Chapter 387: Tonight
For Aria, she heard the words—but she might as well not have.
The heavy exhaustion that had been weighing her down moments ago began to fade, replaced by something sharp and sudden. Her eyes widened as she stared at Zyren as though he had just spoken madness.
She let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle, shaking her head slowly, almost as if the movement itself could undo the words she had just heard him say.
He didn’t mean that.
He couldn’t have meant that.
But she had barely opened her mouth to respond when Zyren spoke again, cutting her off before she could form a single word. He shook his head slightly as he did so.
His eyes were cold.
And there was something fierce in them—something unwavering that made it clear he meant every word.
"You can no longer get out of bed," he said. "And Savira’s solution is to wait and see. She has nothing left to give you to make you better."
For a moment, Aria could only stare at him.
She was too stunned to speak.
Her widened eyes remained fixed on his face, shock rippling through her as she struggled to process what he was saying. When she finally managed to speak, her voice came out hoarser than she intended, quieter too, the strain impossible to hide.
"I...I just need time," she said, her fingers tightening as her hands gripped each other weakly. "I need time for my body to recover."
Worry began to creep into her chest as she searched his eyes.
And found nothing but calm determination.
It terrified her.
"I... I..." Her voice faltered. Tears gathered along her lashes as she lifted her hands, trying to reach for him. The effort alone made her arms tremble. It was harder than it should have been.
He was sitting farther away than usual.
"This is our child!" she continued, a flicker of fierce anger breaking through the exhaustion in her voice.
Her hands slid down, wrapping protectively around her stomach.
"Our son!"
She wanted him to understand the weight of what he was suggesting.
But the moment she looked into his eyes, it became painfully clear—
He already understood.
And he had still said it.
"Do you know how long you’ve been asleep?" Zyren asked gently.
His calm only made the rising panic inside her worse.
"...my body is trying to recover!" she snapped, her voice rising, almost turning into a strained cry.
Zyren didn’t argue.
He simply nodded once.
Then he spoke again.
"Your injuries are no longer healing," he said quietly. "I can hear your heart."
His gaze did not waver.
"It’s weakening."
Anger flared through her immediately.
"The baby is completely fine!" Aria shot back. She could hear it herself—the steady rhythm inside her, stronger than her own failing pulse.
Zyren didn’t deny it.
He nodded again.
The baby’s heart was strong.
"...you won’t survive," he said.
The words were calm.
Factual.
And Aria shook her head slightly, as if refusing to let them settle into her mind. Her fingers dug into her palms as she spoke, desperation creeping into her voice.
"My powers will come back once the baby is born," she said quickly. "I know they will. Just a few more weeks. Savira can give me something for an early delivery."
Her eyes searched his face.
Pleading.
But Zyren didn’t move.
His red gaze remained steady on her.
"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking as fear finally surfaced fully. "Please. This is our child. How can you even think of something like that?"
A frown slowly formed on her face.
Because instead of answering—
Zyren chuckled.
It was quiet.
But the sound made her stomach drop.
He was looking at her pale face, at the way her eyes struggled just to stay open, at the tears gathering in them as even speaking seemed to drain what little strength she had left.
"Zyren..." Aria whispered, unease settling heavily in her chest.
She didn’t like the look in his eyes.
He stood.
Then he stepped closer to the bed and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"I won’t," he said softly. "You’ll get better."
But Aria wasn’t about to let him walk away so easily.
She lifted her hand and grabbed his shirt.
Her grip was weak—so weak that he could have pulled away without effort—but she held on anyway.
"Promise," she whispered urgently.
Her eyes searched his.
"Promise me."
More than anyone, she knew what Zyren was capable of.
She knew the kind of decisions he could make.
Zyren’s expression softened into a small smile.
"I promise," he replied immediately, his voice gentle.
Relief washed over her.
Her fingers loosened.
Her hands fell back onto the bed as her eyes fluttered shut almost instantly, exhaustion reclaiming her the moment the tension left her body.
She couldn’t keep them open any longer.
Her breathing evened out.
Her arms rested limply at her sides.
Zyren watched her for a moment.
Then he adjusted the blankets, tucking them carefully around her. His expression was soft as he brushed his fingers lightly through her hair.
She was suffering.
She never spoke about the pain directly, but it was written across her face—the strain, the weakness, the quiet endurance.
His gaze shifted.
Just briefly.
It moved to her stomach.
Then he straightened.
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.
The maid waiting outside stepped forward immediately, and Rymora, who had arrived to keep Aria company, looked up at him.
Zyren didn’t acknowledge either of them.
He walked past.
The guards dropped to their knees the moment they saw him, but his eyes didn’t so much as flicker in their direction as he continued down the corridor.
His steps didn’t slow.
They carried him straight to Savira’s laboratory.
What surprised her most was the knock.
A sharp, controlled sound before the door opened.
Savira looked up—and for a moment, she stared at him as if she had seen a ghost. It took her a second to process why the king himself would knock.
Then he spoke.
And she understood.
"Prepare whatever you need," Zyren said.
His voice was calm.
"We’re cutting out the baby tonight."
The words left her stunned enough that her response came before she could stop it.
"It would die."
The moment she said it, she realized how pointless the statement was.
Of course he knew that.
"I know," Zyren replied.
There was no hesitation.
No confusion.
No visible concern.
Then he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him.
