Morning came sooner than Zyren expected.
But instead of turning his attention to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the window, his gaze remained fixed on Aria, who still lay fast asleep.
Her condition had not improved.
If anything, it was worse.
He had monitored her heartbeat throughout the entire night, never once closing his eyes, never once relaxing his focus. The rhythm had grown weaker with each passing hour, the sound thin and fragile in his ears.
Savira had remained in the room as well.
She had spent the night seated in a chair she had ordered the guards to bring, after instructing them to bury the fetus properly and place a headstone over the grave that would later be named.
A deep frown rested on her face.
Because she could tell.
Aria's ability had not returned.
It should have.
That was what Savira had believed without a single doubt—that once the child was removed, Aria's power would immediately begin repairing the damage to her body.
But it hadn't.
