He looked as though he would laugh. “Only you would define being this sick as an annoyance,” he mocked.
She huffed amusedly under her breath, and he kissed her forehead.
“What can I do?” he asked.
She shrugged, hugging her arms over her chest. “The surgeons say it is something I ate. But I’ve been like this a week. Getting worse every day. I’m not sure there’s anything you can do besides wait for it to pass.”
His weight shifted and he looked out the window. “Where is your phoenix?”
“Ah… not sure. I see her shadow once a day at least. Where she stays the rest of the time, I’m not sure.”
“Call her,” he said. “I have an idea.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
DRAVEN SENT A letter off with the phoenix without telling her who it was for. She didn’t question him. She was happy he was there, happy to have someone around her that would not treat her as though she were fragile.
For the remainder of the day, and well into the night, he held her on the floor. Nyssa brought food to her room before night fell, but Aydra could hardly keep it down. The smell of it repulsed her, and Nyssa promised to bring up actual food instead of the medicined mush the surgeons had prescribed for the morning. When she left, Draven packed the pipe, insisting it would help with the nausea, and they sat together on the floor once more.
He told her what was going on in his forest, about their inner gossips, the squabble two men had tried to settle over a woman that ended up choosing another woman instead of one of the men. He told her Nadir was waiting on her before going to the ships again, that they were scouting out things and watching their every move. They would know what they were walking into when they finally did decide to speak with them. Two more ships had arrived west of the reef, but they looked to be supply ships this time, only carrying foods and materials, not weapons.
“What about you? You didn’t tell me what happened when you got here,” he said after a while.
She stared down at their entwined hands. “I fought my brother. Took one of his eyes. Then found myself on lockdown by my own guard.”
His arms tightened around her. “But you didn’t kill him.”
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
