CHAPTER NINETEEN
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Faelyn remains glued to the spacious bed inside the tent. The violence outside has died down, and everywhere is now quiet.
Most of the nobles were killed. Only some were spared to become slaves. Prince Mordered may even be dead too, Faelyn thinks.
All the royal bloodlines were used as sacrifice, the dragons burning them as offerings. Their torture methods were grotesque and stomach-churning. Even though Faelyn shares no love with her brothers, seeing Prince Orden die so cruelly had shaken something within her - a crawling web of terror so deeply woven in her chest.
This pregnancy has saved her from being skinned alive or burnt like the rest of them. Faelyn certainly didn't expect the heartless dragon to care about a child who may turn out to be a weak half-blood like herself.
Faelyn jerks up, startled when the tent flaps open, and several people enter, crowding the room. Their clothing instantly tells her they are servants from the dragon tribe.
