She stomped down the stairs and across the open area, not stopping when she reached her ladies but breezing past them and out of the room. Her ladies rose and scurried after her.
As the doors banged close, titters swirled through the gathering.
Even Moira and Calista appeared shocked.
Reyla remained still beside me, her face flaming. Her growing frustration would not surpass mine.
“Should I have said something?” she asked quietly. “Soothed her in some way?”
“I had to confront her.” Weariness settled in my bones. “There is no good time.” I'd acted in response to her behavior, and I could see now that my mother had probably driven me to it.
She’d made me snap. Half-bellow.
At her subtle command, I'd shown the court that there was a feud within the royal family, that she and I were at odds. I could not allow this to continue.
It would take time to repair their perception. Time I didn’t have.
I took Reyla’s hand and lifted it, kissing the back while keeping my eyes locked on hers. “I'll fix this, somehow.”
“If you can. I want to help. I hate that she's doing all she can to undermine you when…” When I could be dead soon. But my mother didn't know that. The entire court was bound by the curse. A few facts might slip through, and they had with Reyla, but if I died on my thirtieth birthday, it would be as much of a surprise as when my father passed, and his father before him. No one would connect my death to theirs. And so it would go for each new generation.
Unless we ended it now.
If Reyla did not give birth to my son, he wouldn't grow up only to die on his thirtieth birthday.
The curse would stop with me—as would the male rule of Evergorne Court.
Yet, by the time I died, my mother would have planted enough seeds of doubt that the high lords and ladies would select her as the new queen, shoving Reyla aside. The only thing that would keep this from happening would be a pregnancy that would deliver a new heir.
I wanted to snarl and gnash my teeth, but I told myself to be patient. The thread of hope I'd clung to since I met Reyla was a fragile, shredding thing. I worried it would snap before long.
“I'll fix it,” I said again. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”
“She makes the mistakes, not you.”
“Yet she's dragging you into this battle. You should be settling easily into your role here at Evergorne, not dealing with all this.”
The curse.
My mother.
My imminent death.
So much needed doing, but I only knew a fraction of how we could end this. What sucked the most was that I couldn't tell her much of anything. She had to arrive at each destination on her own and without my guidance. That much I'd learned from my father, though I’d added to the small amount of knowledge he’d shared.
“My role here is still being defined,” Reyla said. “We’re going to rule this court together.”
This was why I could still cling to the belief we could break the curse.
Because I had this woman by my side.
As the courtended and the lords and ladies left, Talvon, the head of my guard, signaled he'd like to approach the throne. At my nod, he bounded up the stairs and stopped in front of us. “Lord Briscalar has returned. He’s waiting to speak with you in the Gold Room.”
“Excellent.” I turned to Reyla. “You may have noticed I'd borrowed the head of your entourage.”
“I was going to send for him soon. Days ago, he said he needed to speak with me, but we were caught up with other things, and I didn’t find time to seek him. Where has he been?”
“That—” I swept my gaze across those lingering in the back of the room, their attention, and likely their ears, on us and not whatever they were pretending to do. “I'd like to share that news with you in a different, quieter location. Plus hear of your earlier concerns.”
