Varya's feet only touched the floor when she was tossed into a ship, her son tossed into her lap like he wasn't a living, breathing being.
When the guard turned to walk away, she glared at him, her icy blue eyes piercing into his receding form.
"Basil…" Varya whispered, a lump forming in her throat yet again as she gazed down at her son.
His skin was so pale and his breathing seemed laborious. With all the aura taken out of him, he felt so cold. She held his small body in her arms and rested her cheek on his head.
Her arms were in an uncomfortable position after being cuffed on the way there. It didn't matter. She was going to hold onto him for dear life no matter what.
"It's okay," she said. "Daddy will get us out of here."
