She turned to Doreah. "Tell me."
I... I shall bring Sir Jorah, the Lysene girl said, bowing her head and fleeing the tent.
Jhiqui would have run as well, but Dany caught her by the wrist and held her captive. "What is it? I must know. Drogo... and my child." Why had she not remembered the child until now? "My son... Rhaego... where is he? I want him."
Her handmaid lowered her eyes. "The boy... he did not live, Khaleesi." Her voice was a frightened whisper.
Dany released her wrist. My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent. She had known somehow. She had known since she woke the first time to Jhiqui's tears. No, she had known before she woke. Her dream came back to her, sudden and vivid, and she remembered the tall man with the copper skin and long silver-gold braid, bursting into flame.
She should weep, she knew, yet her eyes were dry as ash. She had wept in her dream, and the tears had turned to steam on her cheeks. All the grief has been burned out of me, she told herself. She felt sad, and yet... she could feel Rhaego receding from her, as if he had never been.