She laid her head in the crook of his neck, and she felt the next tear hit her hair as he kissed her forehead.
“I watched them write the scroll,” she whispered. “He made me watch as he signed the order. The new law.”
“What law?” Draven asked.
“That love between the Venari and Promised daughter is now forbidden,” she answered solemnly. “Punishment for the discovery of such a bond would be punishable by death on both parties, for if allowed to flower, an abominated creature would grow in her womb, and the safety of Haerland would be in danger. By order of the King and Bedrani Council.”
His hand tightened around her. “Abominated creature,” he muttered distractedly under his breath. “Our child is not—”
“You’ll be tortured in the morning,” she cut him off. “And then the people…” Her words stuck in her throat, and he squeezed her arms. “The people will be allowed stone’s throws. At sunset… what’s left of me will burn. They plan to hang you with the rising sun the next morning.” She looked up at him through her strangles of hair.
“Do you still want to run?” he asked.
She swallowed hard, a tear running down her cheek. “We can’t,” she managed. “To run now would bring war and terror to all of our lands. We would have to go to the caves, and my brother and the Council would send an army, burning and killing everything in his path to kill us. They would take the mountains, the forest, the reef… All our friends would perish beneath Rhaif’s thumb before the true war is upon us. I do not wish to live in fear my entire life, nor do I wish to bring such a war to Haerland when Man is already knocking on our beaches.” She paused and looked up at him. “Youcould run. After you are brought back here to the tower at nightfall. You could escape.”
He brought her hand to his lips and shook his head. “There is something I must do tomorrow night. After it is complete, I will meet you at the Edge on my own accord, in my way. I will not allow them the chance to see the light leave my eyes.”
Her heart shattered at the thought. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” he insisted. “I wish to die with the noise of the Noctuans in my ears, the warmth of the darkness around me. Not in the sun with the people who have betrayed Haerland staring at me. They do not deserve the satisfaction.”
Aydra swallowed hard, unable to move her eyes from his. “I love you so much,” she managed.
A long sigh exhaled from his lungs, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you.”
Her stomach lurched just moments later, and Aydra grimaced at the feeling of her insides evacuating onto the floor outside the bars. Draven rubbed her back and held her once more when she made her way back to the ground. Every now and then, he would rub her stomach, causing a chill to run down her spine, a swell of raw emotion to fill her core. And when he leaned down to kiss her belly, she couldn’t stop the silent tears rushing over her reddened cheeks.
“You know, we would have gotten to name it,” he whispered.
Aydra swallowed hard, biting back the sobs threatening her core. She’d hardly allowed herself to think about the child as he had, as what it would have actually been rather than a punishment from her own giver to end her life. But as her life seemed to be ending anyway, she laid her head against his chest, and she allowed herself to live inside the fantasy Draven spoke of.
“What would you have suggested?” she managed.
He kissed the inside of her palm, and then rested them together back on her stomach. “There is a name for the Venari in the old language… one that means ‘Hunter of the Sun’… Theron.”
“Theron… sounds too formal,” she told him.
He huffed amusedly under his breath. “What do you suggest?”
“The name would have to be grand, but not audacious or conceited. A child born of us would know no fear, it would live in shadows and become one with our darkness. Shrouded in the blanket of it. It would ride the dragons. Swim with the serpents. A child formidable and gentle all in one. A child that would have saved us from the division our races have so held on to during these last Ages.”
“Fallon,” Draven suggested abruptly.
Aydra paused. “Fallon…” she repeated, allowing the name to live on her tongue. She gave his hand a squeeze. “I like it,” she said, gazing up at him. “What does it mean in the old language?”
“Leader in darkness,” he informed her.
Her gaze narrowed, and she felt a frown slip on her lips. “Is that actually true?”
His facade broke, and he chuckled under his breath. “I’ve no idea.”
She allowed the laughter to radiate through her core, and she sighed into his shoulder as his lips pressed hard to the top of her head. His lips lingered there a moment, and she felt the wetness of his tear streak her cheek.
“He could have ridden in the sun with the phoenix,” he whispered. “Crawled in the grasses with the Rhamocour.”
“And if it was a girl?” she asked him.
He pulled back, and his eyes widened down at her. “That is a petrifying thought.”
