Aydra sighed, still looking down. “I didn’t, no.” Her head shook as she contemplated her words. “Killing him would have secured the Bedrani Council taking over, as they already have in his absence. They don’t trust Dorian. I fear he will have a harder time getting his crown than I previously thought.”
“I don’t understand how they can do that. It’s his crown.”
“But they are the Bedrani Council. They represent the Dreamers of our land. You forget, there are only four Promised children. The only reason we have crowns is because Dreamers gave them to us. They can also take them away.”
Draven sighed and sank his head against her temple. “You people and your politics,” he muttered. “We should kill them all and take over,” he added under his breath.
Aydra almost laughed despite the pain that had just sharpened through her abdomen. “Burn the kingdom to the ground,” she muttered.
“Purple, orange, and black flames lighting up the sky,” he said dreamily.
She hugged his arms tighter around her and rocked into his chest. His lips pressed to her temple again, the tickle of his beard making her chuckle softly.
Home surrounded her core, and she sighed into his embrace.
The window burst open.
Both of them shot to their feet. Draven grabbed his sword off the dresser, Aydra taking a candleholder off the desk.
A whirl of wind concentrated in the window, black smoke building from within it. It moved inside the room, and then it dissipated as quickly as it had arrived.
The Nitesh was standing in her room.
The candlestick dropped from Aydra’s hands, and her eyes widened at Draven beside her. “You called the Nitesh?” she hissed.
“You’re sick. Of course I called the Nitesh,” he argued.
“But—”
“Stop your babbling, Aydra Ravenspeak,” the Nitesh cut in.
Aydra’s insides froze at her hiss. She swallowed hard and straightened up. “It’s really not that bad. He shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Nevertheless, he did,” the Nitesh said as she pulled her hood and cloak off and threw it into the chair beside her. “Sit. Now.”
Aydra laid down in the bed as another pain shot through her stomach. She pushed it from mind, not wanting Draven to see the pain in her features. The Nitesh’s hands were cold as she pressed her palms to her forehead. A golden glow radiated from her hands and over Aydra’s body. Draven stood at the end of the bed, one arm crossed over his chest, chewing on his thumb on the other hand as he watched.
“Don’t glare at me like that,” Draven muttered to her after a few minutes.
“You called the Nitesh because I have been puking,” Aydra grumbled. “I am not dying.”
“No,” the Nitesh agreed as her hands hovered over Aydra’s abdomen. “You are not.” Her nostrils flared at whatever it was she felt there, and her eyes suddenly grew wild gold in color.
Aydra swallowed hard at the sudden bewildered look on the Nitesh’s face. “Nitesh?”
The Nitesh rose slowly from Aydra’s bedside, her widened eyes never leaving Aydra’s stomach. And then she turned towards Draven.
“Take me to Promregis,” she hissed. “Now.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
DRAVEN DIDN’T ARGUE.
It was only a few hours before the sunrise. The only people in the halls were Belwarks and Dreamer servants waking for morning chores. Lex was sitting outside Aydra’s door in the hall when Draven emerged.
“Draven—” her words ceased, gaze widening at the sight of the Nitesh behind her. “What—”
“No time. I have to get her to the Throne Room. I could use the escort,” he cut in.
