Mireth's face goes pale with the memory. "I was there. Bringing Lady Julia her morning tea. She and the Lord were talking — about names, I think. Names for the baby. She reached out to touch his hand, and..." She stops, her voice catching.
"Tell me."
"His shadows erupted. Without warning, without cause. They lashed out at her — wrapped around her throat before he could stop them. I saw the bruises myself when we finally pulled her free. Dark marks in the shape of fingers, but made of shadow instead of flesh."
The parallel is too exact. Too terrifying.
"He didn't mean to do it," Mireth continues quietly. "I saw his face. The horror. The devastation. He locked himself away for three days afterward, refused to see anyone. When he emerged, he insisted Julia move to separate chambers. For her safety, he said."
"Did it help?"
"For a time. He kept his distance from her. Watched her from afar but wouldn't touch her, wouldn't get close. But..." She hesitates.
"But?"
"The separation seemed to make things worse. Not better. Lady Julia grew weaker despite being away from him. And his control... it deteriorated. There were other incidents. A maid who startled him and ended up with a broken arm. A courier who brought bad news and was pinned to the wall by shadows for nearly a minute before the Lord could release him."
I think of the garden. The children are screaming. The frost spread across the grass. The shadow tendril that sliced my arm before Malakai could divert it.
"How did she die?" I ask, though I already know part of the answer from the journal. I need to know what Mireth saw.
The old woman's eyes fill with ancient sorrow. "I don't know exactly. No one does, except perhaps the Lord himself. She simply... stopped. One morning, she didn't wake. The healers said her heart gave out, that the pregnancy had drained too much from her."
"But you don't believe that."
"I believe she was dying long before her heart stopped." Mireth's voice is heavy with old grief. "I believe whatever darkness lives in the Lord, it was consuming her. Slowly. Inevitably. And when she finally passed..."
"What happened?"
"The Lord..." Mireth's voice drops even lower. "When he found her, his grief nearly destroyed the palace. The entire east wing collapsed from the force of his shadows. Three servants died in the destruction. He didn't even seem to notice. Just knelt there in the rubble, holding her body, making sounds that..." She shudders. "I've lived centuries, my lady. I've heard many terrible things. But I've never heard anything like the sounds he made that day."
"And the baby?"
"Gone with her. The healers think Lady Julia was too weak to carry to term. The pregnancy drained something vital from her, though none of them could explain what or why." She reaches out, her gnarled hand covering mine. "That's why I'm telling you this, child. Because I see the same signs now. The Lord's shadows growing unstable. You growing pale and tired. Whatever darkness lives in him, it responds to the bond. To the pregnancy. And it doesn't end well."
I stare at her, my heart pounding. "You think the same thing is happening to me."
"I think you should be very careful." Her grip tightens on my hand. "I think you should consider whether staying is worth the risk. To yourself. To your child."
"Are you telling me to leave?"
"I'm telling you what I saw." She releases my hand, her expression sorrowful. "What you do with that knowledge is your choice. But if I were carrying new life, and if I had seen what I've seen..." She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.
I sit there for a long moment, processing everything she's told me. The pattern is undeniable. Julia was pregnant, weakening, while Malakai's shadows grew violent and uncontrollable. And now me — pregnant, already injured by shadows he couldn't control, watching him struggle against a darkness that seems to be winning.
"Thank you," I finally say, rising on unsteady legs. "For telling me the truth."
"I pray you use it wisely, my lady." Mireth returns to her herbs, her movements slower now, burdened. "And I pray your story ends differently than hers."
I leave the kitchen with her words echoing in my mind. Whatever darkness lives in him, it responds to the bond. To the pregnancy. And it doesn't end well.
The rest of the day passes in a fog. I attend a fitting for the ceremonial gown I'm supposed to wear at tomorrow's mysterious announcement. Malakai didn't tell me why he is going to address the court, we haven't really talked since when I asked him about children. I believe that he is keeping his distance from me for a reason. The seamstresses flutter around me, oblivious to the turmoil inside my head.
Ivy finds me in the late afternoon, materializing on my window seat with her usual dramatic flair. She's wearing something gauzy and shimmering, her wings catching the fading light in prismatic patterns.
"So," she announces, examining her perfectly manicured nails, "I've decided Emmett is my new project."
Despite everything churning in my mind, I can't help but look at her. "Your what?"
