[Seraphine’s POV]
My maid arrived too early this time.
I had barely washed the tears from my face when her knock sounded: light and polite, but still impossible to ignore.
“My lady? It’s Maris, my lady. I’ve come to tend to your room.”
Panic flared, sharp and instinctive. I glanced at my stripped and sweat-damp bed. The basin. The herbs. Too much evidence of a troubled dawn. And yet, refusing her entry would raise more questions.
“Come in,” I called, steadying my voice as best I could.
Maris slipped inside, small and unassuming as ever, her arms laden with folded linens. She curtsied, then moved toward the bed with the quiet efficiency of someone who’d served nobles her whole life.
I turned away, pretending to busy myself with the window latch, but I saw her freeze in the corner of my vision.
She had noticed the sheets.
No blood. Again.
Her stare lingered too long on the tangled linen before she resumed stripping the bed—too brisk, too careful. Her posture had changed; the carefree rhythm of her work was gone, replaced by watchfulness. My pulse quickened.
She moved toward my bedside table next, reaching for the little pouch of monthly herbs. The string was untouched, just as it had been for weeks.
Her hand hovered over it.
“My lady,” she said softly, “shall I fetch you a fresh satchel from the stillroom? Mistress Elowen prepared your usual blend.”
“I— I’ve not needed it,” I replied quickly.
Her eyes flicked up. “You haven’t needed it,” she murmured, “for three moons now.”
A cold wave washed through me.
She hadn’t meant to say it, with her face betrayed that much, but the truth had slipped out anyway, and the silence that followed was suffocating.
“You’ve been counting?” I asked, forcing calm I did not feel.
Her cheeks colored. “I keep the ledger for the herbs. I notice what’s used and what isn’t. And I notice when a lady’s… patterns change.”
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. “Maris,” I said carefully, “you’re treading very close to impertinence.”
She bowed her head, but her voice stayed steady. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I only worry for your health. You look pale. Faint. And the sheets…” Her gaze drifted to the bare mattress. “You’re ill or… you’re not bleeding.”
The room felt suddenly too small, the walls too close. If a simple servant girl could piece this together…
“Elowen is tending me,” I lied. “That’s all.”
Maris didn’t move. “My sister had three babies,” she said quietly. “I’ve seen these signs before.”
Her meaning hit me like a blow. My fingers dug into the shawl around my shoulders.
“Whatever you think you’ve noticed, you must forget it.”
For the first time since she entered, her composure cracked. She looked up—not shy, not fearful, but worried.
“Sir Rowan said you’d say that.”
All the breath left my lungs. “Rowan?” I whispered. “My childhood friend? The last remnant of Eryndale surviving its fall? You’ve spoken to him? Where’s he hiding, tell me!”
“Not spoken,” she corrected quickly. “But he… he made sure I knew to watch over you. Back in Eryndale. Before the fall.”
She continued in a rush, as if afraid she’d lose her nerve. “I was a kitchen maid then. He used to take bread from the loaves I carried to the barracks. When the kingdom fell and they moved you here, he found me amid the chaos. He said if I ever came near your service, I was to watch. Quietly. Carefully. Because you would never ask for help.”
My knees weakened. I gripped the bedpost to stay upright. Rowan. Still protecting me. Still risking everything.
“Has he asked about me recently?” I forced out.
Maris hesitated. “Only whether you seem… yourself. Healthy. Safe.”
A mix of warmth and dread spiraled through me. If Rowan suspected something was wrong, he might draw to the palace much closer than he's allowed to. And if Aldric’s men noticed… I could not let Rowan be dragged into this danger.
“You must tell him nothing,” I said sharply.
Her eyes widened. “My lady—”
“Nothing,” I repeated. “If I wish him to know, I will say so myself.”
She swallowed hard, but she nodded. Silence settled between us: thick, frayed, and edged with fear. She studied me again, with her gaze softer now, almost pleading.
“My lady,” she whispered, “if you carry the king’s child… he’ll never let you leave this place.”
“He already doesn’t,” I said bitterly.
“Not like that.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “If you give him an heir, there’ll be guards outside this door day and night. You won’t walk the gardens alone. You won’t attend meals unless he says so. You won’t breathe without his permission.”
Every word sliced deeper.
“He would see the baby as his legacy,” Maris murmured. “And you as the vessel of it.”
A cold tremor rippled down my spine. I couldn’t breathe or think. Aldric’s grip was already iron, but what would it be when he held not just my body but the life inside it?
I lifted my chin. “Maris. Listen to me.”
Her eyes snapped to mine.
“What you suspect must remain only suspicion. You will not speak of it to anyone. Not the other wives. Not the guards. Not the cooks. Not even Elowen. No child in me, you understand?”
She wet her lips, nervous but resolute. “If something is wrong—”
“If something is wrong, I will tell you.” The lie felt heavy, but necessary. Maris had come with me from Eryndale, one of the few familiar faces left from the wreckage of my old life, but that didn’t make her safe. Not with secrets like this. “For now, silence is the only safety I have. And it must be yours as well.”
She took a long, careful breath. “I swear it,” she said at last. “Unless your life is in danger and you cannot speak for yourself, I’ll keep your secret.”
Relief loosened the iron band around my ribs. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded and resumed gathering the sheets. “There are eyes everywhere in this palace,” she murmured. “But there are also those of us who look away when it matters.”
A small spark warmed my chest—quickly smothered by fear. I managed a faint nod. “Go, before someone wonders why you linger.”
She slipped out, the door closing softly behind her.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before. I sat on the edge of the bare mattress, my hand drifting to my abdomen. Beneath my palm, nothing had changed—and yet everything had.
Elowen knew. Maris suspected. Rowan watched from the shadows. And if these three threads broke under the weight of my secret, the entire fabric of the palace could unravel at any moment.
Discovery wasn’t a distant threat—it was stalking me already.
I curled my fingers against my belly. “We must move soon,” I whispered to the life inside me. “Before he realizes.”
A sudden knock shattered the quiet—firm, male, unmistakably official.
“Your Majesty,” a steward’s voice called. “The king requests your presence. Immediately.”
My heart lurched painfully.
Aldric.
The timing was too sharp, too sudden—too dangerous. I stood frozen, with a breath locked in my throat.
He knows or at least suspects. He’s already watching.
And I was out of time.