Chapter 15 What Survived the Night
Lyanna
I woke with a sharp, shuddering breath, my body jerking as though I’d been dragged up from deep water.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was—only that something was wrong. Wrong in the hollow space beneath my ribs.
Cold seeped into my back. Stone. Bare stone, damp with night chill. Something wet clung to the back of my tunic. The smell came next: old dust and mold, iron long scrubbed away but never truly gone. My lashes fluttered open.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Too low. Rough-hewn, uneven, vanishing into shadow. No lantern burned. No light filtered in.
My breath came shallow.
I tried to move and found my limbs slow, leaden, reluctant to obey. When I shifted, pain flared low in my abdomen—dull now, heavy, but unmistakable.
Memory lurched back in fragments.
Hands pulling me aside.
Bina’s grip, urgent.
Hide. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.
Then the pain—sudden and deep. Twisting. Tearing. It had stolen the ground from beneath my feet, folded me inward so violently I’d bitten down on my sleeve to keep from crying out. I remembered thinking, distantly, about the baby.
And then—
Nothing.
Just a blank.
I swallowed hard.
I didn’t remember falling.
My heart began to pound.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows. The floor stretched around me, cracked and bare. A forgotten chamber, maybe beneath the pens—or beneath something older. A place no one came unless they meant to leave someone behind.
Somewhere far overhead, boots passed. Voices followed—muffled, distorted by layers of stone.
Guards.
My pulse skidded violently.
How long had I been here?
Minutes? Hours?
I pressed my palm to the floor to steady myself, but the stone offered no comfort. The cold only leached higher, crawling into my bones.
I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious.
I didn’t know—
My breath caught, sharp and violent.
I didn’t know if my baby was alive.
The thought struck with physical force. Panic ripped through me, raw and animal, blinding in its intensity. My body reacted before my mind could catch up—lungs burning, vision narrowing, fingers clawing uselessly at stone.
Something could have gone wrong while I couldn’t stop it.
“No,” I whispered.
My hands shook as I lowered one to my abdomen.
Slowly—carefully—I drew my palm down my torso, over the rough fabric of my dress, and pressed. Lightly at first. Then harder. My breath locked in my chest.
Nothing screamed back at me. No fresh surge of pain. No wet warmth beneath my fingers.
My other hand clenched into the stone.
I slid my palm lower, searching now. Desperate. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure it would carry through the floor above.
Please.
I tilted my head, listening inward, as if I could hear something inside myself. A flutter. A sign. Anything.
My thoughts fractured.
I passed out.
I was alone.
I wouldn’t have felt it if—
I pressed harder, as if pressure alone could anchor reality. My fingers came away dry.
Still, the fear didn’t recede. It coiled tighter, fed by the silence. By the gap in my memory.
My chest tightened. A sound clawed up my throat—too loud, too dangerous—and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek until copper filled my mouth.
I refused to be hysterical.
But tears burned anyway—hot and sudden—blurring my vision as panic finally broke through restraint.
Then—
Footsteps.
Close.
My head snapped up. Terror spiked sharp and immediate. I scrambled backward, palms slipping on stone, heart slamming as the door at the far end of the room creaked open.
A silhouette filled the doorway.
For a heartbeat, pure fear took me—guards, finally finding me, dragging me out—
Then the figure stepped forward.
Bina.
Relief crashed through me so violently it left me shaking. Tears spilled hot and fast as the tension finally shattered.
She was at my side in an instant, dropping to her knees. “It’s alright,” she murmured urgently. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”
I clutched at her, trembling.
Behind her stood another omega—older, silver threaded through dark hair, eyes sharp and steady.
A healer.
Bina glanced back, then signed quickly.
Is your stomach still hurting?
I nodded, throat burning.
I wanted to speak. Wanted to ask—Is my baby okay? Wanted to beg. But the words stuck, trapped behind fear and instinct.
Bina understood anyway.
“This is Mara,” she said softly. “She’s a healer. She won’t tell anyone.”
Mara inclined her head. “May I?”
I nodded.
Her hands were cool and practiced as she pressed, tested, listened. Each second stretched taut with dread. I watched her face, searching for any flicker, any sign.
The examination felt endless.
Finally, she withdrew her hands. Her mouth pressed into a thin line—not grim, I realized with a start, but thoughtful.
“She’s under severe strain,” she said quietly. “Malnourished. Dehydrated. Exhausted. Her body is screaming for rest.”
My heart hammered.
“And the baby?” Bina asked tightly.
The healer met my eyes.
“The baby is fine.”
The sob tore out of me before I could stop it.
It was ugly. Raw. Everything I’d been holding back—fear, guilt, relief—colliding at once. I folded forward, clutching my stomach, clutching Bina, anywhere I could anchor myself.
My baby was still with me.
Bina wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head. She murmured soothing nonsense as I cried into her shoulder, silent and broken and overwhelmed.
The healer stood. “She needs food. Water. Sleep. And no stress—if such a thing is possible here.”
Then she was gone.
For a long moment, it was just us. The dark room. My breathing, slowly evening.
“You were alone down here all night,” Bina said gently. “It’s day now.”
All night? I mouthed.
She nodded. “They were still searching. This was safest.”
Will you get in trouble? I signed.
She snorted. “For what? Being where I’m always supposed to be?”
A small, broken laugh escaped before I could stop it, hitching on the tail end of a sob.
Bina smiled back, then sobered. She pulled a small bundle from her sleeve—bread, hard and stale, and a cup of water. “Eat. Slowly.”
I obeyed, chewing slowly, savoring each bite. As I ate, my thoughts churned despite her exhaustion.
What now?
Run?
Hide forever in holes like this?
Get caught?
Bina tapped my forehead lightly. “Stop that,” she said. “You think too loud.”
I huffed weakly.
“Sleep,” Bina ordered. “I’ll wake you.”
Exhaustion claimed me almost immediately, dragging me under before fear could resurface.
When I woke again, she was already pulling me up.
We’re moving.
We slipped through narrow corridors, timing our steps between patrols. Light bled in from above as we climbed.
We nearly collided with a guard.
Then a familiar voice drawled, amused, “You really are incapable of staying out of trouble, aren’t you?”
Marek.
“Relax,” he said. “You’ve been reassigned.”
Bina exhaled sharply.
“Managed by me,” Marek continued. “Close to Lord Veras’s estate. Far from the Triune.”
Safer.
As we moved inside, my hand drifted to my abdomen.
Still alive.
So was my baby.
But now I knew.
I couldn’t stay.
Not here.
Not long.
I had to get out.