Cora shifted slightly toward the door. “The queen is with child?” This was certainly the first time Cora had heard of the news.
Sera continued to wind a strand of hair around her finger. Taking on the telltale tone of someone relaying a juicy bit of gossip, she said, “According to Queen Helena, yes. The morning we left Verlot, she told us she was absolutely certain her daughter had conceived on her wedding night and ordered us to forbid the queen even a single glass of wine while she was away. I daresay she must be right, for of course Her Majesty would conceive easily. She is queen, after all, and knows her duty is to bring Menah’s next heir into the world. Her son will be heir to two kingdoms because when her father dies, she’ll inherit Selay too. Can you imagine how great a kingdom she’ll have when Selay and Menah merge as one?” She lowered her voice to a whisper again. “Much larger than your own kingdom, Highness.”
Cora stared blankly at the girl. That was the most Sera had ever spoken to her. Apparently, if the topic was Mareleau, she’d be impossible to stop. Well, that was a subject Cora could do without.
Before Cora could dismiss her once more, Sera spoke again, eyes going suddenly wide.
“Is it really possible to know if one’s pregnant immediately after one’s wedding night?” Trepidation and a hint of panic wafted from the girl. “Or one’s…you know…night?”
The guard let out a cough to mask what had started as a bark of laughter.
Sera stiffened, cheeks turning pink as if she’d forgotten the man’s presence.
Cora debated the best answer she could give—one that wouldn’t undermine whatever Queen Helena had said while also convincing Sera to leave her alone already—when a clairsentient feeling struck her, telling her she was on the verge of a truth she wasn’t supposed to know. She shouldn’t care; this situation had nothing to do with her. But the niggling feeling had her stringing facts together in her mind: Queen Helena’s certainty that her daughter had conceived, Mareleau’s sudden marriage and surprising change of groom, her aggressive protectiveness over Larylis…
Mother Goddess, Mareleau and Larylis had had anaffair.
It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would Teryn not have married her? Why else would Larylis be King of Menah in Teryn’s stead? There was no way Teryn would havechosensuch a thing were it not a last resort.
The thought tied her heart and stomach in knots.
“Never mind,” Sera said with a huff, clearly frustrated by Cora’s lack of answer. “I was only asking for a friend.Itrust Queen Helena’s judgment.” Then, without offering any kind of formal farewell, she turned on her heel and rushed down the stairs.
Cora roused herself from thoughts of Mareleau, Larylis, and Teryn.
And Teryn.
Teryn.
She shook her head, forcing him from her mind at last. She had a vital task to perform, one that required a clear head and emotional fortitude. Rising from the floor, she strode to the table, retrieved the amber crystal, and brought it back to the water basin. With a deep breath, she dropped it beneath the surface and gave herself over to the miracles of quiet magic.
Until quiet magic turned to blood.
22
Cora watched with terror as the water in the basin turned crimson. She wanted to believe it was a trick of the light, the orange glow of the crystal reflecting off the copper bowl, deepening into scarlet. But she knew the truth. It filled her with a sickening certainty.
The crystal was leaking blood.
It shouldn’t have surprised her. She knew this was Morkai’s crystal, remembered how it had dripped blood when she’d found it on the battlefield, broken off from his cane dagger. She’d suspected that he’d somehow used the crystal to store the blood he’d stolen for his weavings.
And now it was filling the basin, flooding it with the essence of countless victims, most of whom were probably dead.
Her own ball of blood was likely in the pool, swirling, mingling…
Bile rose into her throat, but she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t move. Her shoulders began to tremble, her mind reeling between shock and panic. The water was so dark, the crystal was almost invisible now.
Cora.
Valorre’s familiar energy reached through her frazzled emotions, cleaving through her panic, and separating her from her fear. She hadn’t been out to see her unicorn friend since the night of Lurel’s death, but he’d come close enough to the castle walls to check in with her now and then.
Are you all right?
She forced herself to her feet, averting her gaze from the basin. Then, focusing on the elements—on the heat from the hearth, the smell of herbs wafting from the fire, the feel of solid stone beneath her leather slippers, the glittering dewdrops lining the windowsill—she drew her shields tight around her. She’d need to lower them again before she got back to work, lest she fail to sense hidden dangers, but for now they served as a sense of safety.
I’m all right, she conveyed to Valorre.
I worry, he said from somewhere in the forest.
