Deep Inside
“Careful, Nhazra.”
“She’s fragile,” Nhazra spat, circling, “weak. She pollutes the bloodline.”
“She carries my heir,” he said coldly. “You’ll watch your tongue.”
Nhazra’s gaze slid to Maeve’s stomach, glowing, round with the first swell of impossible life.
“She won’t survive it,” she purred. “Mortals never do.”
Maeve stood behind him, spine stiff. “I’m not mortal anymore.”
Nhazra bared needle-like teeth. “Then prove it, land-womb.”