My throat closes. Another demonstration of his goodness and sacrifice. I look at him again.
“Thank you.”
Vann helps me onto Seraph.
As Seraph spreads her wings, the hollow in my chest pulses once—soft, living, whole. Then she launches straight up from the palace gardens. She pumps her wings as we gain height. If I weren’t so weak, I would enjoy this more. But for now, I think I am just glad to be leaving this place.
This place of nightmares. Of bigotry. Of starvation.
I want, more than anything, to return home.
Chapter 41
ARLET
After hours of awkward flight that somehow melts into something softer, gentler, Seraph lands near an abandoned cottage.
I am pregnant,I think.
Yes. It seems you are. This will be a new sort of experience for me, Cursed One says.In life, I hadn’t really wanted children. I hadn’t realized back then that it could get me killed.
I murmur a short response, noticing that my eyelids have begun to droop.
Rest, Nevharis says, clearly cued in to my discomfort. The meeting with Mrath drained me just as much as the trials had.
Vann helps me down from the dragon, and I must admit, there’s something exquisitely familiar about the sensation. His hands wrap around my rib cage, encompassing me with his size and strength. After so long without real touch, without him, I still feel flustered. No sooner than my feet are firmly on the ground, he guides me inside and makes a bedroll from the supplies we’d been given. Then he lays me down while he makes a quick fire.
While he works, I inspect the space. The place is covered in overgrowth, but the walls appear mostly intact. It will provide good shelter.
I have been faring worse along the journey than I would’ve hoped. A weakness has started to take root, something I know I cannot ignore.
I want to be home now.
Vann is quiet for a long time. He doesn’t speak as he heats some of the food from the pack, or when he makes a tea to take away the biting chill of the night air. It isn’t until my plate and cup are empty that he looks at me with all the intensity of a man worried over the future.
“You are not well.”
I close my eyes. “I do not think I will die.”
He makes a frustrated noise. Then the silence comes again, but this time, it unsettles me. I don’t like it at all.
“What of the child?”
My hand goes back to my midsection for the thousandth time.
“It should be fine,” I say shortly.
He doesn’t seem satisfied.
“Speak your mind,” I say.
“This is my fault.”
“Getting pregnant or?—”
“The fact you are so weak.”
“No. This is Arion’s fault,” I retort. “And he’s already dead, so sadly, there is no one left for you to kill.”