Manon's Child

Part 15

Manon's POV

Abraxos and I travel quickly across the barren land, the few people who live out here pointing and staring as they see a witch streak past. We fly fast without anyone else, especially not broomsticks, to slow us down. I push my poor wyvern to his extent, only stopping the next dawn for rest.

I slide off Abraxos and set up my small tent and a fire with the few provisions I brought. Abraxos collapses on the hard earth almost immediately, sleeping before he's even lying down. I feel bad for pushing him so hard, but I need to speak to Dorian. Now.

Everything makes sense. All these symptoms, all these dang emotions and all the food I've been eating, the lateness of my bleeding, which I haven't even noticed until now. But something else is also very clear.

My anger at Dorian.

My felling towards this, towards him, have been ever changing for the whole journey here, but now I know for sure what I feel.

I feel unending, irrational anger towards that bastard. How dare he do this to me! Especially after refusing my proposition of an alliance!

However angry I am at Dorian, those feelings do not extend to the witchling growing inside me. No, I already love this child more than anything else in the world, and it hasn't even been born yet. Though it is unexpected and I should have liked to bear it after this mess has been sorted out, witchlings are rare and sacred, and I wouldn't get rid of my child for the world. So, yes, I am angry, so angry, at Dorian, but I love my baby more than anything else.

I spend as little time resting as I possibly can, though make sure Abraxos is fit to travel before we leave. I restock on food and water before flying again at noon. I want to - need to get to Adarlan as quickly as I can.

I am going to scream in Dorian's face exactly how I feel, damning the consequences.