“Love,” the woman in lavender says, the word laced with open distaste.
If my mother was royalty, how did I end up as the Baron’s bastard? As his servant?
As though she has read my thoughts, Petunis looks at me. “Make no mistake. As disappointing as you are, I would have preferred our Queen Heir to be raised here, behind the safety of our wards. But your mother wished to keep you hidden, and she died before we could confirm your location.”
“I have spent a great deal of coin searching for you. A pity you were raised wearing that veil, or we may have found you sooner. It was Eravic who finally made the discovery.”
She looks up at me. “I hear you are married to a beast of some kind. It is a shame. Eravic Vaelor is well endowed, is he not, Lord Vaelor?”
A man steps forward and bows. “Yes, I have heard such rumors about my son.”
What the fuck?
Nyara leans in and whispers, “I had forgotten his father sits on Alarna’s council.” She nudges me. “Fix your face. Alarnans are known to be…bold with words.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say through gritted teeth.
I open my mouth to speak, but Queen Petunis lifts a hand.
“I dislike interrogation,” she says. “And I dislike discussion of my foolish sister even more.”
Yet you can discuss Eravic Vaelor’s girth in a throne room.
Her eyes find mine, cold and precise. “You are too old to grieve someone you have never met, and too young to think you can pester me, the queen, with questions.”
Nyara nudges me lightly. I close my mouth.
It is then that I realize Aunt Jularin’s hand is still on my abdomen. “The pregnancy is likely not viable, Princess,” I say quietly. “Lady Nyara is correct. I have been through much.”
“Please, call me Aunt,” Princess Jularin says gently. Then before I can stop her, warmth moves through me. It spreads through my body in a way that feels both foreign and deeply familiar at once, my skin beginning to glow faintly as something shifts beneath it.
My fingers tremble. I try to move, but I cannot. Her eyes are closed as she hums, the sound low and resonant, threading through the room in a way that seems to reach far deeper than it should.
“Stop,” I say, my voice cutting through it. “I did not give permission.”
She removes her hand and looks at me. “We will evaluate you further after the scouring.” Her voice is gentle.
“Just say it,” Queen Petunis snaps. “You speak so slow, Jularin. You always have, and I do not have the patience for it today."
Jularin smiles, unbothered by Queen Petunis. Then she turns to the court. “The Queen Heir carries a strong, healthy son,” she announces. “His heart is stronger than any I have ever listened for. He will be a great protector.”
I close my eyes, unable to disguise my relief.A strong heart.
She turns, then whispers in my ear. “He is a siakar.”
I hold back tears, wishing Colsar were here.
The room stills.
Then—
A man rises slowly. “Let all who hear it say her name.”
Another stands. “Let all who hear it say her name.”
The words spread. Voice to voice.
Until Queen Petunis stands tall above them all. “Let all of Alarna know,” she declares, her voice carrying through every corner of the chamber, “its Queen Heir has arrived, and its royal bloodline continues.”
