus with Opeli right behind them. “Oh no,” Ezran lamented, looking at his brother’s and sister-in-law’s puffy, tear-streaked faces. “Has—?”
“She’s awake,” Callum announced, his face breaking into a watery smile as he held out their daughter for the rest to see. “She finally opened her eyes.”
“That’s wonderful news!” Opeli clasped her hands to her chest, appearing as if she was barely keeping her composure.
“At last, we can properly celebrate the new princess’s birth,” Corvus added, bowing deeply at the waist.
“So, a ball then?” Soren asked, wagging his eyebrows at Corvus. “Party? ‘Cause that’s the impression I’m getting.”
“Once mother and baby are well enough,” Opeli reminded him sternly, but everyone could tell the wheels of party planning were already turning in the high priestess’s head. Ezran went to sit beside the new parents, and Callum handed Arielle back to Rayla so he could give his brother a long, tight hug.
“It’s gonna be a hard road to recovery,” Callum sighed, watching his daughter’s alert yet still pale blotchy face. “But I think she’ll make it.”
“Of course she will,” Ezran said confidently. “She’s got the toughest parents in the kingdoms and Xadia alike. But also, the most caring and devoted parents.”
“I hope we can live up to that, Ez,” Rayla sniffled, giving her child another kiss. “Until then, welcome to the world, Princess Arielle Sarai.”
And as the room filled with the familiar comfortable buzz of conversation and laughter, Callum returned to the armchair to draw one last sketch: Rayla, blooming with health and color, cradling their little Ari. Her violet eyes at last wide open and curious, and her tiny mouth curled upward into a smile.