Page 82 of King of Flames and Shadows

I look at her sharply, but there's no judgment in her face. Only understanding.

"Whoever he is," she says, "whatever you're running from—this child doesn't have to be a chain. It can be something else. Something that's yours. You’ll be alright. No matter what happens. I just know it.”

Before leaving, she presses a small token into my palm—-Maerika’s mark, I realise, eyes welling, its wood worn smooth by generations of mothers and healers before me. I miss my grandmother fiercely, but the thought of her, her faith and love, strengthens me.

Later that morning, already sensing I’m putting these people in danger with my presence, I set out alone, thanking them for everything. They press food, clothes, furs, and boots onto me, ignoring my protests.

"The king's men are everywhere," the farmer tells me as he re-laces the boots on my swollen feet. "They say he's offering a fortune for information about his missing queen. Some say she was kidnapped by rebels. Others say she's a witch who enchanted him."

I keep my eyes on the horizon, though my hands shake all the same. "What do you say?"

He shrugs. "I say any woman who'd run from the Dragon King must have her reasons."

I set out, deciding to stay away from the main path, my borrowed cloak pulled tight against the cold. Despite the new shoes, the frozen ground numbs my feet until I can’t feel them.

The new day brings snow, thick flakes that swirl through the air like ash. It’s winter in Kaldoria now, well and truly. I lose the path I’m following twice, stumbling through deep drifts until my legs give out. Hunger gnaws at me, but every time I try to eat, my stomach heaves.

This time, when I retch into the snow, I can't ignore the truth any longer.

My hands drift to my belly, still flat beneath my stolen clothes. But I know. Gods help me, I know. There's a life growinginside me—a spark of something that's both dragon and human, both his and mine.

Despite everything, Arvoren got what he wanted.

I think of Arvoren's mother, her grave in the catacombs beneath Millrath. Did she feel this same terror when she realized what grew within her? Did she know what fate awaited her?

A branch snaps nearby. I whirl, heart pounding, but it's only a deer, picking its way through the snow. It freezes when it sees me, nostrils flaring. For a moment, we stare at each other—two creatures far from home, both hunted, both afraid.

Then horns sound in the distance, and the deer bounds away into the forest. I force myself to my feet, though my legs shake with exhaustion. I have to keep moving. Have to reach Fort Caddell before he finds me.

Because he will find me. I know this as surely as I know my own name, as surely as I know what grows inside me. Arvoren will never stop hunting us—me and this child I carry, this impossible heir to his throne.

The snow falls harder as I stumble on. Ahead, the foothills of the mountains loom like guardians, their peaks lost in clouds. Somewhere beyond them lies Fort Caddell, and whatever future awaits me there.

I press one hand to my belly, feeling the tiny spark of life that changes everything.

"We'll survive," I whisper, though my voice is lost in the wind. "Whatever comes next, we'll survive."

Because that's what my bloodline does. That's what my grandmother taught me, what her mother taught her. We endure. We survive.

Even if it means running forever.

Even if it means never seeing Arvoren again.

I walk into the gathering snowstorm, leaving no tracks for anyone to follow. Behind me, Millrath burns. Before me, the future stretches vast and unknown. I bow low, protecting my stomach as I brace for the cold. We are all that remains of each other now: a runaway queen, an unborn heir, and the long road ahead.

*****

THE END

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