Oath of the Alpha - Eva Dresden Page 0,97

forced him to keep his distance as they traveled the long roads back to his homeland. It was an agreement they’d come to after the Scaora tribes had slipped from the trees, their glittering eyes fixed upon Aida with haunting awareness. Once of Oscara itself, they’d renamed themselves and scattered into the blighted forest. Pretending they remembered nothing of the time before Otaso came and destroyed their land, they’d eked out miserable lives in relative secrecy. With the heir to the throne now among them, they became a fractured people. Half wanted Aida dead to fulfill a prophecy they deemed not yet finished, and the other wanted her to take on a crown that was never hers.

Everything became far more complicated when her belly began to swell. The life growing inside her demanded her protection, and Er’it’s aggression knew no bounds. Refusing to allow Er’it to stain his hands with yet more blood, and in her name no less, they’d set out toward Denath under a brilliant, pale blue sky with fluffy clouds and the promise of another snow.

She would never see another snow, not here in the clamoring city of Nalis, the capital of Denath. Sweltering heat that made the shifting black dunes waver upon the horizon were all that she could see beyond the city’s huge walls.

Aida puffed up her cheeks and smoothed the deep blue of her silken gown over her protruding belly. Er’it had lavished her with attention since their arrival while many women of the court sneered and glared. After all, how dare she, a foreigner with her own magic, ensnare their king? He hadn’t seen her in a fortnight, though, not since he went outside the city to show his face among the conquered lands within a day’s ride. And she grew fatter every day, huge in comparison to the tiny breadth of her waist before he’d first laid eyes upon her. He’d surely think her an ox when he saw her next, which wouldn’t be until he returned for their handfasting ceremony.

Letting her breath out in a frustrated sigh, Aida fluffed the folds of her gown and went to the balcony to pace. The intricate woodcuts allowed air and light through, but no one was able to see her staring down at them. It felt too much like her tower for comfort. She’d made friends to be sure, and there were plenty in the court who welcomed her with open arms, but Er’it was not comfortable leaving his pregnant Omega free to roam the halls without him, especially not after their return, upon which they’d discovered Endi had never arrived. Both she and the soldiers escorting her had proven impossible to find by the scrying mages.

Now she languished in her glorious rooms and hated them more each day.

Aida also missed Er’it. Every moment seemed to drag on in an endless loop of dreary wakefulness. No matter how many times she rearranged their bed, the mountainous terrain of soft blankets offered little comfort as his scent faded. She needed him.

With a shaky inhale, she stifled her sob. Scrubbing her palms over wet cheeks, uncaring of the smeared lines of kohl she left in their wake, Aida fought to keep her emotions under control. The larger her child grew, the longer this pregnancy went on, the more tenuous her grasp on her power became. It was far too easy to lash out with it, and no amount of Tor’en’s castigating could force her temper to lessen. The dull ache in her lower back and the infrequent pains across her belly only made controlling it more difficult.

She needed Er’it, Abyss curse him! His bloody Hat’or, as well, would be right to spit in his face for leaving her alone and awkward in this strange place, bereft of his touch and nearness. Aida’s cry was ragged and desolate as she threw herself into the nest, curling up into a tight ball to tug the still scented satin to her nose in a rumpled fistful.

The doors splintered as they burst open, the flimsy metal of the lock clattering across the cool tiles to come to a rest with a dull thump against a gilded wardrobe.

Er’it’s teeth were bared in a snarl, his amber gaze alight as he scanned the suite for some intruder, for the malignant presence that dared make his mate weep so. Stalking around the low bed, he gave experimental sniffs when he found no danger present.

“Who did this?” he asked on a subterranean rumble, gripping