The camp thinned out. Bodies dispersing to their assignments, leaving the central clearing quiet. Just me and the sound of water filling my canteen.
I was crouching at the supply station when a shadow fell over me.
“You look terrible.”
Annora stood three feet away, arms folded. Her gaze ran from my mud-caked boots to my tangled hair. The tunnel grime was still on my clothes, dirt under my nails, dark circles carved beneath my eyes.
“You smell worse,” she added. “Is this what a future queen looks like? Crawling through drainage pipes and kneeling in filth?”
“It’s what someone who actually does the work looks like.” I stood and capped the canteen. “But I’m guessing you wouldn’t know.”
“I know what Veyndral expects of their queen. Poise, breeding, with centuries of preparation.” She gestured at me, head to toe. “Not this.”
“And yet here I stand.”
Her jaw tightened. “Enjoy the position while it lasts. Lucian and I have a connection that you can’t erase with a bond.”
“Do you want me to congratulate you?”
“I am the next queen of Veyndral.” She said it with the absolute certainty of repeating it to herself every morning for a hundred years. “The only thing standing between me and that crown is a biological accident growing inside a disgusting human who doesn’t belong here.”
My hand went to my stomach as I grit my teeth. “Don’t involve my children in this.”
“Why not? They’re half-breeds.” She smirked. “Abominations. Three lives that should never have been conceived.”
“Be careful of your words, Annora.”
“The bond was a mistake.” She stepped closer. “And the sooner Lucian realizes that, the sooner this little fantasy of yours ends. He’s done it before, hasn’t he? Rejected you once already.”
Her smile turned vicious. “He’ll do it again. And this time you won’t have anywhere to run. Save yourself the heartbreak.”
“You think bringing up the rejection hurts me?” My voice stayed level. “I survived it. And I’m still here. Can you say the same?”
“You’re just here because they knocked you up.” Her eyes traced the bump under my shirt. “You’re a pastime, Mira. A distraction he’ll outgrow. And when the war ends and the politics settle, Lucian will see what everyone else already sees. That we are not on the same level.”
She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “He’ll find his way back to what makes sense. And it won’t be you.”
I laughed. “You’ve been waiting for hundreds of years and he’s yet to make you his queen. But sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
Her composure broke.
The shove came with the full weight of her anger. I stumbled and my back hit the dirt. The impact jarred through my spine and my elbow cracked against a tree root.
I curled instinctively. Both arms around my belly, knees drawing up, every survival instinct screaming protect them.
For two seconds I didn’t breathe. Just pressed my palms flat against the bump and waited for the kicks. The relief almost broke me.
Then the anger buried everything else.
I got up. Dirt grinding into my knee, mud on my palms, the ache in my elbow pulsing. Annora watched me rise but she didn’t expect me to grab her braid.
My fist closed around the base and I yanked. Her head snapped back and she shrieked, a sound that stripped centuries of aristocratic composure in under a second. I dragged her three steps toward the stream, my grip twisting tighter as she clawed at my wrist.
“You dare push me to the ground.” I forced her head down toward the muddy bank. “Let’s see how you handle it.”
Her knees buckled. I shoved her face toward the water, close enough that the mud splattered her cheek and the stream lapped at her chin. She thrashed against my grip and her nails raked my forearm but I held on.
“My children are not abominations.” I pushed her closer. “Say it.”
