[Seraphine’s POV]
The king’s voice still echoed through my bones when dawn bled pale light across the castle walls. My body ached with exhaustion—not from sleep, but from the battle that took place in my chambers hours earlier.
He’d dismissed the servants and stepped inside with that quiet, deadly certainty of his.
“You will warm my bed tonight,” he said, as if granting me a privilege.
And I said no.
His face darkened instantly. Aldric didn’t tolerate disobedience, especially not from a wife he’d taken in fire and blood. The argument that followed carved deep grooves into the night. He told me refusal was a stain on his honor; I told him being his wife wasn’t an obligation to surrender my will. He said I owed him loyalty; I said he’d killed everything I could ever be loyal to.
By the end, I wasn’t sure whether he wanted to shake me or silence me. Instead, he forced himself to leave—perhaps the last shred of his self-control at work—his parting promise cold enough to frost the windows.
“We will discuss your defiance again soon.”
His anger terrified me almost as much as the truth in my belly. A child. His child. And if he sensed even a whisper of that truth… He would cage me forever. A dreadful thought whispered through me like a forbidden prayer: Maybe I can end this? Ending it is the only way to survive him.
A soft knock broke through my spiraling fear. Before I could answer, Elowen slipped inside with her basket of herbs, her face drawn tight with worry.
“You look worse today,” she murmured.
I forced a thin smile. “You’re supposed to say I look radiant.”
“Radiant women don’t vomit before breakfast,” she said, closing the door with her hip. “Sit, Sera.”
I obeyed, lowering myself into the chair. My body felt heavier each day, as if the child inside me now anchored every breath.
Elowen began unpacking herbs—nausea blends, pain relievers, tonics. The familiar motions steadied me briefly. She had tended to me since childhood. She was the only one left from Eryndale who still spoke to me softly, without fear or calculation.
But that was exactly why I had to ask her this.
“Elowen,” I whispered. “Close the shutters.”
Her hands stilled. She crossed the room slowly and latched the windows, dimming the pale morning light. When she turned back, worry carved deep shadows under her eyes.
“What is it?”
I gripped the chair to hold myself upright. “I need to know if there is a mixture strong enough to end this pregnancy.”
Silence fell so suddenly it felt like a slap.
Elowen’s face went still. No shock. No gasp. Only the flicker of something deep and wounded in her eyes. For a moment, I caught disappointment, as if I ruined her expectations known by no one but her.
“Seraphine…” Her voice cracked. “You cannot mean that.”
“I do,” I said. “I need you to tell me if it exists.”
She set the mortar aside with trembling hands. “Yes, it exists. Pennyroyal. Rue. Blackthorn bark. Taken together, they are… powerful. Too powerful. They can stop a pregnancy, yes, but they can stop a heartbeat just as easily.”
“I would rather risk death,” I whispered, “than give Aldric a child he can use as a weapon.”
Elowen flinched as if struck. “Sera… this is no small choice.”
“It’s the only choice,” I said, firmer than before. “If the king learns I carry his heir, he will take the child from me. Raise it to worship him and shape it into another blade in his arsenal. This child won’t be mine. It will be his final victory over Eryndale.”
Elowen’s jaw trembled. She looked away, blinking quickly. “You ask me to place poison in your hands,” she murmured.
“I ask you to help me protect something fragile from a man who destroys everything he touches.”
Silence stretched between us. Then she reached into her basket and drew out a small, dark-wrapped bundle tied with a single knot. She set it on the table between us with a shaking hand.
The moment it touched the wood, I felt the weight of the decision settle like a stone on my ribs.
“You must boil it strong,” she whispered. “Drink it warm. It will hurt. It may work. It may not. And if the bleeding doesn’t stop—”
“I understand.”
She didn’t believe me, but she nodded.
“To avoid suspicion, you must visit the healer’s wing,” she said after a moment, her voice shifting to something businesslike. “Ask for remedies for insomnia. I’ll correct the records—no trace of missed cycles, no sign of illness.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. My throat tightened. “Elowen… I know this is not fair to ask.”
“No, it isn’t.” Her eyes softened painfully. “But I know fear when I see it. And I know what Aldric is capable of.”
***
The healer’s wing was quiet when I arrived. Elowen had cleared half the staff on invented errands. A lone apprentice nearly dropped a jar as I walked in.
“Your Majesty! How may we—”
“Insomnia,” I said quickly. “I need something mild.”
He relaxed instantly and hurried to measure a draught. Elowen passed by in the corridor, a ledger in hand, giving me the smallest nod. Everything handled; nothing suspicious.
I accepted the small bottle from the apprentice and turned—
Straight into Aldric.
My heart slammed against my ribs. He lifted a hand, and the guards behind him stepped back, granting us privacy.
“Seraphine,” he said. Neither gentle, nor cruel. Something in-between. “You look pale.”
“Lack of sleep,” I replied, lifting the bottle slightly. “Nightmares.”
His gaze searched my face, lingering on the tension in my jaw. “You lie poorly,” he said softly.
“I am not lying,” I said. “Nightmares of Eryndale never leave.”
Something flickered in his eyes: guilt, irritation, or maybe longing. I could never read him fully.
“I hope the herbs help,” he said finally. “You are one of the few in this palace who still speaks to me honestly.”
The words struck harder than they should have. I stepped around him before he could peer deeper. His gaze followed me down the hall like a touch between my shoulder blades.
He suspects nothing. Not yet.
***
That night, I sat before the fire with the dark bundle laid open before me. The herbs smelled bitter, sharp enough to sting my eyes. A death-smell.
I brewed them slowly, watching the water darken to a shade like spoiled wine. When the cup was full, it steamed gently, deceptively harmless. I lifted it.
“If I drink this,” I whispered, “I’ll save you from him.”
My hand drifted to my abdomen. The life inside me felt impossibly small, impossibly present.
“If I don’t… he will take you. Bend you. Use you. And I can’t—” My voice cracked. “I can’t let that happen.”
But as I raised the cup, my fingers trembled violently. I couldn’t do it.
The cup slipped. It shattered against the stone, the dark brew spreading like a stain across the floor.
A sob tore from me, harsh and raw. I curled over my knees, hands pressed to my abdomen.
“I won’t kill you,” I whispered. “Not to save myself. Not to spite him. Not for anything.”
But I couldn’t save this child alone.
I needed help. Someone who would never betray me. Someone who knew me before I was a queen, before Aldric conquered my world.
Rowan.
My last piece of Eryndale. My loyal friend. And somehow, before Aldric discovered the truth inside me, I had to reach him.