Mareleau released a huff. “I’m nauseous, all right? That’s all. It started yesterday. My stomach was rumbling most of the day. I worked too hard and got too hungry. Today, I can’t keep anything down. My head is pulsing like it’s about to split in two. I smell terrible.Everythingsmells terrible…and I…well, I simply ate too much cake last night, that’s all.”
Cora’s muscles relaxed. What Mareleau described didn’t sound too dire. But what reason did she have for refusing the attention of a physician?
“It’s all your fault, you know,” Mareleau said.
“My fault?”
“Yes, your fault. I spent hours—hours—slaving away in the courtyard behind the kitchen setting up the perfect romantic dinner for you and your beloved prince. I should have said no, but he begged me. Can you imagine? A prince begging a queen! But I said yes, and?—”
“Wait.” Cora frowned. “Teryn had you set up a private dinner for me?”
“Obviously. You refused to attend, did you not?”
Cora’s mouth fell open but she couldn’t find her words. When Teryn had asked her to dine with him last night, she’d imagined them sitting side by side at the feast in the dining hall, not a private meal made especially for her. Her shoulders sank, as did her heart. Though she supposed it made no difference. Even if she’d known about Teryn’s efforts on her behalf, she still wouldn’t have been able to face him last night. She’d needed that time alone. But now she felt the weight of her rejection, regretted that she never saw what he’d planned for her.
“You shouldn’t spurn him, Princess,” Mareleau said, oblivious to Cora’s inner turmoil. Cora was only half listening as the queen continued. “I was just getting used to having a brother, but I daresay I liked him far less last night than usual. Still, I couldn’t let all my hard work go to waste. If you weren’t going to enjoy the bounty, I might as well, though I regret it now.” She lurched as if about to be sick, but quickly settled.
Cora’s mind sharpened, and her gaze snapped back to Mareleau. “Are you saying you dined with him in my stead?”
“Don’t act jealous with me,” she said with a scoff. “If you’d wanted to sit in my place, you very well could have. And I didn’tdinewith him; I only stayed for cake. One that was clearly underbaked.”
Cora tried to ignore the pinching sensation in her heart and gave Mareleau a pointed look. “I highly doubt your nausea is due to an underbaked cake.”
Mareleau pursed her lips and reached for a lock of silver hair. She began winding three strands into a braid but halted. With a grimace, she glanced down at her tresses where they tangled in something slick. With a whine, she dropped her hair and clasped her hands at her waist. Returning her attention to Cora, she rolled her eyes. “Fine, I admit it. I might have had wine too. Just one glass! All right, two.”
Cora crossed her arms. “That’s not what I meant either. I’m referring to the baby. Morning sickness. Though it isn’t uncommon to be more sensitive to liquor while pregnant.”
“Oh, and how would you know anything about it?”
“Pregnancy and childbirth were common occurrences amongst the people I lived with for the last six years. It wasn’t a taboo subject like it is amongst royal society. We were open about it. Most of us trained in general aid, and I attended my share of births. While I’ve never experienced the condition myself?—”
And never will, thanks to Morkai. The thought invaded her mind so suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. Breathing deeply, she forced the unwanted thought away and focused on what she’d been trying to say. “I have knowledge that can help, should you want it.”
Mareleau quirked a brow, unimpressed with Cora’s credentials. “And what knowledge is that?”
“First, that you really should see a physician when you’re feeling ill. It isn’t safe to neglect such care. Why did you, anyway?”
The queen shifted awkwardly in the bed, a hint of embarrassment on her face. “I didn’t want him to know I’d had wine. If word got back to my mother…ugh. Must I spell it out for you? She wouldn’t approve because of this…” She waved a hand at her belly. “Condition. Don’t you dare say a word to anyone.”
“I won’t, but I doubt the royal physician would have been able to read your perceived sins through your vomit.”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “How should I know what a physician can and can’t do? Is it not their job to read the inner workings of one’s body?”
Cora would be amused if she weren’t so tired. Now that she knew Mareleau wasn’t in any immediate danger, she was desperate for sleep. Brushing her hands on her skirts, she took a step back from the bed. “I’ll request a cup of ginger tea be brought to you at once, which you should have daily from now on.”
“Why is that?”
“Morning sickness can last weeks, and you’re certainly far enough along for it to begin.”
“Surely I’m not. My wedding night wasn’t yet three weeks ago.”
“Oh, right,” Cora said, tone flat. She recalled what Sera had said about Queen Helena preemptively spreading word that her daughter had conceived on her wedding night. All to cover the fact that her daughter was already with child. “Even if thatwerethe case, it still isn’t too soon for these symptoms to begin.”
Mareleau released a disbelieving snort. “What do you know? I already told you it was underbaked cake and wine…” Her words dissolved, taking with it the color in her face. “Wait, what do you mean it’s not too soon to experience…symptoms? That…that even if I’d conceived on my wedding night, I could…”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like.”
“No,” she said with a light chuckle. “That’s not possible.” She held Cora’s gaze with a hopeful grin as if waiting for Cora to agree with her. When Cora remained mute, Mareleau’s expression went blank, eyes wide as they locked on Cora’s. “No!”
