Chapter 16

An agonizing scream rent through the infirmary chamber as Ayana arched her back, twisting and turning on the crumpled sheets. Her hands clenched the sides of the mattress, a terrible moan escaping her lips. Black spots danced before her eyes as icy blades of pain stabbed into her stomach.

She wanted it to end—the pain which made spans seem like hours, and hours seem like days. She felt nothing else but the agony with no end.

Iezabel dabbed at her sweat bathed forehead with a wet cloth, brushing the red wisps of hair from her face. She hated to see Ayana in such pain, helpless to do anything but watch. Those tormented eyes wrenched at her heart. She looked so frail and delicate.

She grasped her hand. “I’m here, my lady.”

The room was hidden in a semi-gloom, for Zelrine had put out most of the candles. There stood two beds other than the one occupied by Ayana, both empty. A metal tinged odor hung in the air—that of blood and sweat.