I shook my head and rolled my eyes. I didn’t have a better suggestion. “Fine,” I conceded.
“Something is…off with you.” His voice was close enough now that his words vibrated across the beads of my gown.
I turned to face him. “What a strange way to give a compliment. I think you look very nice as well.”
“No—that’s not?—”
I lifted a hand. Of course he hadn’t meant it that way. I was just frustrated that our first conversation since he admitted having feelings for me was about safe words and how Rhazien couldn’t follow through on a simple promise, again. A situation made more awkward when the handsome commander continued to step in as his second.
“Why don’t you just tell me exactly what you mean,” I said steadily, gathering composure from every corner of my being.
“You smell—” he paused, inhaling like a hound “—different.”
Alba spoke up from the corner of the room. “It may be Gorvin’s tonic she’s been drinking. Lady Reyva has felt unwell since yesterday.”
“I heard you were feeling unwell during our travels.” The immortal commander looked from my chambermaid to me and clenched his jaw ashe inhaled again. “My lady, I need you to tell me right now if there’s a possibility you’re pregnant.”
Alba stifled a gasp beneath her gray robes.
“I’m sorry to be so forward, but it's imperative you’re honest with me.”
It was a considerable effort to hide my shaking fists. “That would be impossible.”
The words were laced with disdain. I’d accepted my reality years prior, but something about saying it out loud to Dommik weighed me like stones around my ankles.
He raised a brow, took a small step closer to me, and whispered, “Reyva. Are you absolutely sure?”
The question made me wish I had something heavy to throw at him. His honed ability to constantly overstep infuriated me.
“Hear me,” my voice cracked along with what remained of my façade, “it’s not possible for me to get pregnant.”
My discomfort from cramping, my exhaustion from travel, my disappointment in Rhazien, and now my fury at Dommik’s question swirled, their components transforming into a flammable mixture of emotions.
I hated crying, but tears fell all the same.
Alba approached with a tissue in hand but Dommik raised a hand, stilling her. He plucked the fabric from my chambermaid and whispered, “Leave us.”
“My lord—” she stammered.
“Leave. Us,” he bit out over his broad shoulder.
I wiped a tear and nodded to Alba. Angry as I was at him, I knew Dommik. He would never harm me. And there were some things I needed to say to him, and him alone.
“It’s fine,” I assured her through a sniffle.
The door shut softly behind Alba. Dommik handed me the tissue and I gently tapped at my eyes to carefully soak up the tears without ruining my make up.
“I’m sorry.” Dommik stepped closer.
“It's fine,” I repeated. I don’t know why I bothered attempting to lie to him. He knew me. From my deepest shame to my darkest truths.
“It’s not,” he whispered again as if not only apologizing for his words, but as if he could see the pain admitting my biological shortcomings gave me.
I wanted to be held. For him to reach out and touch me. Wrap his armsaround me. Distract me from this feeling I thought I’d buried years ago. That I’m safe. That I’m wanted. To tell me I’m not broken. That I’m worth choosing even if I couldn’t give something in return.
It’s all I’d ever known. Me and every other woman in Atoris were told to grow up, find a good marriage match that elevates your family, never deter from obedience, and give as many children as possible.
My one child was deemed a bastard and kept secret, and because of what her birth did to my body, the midwife said I would never bear another child ever again. I was damaged goods when my father arranged my marriage to Hollis Ashford. Perhaps he didn’t believe the midwife. Perhaps he didn't want the financial burden of two unwed daughters under his roof.
