A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #2)(111)

But the daydream had been a pleasant fiction, I couldn’t deny it. Lying with him, his hand gently resting on my belly, had brought a strange sort of peace over all of us. Nyfain, me, and our animals. And, for that short time, I’d allowed myself to wonder if I actually was his true mate. Common or no, purring animal or no, I’d wondered if maybe the fates had aligned in my favor and I could finally have my prince. And if we were destined to be together, surely that must mean we could break the curse together somehow. I mean, I’d found a cure for the demon poison—why not take the next step?

But here we were. Eventually everyone woke up from their dreams, however pleasant.

“Finley, love, what’s going on?” Hadriel ventured in with raised eyebrows and a plain gray shirt. He was tired of having his butler outfits laundered after gardening because Cecil, the seamster with the attitude problem, had to do it, and it was nothing but abuse when he went to pick everything up.

“Nothing, I’m fine. I’ll just—”

“Oh.” Hadriel braced his fists on his hips and wandered closer, looking at my underwear.

“Ew, get out!” I tried to pull down my shirt. “I do not need you in here when I’m sitting on the toilet!”

“Honey dove, I have seen it all. I’m already scarred for life. I’m not worried about a little blood here and there. Now…how are we feeling?”

He pulled over a chair that a lady’s maid had likely used to wash the queen and sat in front of me.

“Relieved? Sad?” he asked, peering deeply into my eyes.

Intense sadness welled up, not just from me, but from my animal. I shoved it away. I wouldn’t have felt anything right now if not for the dragon’s raw, primal need to jump me whenever anything reminded him that I was late. Or the soft look in Nyfain’s eyes when he gazed at me with his hand on my belly. Or the kisses he feathered across my navel. I’d allowed myself to delve too deeply into the fantasy, and now it was time to get my head out of the clouds.

“I’m good,” I said, looking around. “But I need…”

“Say no more.” Hadriel stood and raised his hand. “I’ll run and get Leala. She’ll handle the details.” He peered at me intensely for another long beat.

I lifted my eyebrows.

“Right. Just…” His salute turned into a raised finger. “Just getting the lay of the land. So you…aren’t relieved, as such…”

“Hadriel, get out. Seriously. It’s just a period. I have many.”

“Right. It’s just that, you know, you hated the guy when you first came, but now you seem pretty fond of him, and he’s almost palatable now—” He lifted both hands, clearly reading the murder in my expression. “I’ll just go get Leala. Sit tight. There are rags coming, my love.”

An hour later, I hacked at the roses like a woman possessed. Slashes of red covered my arms, and a few gashes lined my face, but I refused to yield. The work was a distraction from thinking about Nyfain. Because I’d have to tell him the news.

Not that it should matter. He’d been living a pleasant fantasy, too. If I’d actually been pregnant, he would’ve lost it. He would’ve been pissed about the timing, about my fragility in the face of what he wanted for me, about having a child when locked in a curse…

Still, fantasy or no, I would have to be the bearer of bad news.

Part of me feared he’d only allowed me so close so he could watch over things. If maybe his desire for a child, an heir, had overshadowed the person actually carrying the child. I wondered if, when he found out I wasn’t pregnant, he’d want things to go back to the way they were, where we fought our attraction and mostly kept to ourselves.

The fear of it hurt the worst, because it wasn’t a baby daddy or a prince I craved. It was Nyfain the man. The brooding asshole whose mood could turn in a moment. Who could silence a room just by walking in and scare the house staff with a look. Who went out of his way to make things easier for me. Who backed my decisions, allowed me to be who I was, and would give his life to save mine. The fighter, the protector, the reader, the lover.

Shit.

I was so fucked. This whole situation had gotten so fucked.

“Finley.”

His rough voice washed over me. Terror of what came next fought with the pleasure of his presence.

The insane thought of not telling him rolled through my head for the umpteenth time since I’d found out.

Pulling the pruning shears out of the bush, I wiped my cheek with the back of my arm. I’d probably just wiped blood on my face, too.

Time to face the music.

The dragon will just want to try again, my animal said.

No. It wasn’t a good idea then, and it isn’t a good idea now. His dragon might be dreamy, but I don’t want to play these games. He probably won’t want me after this, anyway. I’m a common girl. Enough said.

Goddess on a spit, when did you get so unbearably chatty?

I rolled my eyes and turned, finding Nyfain on the patio in his worn jeans and white T-shirt. His hands dangled at his sides. Usually he’d venture into the garden and ask about the day’s labors. We’d then leave out the side where the guys had painstakingly beat a hole in the brick wall. It was correctly thought that they (we) shouldn’t be traipsing through the queen’s chambers every day. Today, though, he remained on the patio.