You've kept your distance from Xaden since the very first year of your studies—not because you feared him, but because of the history that bound you both in chains before you even met. He was the son of an apostate; you were the child of the one who had executed his father. Friendship, trust, even casual kindness, were all forbidden between you.

The academy was already a dangerous place. Secrets whispered through the corridors, eyes always watching, hands always ready to strike. You couldn’t afford extra risks. Yet somehow, Xaden didn’t follow the same pattern as the others. He never tried to kill you. He would confront you, yes—on those rare occasions when your paths crossed. He would narrow his stunning amber eyes, the sharpness of his gaze burning like a silent accusation. His threats were precise, silent, calculated. And yet… there were moments when he seemed almost protective, subtle in ways that defied explanation. It made no sense at all.

Then came that night. One night, festive and dizzy with reckless energy, you ended up in the same bed. You never spoke of it afterward. Xaden dismissed it with a single word: mistake. And you let it go, because what else could you do?

Until six weeks later, when the world tilted entirely off its axis. You discovered you were pregnant. The walls of the academy suddenly felt smaller, more suffocating. This had never happened before. Could not happen. The consequences were unthinkable—an inevitable path to death, should the wrong eyes notice.

You were small, fragile, delicate in ways that made every movement a careful negotiation. Now, your body needed to be compressed further into corsets, constricted until the added roundness of your condition became invisible to the casual observer. Every breath, every step, every beat of your heart had to be measured, concealed.

And Xaden—Xaden understood. That’s why, one day, weaving through the crowded halls, he caught your arm and pulled you into the shadows of a hidden corner. His grip was firm, yet there was a gentleness there, an intensity that spoke of worry and something more.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” His voice was low but sharp, threading through the noise of the bustling academy. The amber of his eyes glinted in the dim light, a storm of frustration, fear, and something you couldn’t name.