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It was too much.
The pain in his heart was worse than the pain that throbbed inside of him, and it ached so unbearably he longed to have claws so he could rip his chest open, tear out the damned thing, and throw it away.
“I’m sorry, Parrot,” Everard said, and just like that, all of the hurt inside of Peregrine ignited into unholy rage. He sprang up from the bed, grabbed Everard by the front of his tunic, and drew their faces together.
“Peregrine,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “My name is Peregrine and you shall never, ever call me anything but that ever again.”
Everard’s eyes flew open. No dragon would struggle to subdue an omega, especially one in such poor condition, but the terror on his face was quite real. It was the most powerful Peregrine had ever felt in his life, but also the most helpless, because no matter how many dragons he scared into speechlessness, nothing would bring back what he had lost.
The pain in his heart and the pain down below resurfaced, this time worse than ever, but the darkness refused to take him. It was a wretched thing, to have to suffer like this. To be broken in so many ways. Peregrine’s grip weakened, and as uncomely as it was, he buried his face against Everard’s chest and started to cry.
“Everard,” boomed Sebastian from the doorway, and in moments Peregrine was no longer in bed, nor clutching his lord’s brother. He was wrapped up safe in Sebastian’s arms, and although the wrong inside of him hurt worse than ever, being so close to his lover put back the pieces of his broken heart. “What,” Sebastian seethed at Everard, “do you think you’re doing?”
“He attacked me!”
“He is ill and in need of healing.”
“Which he would get if he were to be still.” Everard adjusted his tunic, now stained with blood on its right breast. “Lay him down. It’s no easy feat to stitch together a wound you can’t see, and harder yet to do a second time around. I must concentrate.”
“Be still, Perry,” Sebastian whispered, and laid Peregrine on the bed. “Everard’s magic is powerful, but in order for it to work, he needs your cooperation. Let him help you. All will be well.”
Only Peregrine couldn’t be sure of that, because as wonderful as it was to have Sebastian with him, his presence served as a reminder that other terrible things were yet to come. Soon enough he would have to tell Sebastian the truth—that there were no eggs, and that there would be no child—and Sebastian would look upon him with pity and send him away.
No dragon had use for an omega who couldn’t bring a babe to term.
No matter how Sebastian claimed to love him, he would change his mind when he found out how badly Peregrine had failed. A clutch was the only goal of a coupling like theirs, and without a body willing to carry one, their love would fizzle, and it would die.
So while Everard undid the wounds that caused him pain, Peregrine wept.
He wept for the babe he’d never meet and for the lover he’d lose.
Because no matter how much magic Everard used, it would never be enough. Magic could end pain, but it was useless against suffering, and suffer Peregrine would until he returned to dust.
23
Sebastian
1509
“You’ll have to send him back,” Everard said. “If you wish, I can take him. If that would be easier for you to bear.”
Sebastian slumped in the throne he’d procured and placed in the palace’s great hall. It had belonged to some prince or another, but that didn’t particularly matter. It was uncomfortable as hellfire, but it was very shiny, so he supposed that was something. It was also quite large, which was the other reason he’d purchased it. The plump cushions made it nearly tolerable and the gold and inlaid jewels were soothing.
Nothing, however, could quell the storm raging inside of him. It had been a day since the loss of the babe, and Sebastian’s despair had whipped itself into a frenzy. Unlike Peregrine, who was able to weep and mourn, such things were not Sebastian’s nature. Rather, he was a lion whose very heart had been pricked by a thorn. The pain made him want to rip the entire world apart.
Despite his brother’s silence, Everard pushed on. “I’ve already discussed it with him. I think he’d prefer it, to be honest.”
In a flash, Sebastian was on his brother, pinning him to the ground and holding a wickedly sharp talon to Everard’s neck. “Never,” he snarled. “I would kill you myself with teeth and claws, bedamned what Father will think. Peregrine is mine, and I will slay any man or beast who attempts to steal him from me.”
Everard blinked, for once no caustic jest leaping out of his cursed mouth.
Sebastian shook him, making Everard’s head bounce on the floor. It was, much to Everard’s good fortune, covered in a thick wool carpet. “Do you understand me, little brother?”
Still looking wary, but making no move to shove Sebastian off or defend himself, Everard shook his head back and forth. “No, I damned well do not understand. Also. That hurt. I need my brain. Unlike you, I make use of it often.”
“You will not take my omega.”
“God, no. I wouldn’t dream of it. I didn’t wish to purloin him, brother. I was hoping to spare you the pain and trouble of sending him back to his cloister.”
