Nightingale was painfully aware that she was a beautiful woman the moment she stepped foot into town. Heads turned to stare at her, people whispered as she passed by. There were even a few men that approached her, trying to woo her. Her "mysterious" backstory as a minstrel noblewoman with a false name only served to add to her allure. Luckily, she was an unwed mother-to-be. She couldn't believe she was considering this lucky, but given how aggressively men wanted to court her, it truly was lucky she had something that would immediately make them lose interest.
A minstrel noblewoman going by a false name was fascinating and alluring. But if that woman was pregnant and had never been wed, she was fallen and worthless. If Nightingale wasn't so disgusted by the attention of men, she would have been insulted by how quickly they left her. She thought that her pregnancy meant not a single man would be interested in her. When it came to interest in a relationship with her, she was correct. But she failed to account for anything else a man would want from her.
Nightingale was attempting to catch some sleep, though struggling due to the cries coming through the open window of Mikhail's bedroom, which faced the stable. Apparently, Iris was giving birth to the next rightful heir of the kingdom. And going by how much pain was in Iris's voice, it was an incredibly unpleasant experience. Nightingale scowled and placed a hand over her still flat stomach. She was not looking forward to going through that herself. She closed her eyes again and, despite Iris's groans of pain, managed to doze off. But not for long.
The sensation of something alien pressing against her leg woke Nightingale from her light sleep. In the dark, she could only make out a dark figure crouching above her. The figure seemed focused on her dress, carefully lifting her skirt to expose her womanhood. Nightingale's eyes widened, then narrowed. She had been through this song and dance as a horse. She refused to go through it as a human. She grabbed the dagger she kept under her pillow and tackled the figure, holding the dagger to their throat. A quick muttered charm lit her lamp, revealing her attacker to be a man she recognized. It was a member of the latest group of rebels come to check the mares. Disgustingly, his trousers were off already, exposing his manhood. That was what she had felt on her leg. The thought made her want to throw up.
"You-" was all the rebel managed to get out before Nightingale hissed an unconsciousness charm. His eyes closed. Nightingale dragged his limp body to the stall that she had been in as a horse. She woke Citrine and requested her help. Citrine was more than happy to assist her.
A few minutes later, a duplicate of the horse that she had been, a buckskin Witch's Pony mare, stood sleeping in the stall. Nightingale wiped the sweat off her forehead. Transformation was more her sister's field, and being pregnant was a surprising drain on her magic stores, indicative that her child would be a Witch. But she had succeeded in her goal.
The door to the stable opened. Mikhail stepped inside, beaming. The smile on his face went away when he saw how exhausted and on edge Nightingale was.
"Sister? Are you okay?"
"Now I am." Nightingale suddenly realized that Iris had stopped screaming. She managed a small smile. "I assume the next heir to the kingdom has been born?"
"Yes, and both he and mother are healthy and resting." Mikhail frowned. "Now, tell me what has happened here. Why is there a mare that resembles your old form in this stall?" Nightingale sighed and explained everything. After she finished, Mikhail slowly nodded. "I see. That was quite quick thinking."
"I had no other choice but to think quick," Nightingale teased. She yawned. "But we must decide what to do with this new mare. I made her look like me so that she can take my place, but she is not pregnant."