"Oh, Vael, do you know what must have frightened her the most?" Susan reached out, her hand covering his where it rested on the table.
Vael looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "The tradition. The council. What they'll do if they find out before the wedding. And—"
Susan shook her head slowly, cutting him off. "No. Not the pregnancy. Not the council. Not the tradition." She paused, letting the silence stretch between them, her gaze never wavering from his. "You."
Vael's face fell, the color draining from his cheeks. He opened his mouth to protest, to defend himself, but the words wouldn't come.
Because she was right, of course she was right.
