She almost laughed. “Why?”
“Because a daughter would have killed me slowly, and deliberately, with the anxiety of what she would do next.”
She laid her head against his chest again, and she sighed heavily as he began to caress her stomach once more. “You would have loved her nonetheless.”
“I already do,” came the crack of his voice.
The declaration of his words broke her. The sudden reality of what they were being forced to give up poured from her mind and shattered her insides. Images of a reality she would not have flashed before her eyes. Draven introducing their child to the dragons, the laughter of it ringing in her ears. She could see the smile on his face as he held it and kissed its cheek. And then he would look at her with a happiness she wanted to feel so desperately in her swollen core.
She nearly hurled at the overwhelming angst of such a fantasy flooding her mind and drowning her beneath it. But he held her tightly against him and stroked her hair, his own strangled tears coming down his cheeks as he attempted to hold himself together for her.
“I wonder what the Chronicles will say about us,” Aydra whispered after a while. “Whether they’ll speak of us as villains, as though we fell in love to spite our kind. If they’ll say our child was as it should have been —a greatness— or if they’ll say it was an abomination.”
Draven’s hand squeezed hers. “Maybe we should write it for them.”
Her eyes narrowed up at him, and she was met with a serious gaze on his face, jaw taut with determination. “How could we do that?”
The noise of footsteps on the stairs leading to the tower disturbed their moment. Aydra’s heart jumped in her chest, and she clenched onto his shirt. She heard keys jangling, and thought perhaps it was guards coming up. Draven’s arms squeezed around her.
But then—
“Dorian.”
Dorian appeared in the doorway, followed quickly by Nyssa. Aydra moved from Draven’s arms and crawled to the iron doors.
“You know you cannot be seen here,” she insisted.
Dorian held up a set of keys as he crossed the space. “Thought we would spring you free.” He put the key in the lock, but the sudden grasp of Aydra’s hands on his made him stop.
“No,” Aydra said softly.
“Do not worry for us any longer, youngers,” Draven said from the corner. “Our lives end here. But you two must remain.”
Nyssa’s eyes were tearing up. “Please. Let us free you—”
Aydra shook her head and reached out to her sister. “You must be strong,” she whispered to her. “The boats will not stop. I do not know how long it will be before Lovi’s beaches are swarmed with men not of our own.”
Nyssa’s hand rested on her cheek. “I will avenge you, my sister. The Council will pay for what they have ordered.”
“No,” Aydra said shortly. “No. You must focus your energy on the ships.”
“You remember what we talked about?” Draven asked Dorian then.
Dorian’s gaze averted from Aydra to Draven’s rising figure in the corner. Dorian pulled something from his bag—Draven’s horn.
Aydra’s eyes widened. “What are you doing with that?”
“Bring it to me tomorrow night. After… “ Draven’s eyes flickered to Aydra, and she squeezed his hand. “After I am brought back here,” Draven managed. “You know the plan, Dorian. You know what is coming. What you must do.”
Dorian’s hand tightened around the horn.
“Bide your time. Be patient. Balandria hasn’t left yet. Find her and have her come to me at once. Then find Nadir. It is only a matter of time before an armada arrives on his shores. These last boats have been scouting boats. When they don’t arrive back at their home across the seas, they will start sending more ships.”
“My brother will not allow to send aid,” Aydra interjected.
“They will not be telling him anything,” Draven said, meeting her eyes.
Aydra paused, and she felt her brows narrow. Draven reached a hand out and cupped her cheek in his palm.
