Page 33 of Eliza's Cursed Dragon

“I do like your bride, and there is something to be said about a woman who can’t talk, eh?” Dad boxed me in the ribs, and I swallowed a sharp retort. I would have loved to hear her say I love you. Just once. But that was Dad. Women had never mattered to him as anything else but to produce an heir or for entertainment.

“We’ll see you at the wedding,” I responded.

“Whatever kind of wedding that will be.” He shook his head. “Not a legal one for sure, without even knowing her name,” he tsked. It bothered him. And it bothered me that it was one thing we actually agreed on.

As much as I hated it though, he was right too. Our marriage would not be official. We were going to hold it in the backyard, with only a few friends and family, and of course the swans. No matter how much money we had, there was no wedding officiant who could make it legal unless we procured a false identity for my bride.

“Make sure you adopt the kid when it’s born,” my father pressed, having one leg already inside the chopper.

“Kid?”

“I’m not stupid, that woman is carrying a child. Your child I presume?”

“Yes.”

“Then see you make that legal,” he said, already turning his back to step into the chopper.

I didn’t want his words to affect me, I really didn’t, but he had a point, albeit different from what he thought. My name would be on our child’s birth certificate, hers however…

I needed to talk to her.

She was in her old room, working on another nettle mantle, wearing tight gloves to protect her skin, so absorbed, she didn’t hear me enter. She didn’t startle though, when I sat down next to her.

“We need to talk.”

She looked up at me and put her sewing aside, giving me her full attention. One of the many things I absolutely loved about her: whatever she did, she did it wholeheartedly.

I took her hands and peeled her gloves off. Despite the protective plastic, there were small red welts on her fingertips and I kissed them. “I wish I knew why you’re doing this to yourself.”

Her hand reached up and brushed my cheek.

“That’s not what I want to talk about though. Listen”—we entwined our fingers—“we need a name for you. There is an agency that specializes in the intake of persons coming from Fable Forest. They help former residents to become legal here, but for that we need a name for you. I know you can’t give me yours, but you will need to pick one for the papers.”

Her eyes welled up and I hated doing this to her. “I understand, I really do, but you need to think about our son or daughter. You need a name, princess.”

She pulled our entwined hands to her stomach. Utter delight spread through me at the thought of my son or daughter being inside of her. Growing, being nourished and loved.

She held two fingers up and I creased my brows trying to figure out what she meant. “Twins? You think we’ll have twins?” It finally dawned on me.

She giggled and shrugged her shoulders, causing a storm of emotions to spread through me.

“We need to get you to a doctor anyway,” I reminded her. We had planned on doing it, but my father’s visit had thrown things off a bit. “I can pay for it, so we won’t need to hurry with a name for you, but for the wedding and birth, you’ll need one.”

Again she shook her head and held up two fingers.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said a bit frustrated. I knew she could read, had seen her in the library, devouring books. So it was only logical to assume that she could also write. So why in hell wouldn’t she pick up a pen and write what she wanted me to know instead of always playing charades?

It was infuriating.

One of her many mysteries.

I reminded myself once again that this was the person I had fallen in love with and I had to take her as she was. I knew she loved me too, I knew she was an honest, sweet person, but the mystery enshrouding her was slowly unraveling my composure.

She pointed at my watch and made a circular motion with her hands.

“Time?” I asked. She nodded and held up two fingers again.

“Two hours?”

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