Cora held a secret smile. Perhaps she wasn’t the only queen who was also a witch.
“Do you want to see him?” Mareleau’s question pulled Cora from her thoughts. She angled her head at the empty space beside her, opposite Helena.
“Of course,” Cora said with more enthusiasm than she felt. More than anything, she wanted to curl up on a soft surface and go back to sleep. Yet she wanted to enjoy this moment with her friend. Of course she did.
Reluctantly, she dragged herself off the ground, her body aching from her unfortunate sleeping position, and settled in beside Mareleau. She was careful not to get too close lest she wake the sleeping baby in her friend’s arms. Perhaps she was a touch anxious too, though she wasn’t sure why. She’d been around plenty of infants and children when she’d lived with the Forest People. Even so, she wouldn’t call her maternal instincts strong. Maiya, her dear friend and foster sister, had excelled in that regard, scooping up the little ones and swinging them around while Cora kept a modest distance. Then again, Cora had kept nearly everyone in the commune at arm’s length.
Mareleau leaned slightly closer to Cora, showing off her bundle. A tiny, wrinkled face was all Cora could see in the swaddling, and though she should say he was beautiful, he looked…less so.
Her maternal instincts were awful indeed.
“He’s lovely,” Cora said, forcing her voice to sound wistful.
Mareleau furrowed her brow, and for a moment, Cora feared she’d oversold the compliment. But Mareleau’s next words held a note of concern. “Is this painful for you? To…to see him? To be in this situation with me?”
Cora’s stomach plummeted as she realized what Mareleau was implying. She was concerned for Cora’s well-being because of the curse that had been placed upon her. Because this experience was one Cora might never have. To be honest, Cora hadn’t given it much thought while she’d been aiding Mareleau through her labor, but now…
The unicorns. The mother. The child. Who do you think you are in that prophecy?
No, she still didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to revisit what Morkai had done to her. Didn’t want to reflect on all the information she’d learned from Teryn, pieces of the prophecy that proved, without a doubt, she had been the prophesied mother Morkai had sought.
Blood of the witch, blood of the Elvyn, and blood of the crown. The unicorn will signify her awakening.
More than that, she didn’t want to think about what her curse meant for El’Ara. Without their true Morkara, there was no one to command the flow of themora—the fae word for magic—and keep it from seeping out into the human world. No one to stop the Blight that was slowly consuming the realm.
It wasn’t sorrow that kept her from these thoughts, nor was it grief.
No, it was something darker.
Something she didn’t want to admit.
Apathy.
An emotion that lingered in the wake of her time in El’Ara, when she’d been treated like a criminal by the Elvyn who’d found her. Two of the males, Etrix and Garot, had been kind to her, but Fanon had nearly gotten her killed. Had nearly killed her himself. Even the Faeryn, the race of High Fae the Forest People were descended from, did nothing but eye her with disdain when she’d come across a group of them trying to heal the Blight.
If she looked too close at that apathy, if she recognized even an ounce of truth in it, she’d have to consider that maybe she wasn’t such a good person.
Cora forced a smile to her lips. “I’m fine, Mare.” Her eyes darted to Helena, who was watching them intently.
Mareleau stiffened, as if only now remembering her mother’s presence. She angled her head toward the queen mother, but Helena already seemed to understand. Scooting off the bed, she said, “I should see if your husband is awake yet.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Mareleau’s voice held more gratitude than Cora was used to hearing from her friend. “If he’s still asleep, let him stay that way, just a little longer. He was awake all morning.”
Helena nodded, then left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.
Once they were alone, Mareleau faced Cora again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up in front of Mother. She doesn’t know about…”
“My curse,” Cora finished for her, voice flat.
Mareleau spoke again. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t think of you, that I didn’t worry about you until this moment.”
Cora let out a long breath, and when she attempted her smile once more, it was genuine. “I can’t possibly condemn you for not thinking of me until now.Iwasn’t thinking of myself either.”
“Still, I’ll ask you again. Is this painful for you?”
“I’m all right,” Cora said, not bothering to hide the weary edge in her voice this time.
“Good.” Mareleau cast her eyes back to her baby. A light laugh left her lips. “You know, newborn babies aren’t quite as cute as we’re led to believe, are they?”
