POV: Rosalinda
I had never wanted a child who was not mine.
That thought followed me through the corridors of the royal castle as I answered Cassian’s summons. Servants bowed as I passed, heads lowered, eyes careful. The stones beneath my slippers were cold, polished smooth by centuries of rule, and the banners overhead bore Cassian’s sigil stitched in gold.
I wore the crown now. I wore silks and jewels. I was queen in everything that mattered. And yet, there was one thing in this castle that did not belong to me.
The boy.
When I entered the solar, I saw him immediately. Luka sat near the hearth, legs folded awkwardly beneath him, clutching a carved wooden wolf.
He was five years old now, soft-cheeked and a little chubby in the way children should be, with dark curls that refused to stay neat. His eyes were green—too bright, too watchful—and they kept drifting toward the door, as if he were still waiting for someone.
Cassian stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, studying the boy with a look that unsettled me. It was not affection. It was possession.
“Your Majesty,” I said, inclining my head.
Cassian turned with a smile that told me he had already decided something unpleasant. “Rosalinda. Come closer. This concerns you as well.”
Luka rose clumsily and bowed, the movement rehearsed but imperfect. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” he said.
I forced my lips into a polite smile. “Good afternoon, Luka.”
Cassian stepped closer to the boy and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Sit,” he said gently. “We need to talk.”
Luka’s fingers tightened around the toy. “Is it about my mommy?” he asked, hope flaring instantly in his voice.
I felt my jaw tighten. Cassian sighed, lowering himself to one knee so he was eye level with the child.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It is.”
Luka’s face brightened. “She’s coming back, isn’t she?” he asked eagerly. “I told them she would. Someone bad took her away, but she’ll find me.”
The lie Cassian told next was delivered with such calm precision that it made my skin crawl.
“Your mother chose to leave,” Cassian said. “She abandoned you.”
Luka shook his head fiercely. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. “She loved me. She sang to me and promised she’d come back.”
Cassian’s expression softened into practiced sorrow. “She loved you in her own way,” he replied. “But some people are weak. When responsibility becomes too heavy, they run.”
I stepped forward despite myself. “Cassian, that is enough.”
He silenced me with a raised hand and continued, never taking his eyes off the boy. “Waiting for someone who will never return will only hurt you,” he said. “I won’t let you live in false hope.”
Tears filled Luka’s eyes. “She didn’t leave me,” he whispered. “Someone took her.”
Cassian leaned in closer. “That is what she wanted you to believe.”
I watched Luka’s small shoulders sag as if something inside him had collapsed. He wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, breathing unevenly.
“Why would she do that?” he asked quietly.
“She did not want to be a mother,” Cassian replied evenly. “And she did not deserve you.”
Something twisted in my chest, sharp and unexpected. Luka looked down at the wooden wolf, gripping it tightly.
“I miss her,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Cassian’s tone softened again, dangerously convincing. “You are not alone,” he said. “You have me. I stayed, and I have always been your father.”
The lie slid from his mouth without effort.
“And tomorrow,” Cassian continued, “I will announce you to the court as my heir.”
Luka blinked. “An heir?”
“Yes,” Cassian said. “The future king.”
My hands clenched at my sides. Cassian straightened and turned slightly toward me.
“And this,” he said, gesturing, “is Queen Rosalinda. She will be your mother now.”
Luka looked at me uncertainly. “Mother?” he tried, hesitant and fragile.
“No,” I said sharply. The room went still.
Cassian turned toward me slowly, warning burning in his eyes. “Rosalinda.”
“You did not discuss this with me,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to control it. “I did not agree to raise another woman’s child.”
Luka flinched, drawing back as if struck.
Cassian rose slowly, towering over me. “Watch your tone,” he said. “This is not a negotiation.”
“This is my life,” I replied. “My crown and my future. I will not be reduced to a replacement for a woman you discarded.”
Cassian’s lips curved into a thin smile. “You will do what is required of you,” he said. “As you always have.”
I laughed, sharp and bitter. “You think I am furious because of pride?” I asked. “You expect me to smile while you parade the proof of your betrayal in front of the entire court!”
His eyes hardened. “Careful.”
“I will be,” I said. “Because I am not blind. This child is not yours.”
Cassian’s hand closed around my arm, fingers digging in painfully. He leaned close enough that only I could hear him. “He is mine,” he hissed. “In every way that matters. And you will remember that.”
I wrenched my arm free. “You are making a mistake,” I said. “The court will see through this.”
“They will see what I tell them to see,” Cassian replied calmly. “Just as they always do.”
Luka stood between us, trembling, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He looked from Cassian to me, confusion etched across his face.
“I don’t want a new mommy,” he whispered. “I want my real one.”
Cassian’s expression darkened. “Enough,” he snapped. He turned to Luka again, forcing his tone back into false warmth. “You are tired. The nurses will take you back to your rooms.”
Guards stepped forward, and the boy was gently but firmly led away. Luka looked back once, his eyes meeting mine, full of pain and fear.
Some ugly and furious feeling burned through me as the doors closed behind him.
Cassian turned to me slowly. “You will play your role,” he said. “Whether you like it or not.”
I stared at him, my hands shaking, my heart pounding with rage that had nowhere to go.
This child was a threat. To my position and my future. To everything I had sacrificed to wear this crown. Cassian, in his arrogance, had just made it clear that he would choose the boy over me if forced to decide.
My anger settled into something colder and sharper, and one thought rose above the rest, clear and dangerous:
I would not be replaced, and I would not forgive him for this.