Thoren
My son had called me Daddy.
I had not heard him.
The knowledge sat beneath my ribs like equal parts wonder and ache. Nevara rested against the pillows with one hand over the curve of her stomach, her eyes closed but not asleep. Every few minutes, her expression changed slightly, and I found myself watching for some sign that he had spoken again.
“What did he say?” I asked.
Her eyes opened. “Nothing.”
“You smiled.”
“I was thinking about the way you looked when I told you he called you Daddy.”
I leaned back in the chair beside the bed. “I looked composed.”
“You looked like someone had knocked the crown off your head.”
“That is still composed by comparison to Drake.”
She laughed softly, then winced and pressed a hand to her temple.
I was beside her before the sound fully le
