Thirteen years later
POV: Rosalinda
Time had passed, and still the crown did not feel secure on my head.
The court had learned to bow properly, to speak my name with reverence, to dress their obedience in silk and smiles. Cassian ruled as he always had—through fear sharpened into law—but even fear grew dull when repeated too often.
The kingdom endured, the borders held, and the banners still flew, yet the future remained stubbornly out of reach.
Because the heir was unhappy.
Luka stood beside the throne during councils now, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark curls pulled back in a style Cassian preferred. His green eyes, once wide with confusion and longing, had hardened into something distant and guarded.
He obeyed when spoken to, trained when commanded, and performed his duties with the precision of someone who had learned early that resistance only invited punishment. He never smiled.
Cassian called it discipline. I recognized it for what it was: quiet rebellion.
And beneath that simmered my own failure. Selena’s brews had not worked.
Not the teas brewed under full moons. Not the tonics steeped in bloodroot and silverleaf. Not the whispered charms meant to coax life into a reluctant womb. Year after year, my body had betrayed me, refusing to give Cassian what he wanted most and what I needed to survive.
A child of my own. Without it, I remained useful, but never indispensable. Without it, Luka stood between me and permanence like a living accusation.
I paced my bedroom, the heavy rugs muffling my steps, the walls glimmering with gold inlay and carved scenes of past queens holding infants to their breasts. The room was rich to the point of suffocation—velvet drapes, jeweled lamps, a bed draped in silks softer than sin.
None of it mattered.
I stopped before the mirror and studied my reflection. I still looked young enough to inspire envy, still carried myself with practiced grace, but time was not waiting for me. Cassian’s attention had drifted elsewhere, toward war councils and punishments, toward a son who no longer needed a mother figure to command obedience.
Unless I gave him one more reason.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” I said sharply.
The maid stepped in hesitantly, closing the door behind her with careful hands. Emerika was small and thin, with long red hair braided down her back and blue eyes that darted nervously around the room. She wore a plain servant’s dress, freshly laundered, and stood with her shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to take up less space.
“You sent for me, Your Majesty?” she asked.
“Come closer,” I replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.
Emerika obeyed, though every step betrayed her unease. When she stopped a few paces away, I gestured to the chair near the hearth. “Sit.”
She did so, hands folded tightly in her lap.
“You serve in the east wing,” I said casually. “Near the prince’s chambers, right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You see him often, then.”
Her fingers twisted together. “Sometimes.”
I leaned forward slightly, fixing her with my gaze. “Tell me what kind of man he is.”
Emerika hesitated. “He is… quiet,” she said carefully. “He treats servants fairly and never shouts.”
Not like his father, the unspoken words lingered between us.
“And the young ladies of the court?” I prompted. “Do they interest him?”
Emerika’s cheeks flushed. “They try,” she said. “He does not encourage them.”
I smiled faintly. “Of course he doesn’t. He was raised to be careful.”
Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. I allowed it, watching the girl squirm beneath it.
“Emerika,” I said at last, softening my tone, “do you know why I chose you? You are invisible,” I said simply. “And you are fertile.”
Her breath hitched. “Your Majesty?”
I stood and crossed the room, stopping in front of her. “You are seventeen,” I said. “Healthy. Unmarried and unnoticed. All very useful traits.”
Fear bloomed in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“You will,” I replied. “I need you to grow close to the prince.”
Emerika’s face drained of color. “I can’t,” she whispered. “He is—”
“The future king,” I finished. “And a young man who is lonely, watched, and starved of affection.”
She shook her head frantically. “Please, Your Majesty. I don’t want—”
I lifted a hand, silencing her. “This is not a request.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re asking me to do something forbidden.”
“You serve your queen,” I said coldly. “As you swore you would.”
Emerika’s shoulders trembled. “If anyone finds out—”
“No one will,” I replied. “And if they do, you will be protected. I will see to it. After, you will give me what I need.”
Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I don’t understand…”
“A child,” I said. “An heir born of your body.”
Emerika stared at me in horror. “You want to take my baby.”
“It will save the kingdom,” I corrected. “And you will be rewarded generously.”
“And the prince?” she asked shakily.
My lips curved into a thin smile. “He will never know the truth.”
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Emerika’s breathing grew uneven as she struggled to comprehend what I was asking of her.
“And then,” I said calmly, “once the child is secured and recognized, the prince will fall ill.”
Her head snapped up. “Fall ill? You mean—”
“Poison,” I said evenly. “Slow and undetectable. Final.”
Emerika recoiled as if struck. “I can’t,” she sobbed. “I can’t do that.”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice until it wrapped around her like a trap. “You can,” I said. “And you will. If you refuse, I will tell the court you seduced the prince for your own gain. You will be executed, and your family will follow.”
Her sobs broke free then, shoulders shaking violently. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me do this.”
I tilted her chin up with one finger, forcing her to meet my gaze. “This is how power works,” I said quietly. “You are not the first girl to be sacrificed for a crown.”
She searched my face desperately, hoping to find mercy. She found none. After a long, shuddering moment, she nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will do it.”
I straightened, smoothing my gown as if nothing of consequence had occurred. “Good girl,” I said. “You will be instructed carefully. You will say nothing to anyone.”
Emerika rose unsteadily, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Your Majesty,” she said, her voice hollow.
When the door closed behind her, I returned to the mirror.
Soon, Cassian would believe I carried life within me. The court would look at me not as a placeholder, but as a mother-to-be with authority written into her body. And soon, the throne would belong to a child I could shape from the beginning.
Whatever the cost.