[Rowan’s POV]
The air in the queen’s wing felt different: too warm, too still, thick with boiled linens and sharp herbs. Even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.
Elowen had warned me in a whisper that morning, hidden beneath a stairwell where no one listened.
“It will be soon,” she’d said. “Days, Rowan. Maybe less.”
But our plan… Seraphine was supposed to go into labor after we slipped her out tomorrow night, and I, sworn to her since childhood, would take her newborn and flee under moonlight. A laundry cart, the lower postern, a horse waiting in the woods. I’d promised her I’d keep the child safe or die trying.
We just needed one more night.
I headed toward her chambers, avoiding the busy main corridor and slipping into a servants’ passage. That was when I heard them.
“…told you all I can,” Elowen’s voice.
I froze.
Another voice answered—male, rough, borderland vowels. “Three days’ march from the river, then?”
“Aldric won’t delay,” she said. “He’ll push his men hard.”
“And the queen?”
“Fading,” Elowen whispered. “The childbirth may take everything she has.”
My grip tightened on my sword hilt.
“The night we agreed upon?” he asked.
“It hasn’t changed.” He slipped down the stairs.
I exhaled slowly, stepping forward with enough noise to be heard.
“Elowen.”
She jumped, then composed herself. “You walk like a ghost.”
“Comes with the job.” I kept my voice neutral. “How is she?”
“Tired. Always tired now.” Elowen’s expression softened. “But strong. Stronger than anyone should be.”
“Do you need anything from me?”
“Yes,” she said. “Don’t leave this floor. Not tonight.”
“I won’t.”
She pushed past me, heading toward Seraphine’s rooms. But it was the moment our plans were ruined.
***
The stable looked like a battlefield of its own: cloths stacked high, basins waiting, and candles clustered everywhere. The air smelled of straw and steam.
Seraphine lay propped on pillows, one hand resting on the great curve of her belly. When she opened her eyes and saw me, exhaustion softened into a smile. “Rowan.”
“You shouldn’t be standing,” I said automatically.
“You sound like Elowen. Sit before you start lecturing.”
I sank beside her. Even exhausted, she held herself with a queen’s stubborn grace. She always had. Everything in me tightened.
“Are you in pain?”
“Practice pains,” she murmured. Her breathing hitched before smoothing again.
We needed distraction, anything other than the truth we were both avoiding.
“Remember the laurel hedge in the south garden?” I asked. “Where we hid with stolen bread?”
“You stepped on a bee.”
“Attacked me,” I corrected.
“You screamed like you’d been skewered.” Her smile flickered. “My father nearly mobilized the guard.”
For a moment, the room felt warmer. But another pain took her. She clenched the blanket, eyes squeezed shut. When it passed, she whispered, “Rowan… if I don’t—”
“Stop.” My voice came out harder than I meant. “Don’t say it.”
“You can’t silence danger by refusing the words.”
“You’re not dying,” I insisted. “Not today. Not like this.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise one thing.” My throat tightened. “If this world exists without you, I don’t want to be in it.”
She looked at me then—really looked—and there was no sense in holding the truth back anymore.
“I love you,” I said.
The words hung between us, heavy and irrevocable. I’d buried them for years—she’d been a princess, then a prisoner-queen, and I’d refused to become another chain around her neck.
Her eyes widened. “Rowan…”
“I’ve loved you since before the war,” I said quietly. “Before Aldric. Before any of this. And I didn’t say it because you were never free to choose anything—not your life, not your husband, not even your safety. I would not add my desires to your burdens.”
Her lips parted, trembling. “You shouldn’t—”
“We planned to send your child away,” I continued. “You entrusted me with that. You trusted me with your last hope. I need to say it once, before everything changes.”
Her eyes softened with something painful. “Rowan… I can’t return that.”
“I know.”
“You are my friend. My shield. My last piece of home,” she whispered. “But my heart… it isn’t yours.”
The pain was sharp, but clean. I nodded. “You don’t owe me anything. Least of all love.”
She squeezed my hand. “Thank you. For staying. For risking everything for a child that isn’t yours.”
“I’d risk the world for you,” I said. The knock from the sitting room was sharp. Urgent.
“Rowan?” Elowen called. “I need you.”
Seraphine released my hand. “Go. Help her.”
Elowen was laying out cloths, vials, bowls—her movements sharp with fear.
“Close the shutters,” she said. “Light every candle. And listen: no one enters here tonight. Not a servant. Not a guard. Not anyone.”
“We weren’t supposed to leave until tomorrow.” I hissed.
“It turned,” she said. “Her contractions changed an hour ago. They’re strong, fast. Rowan… the baby’s coming now. Why the hell do you think we’re already here, not in the castle? The plan was to do it with no other eyes in the corridors, no?”
Cold panic crawled up my spine. I didn’t expect everything to happen so fast.
“She’s been fighting them half the night,” Elowen whispered. “She didn’t tell you because she didn’t want to ruin the plan. But we’re out of time.”
“If anyone hears her,” I said, “or sees the blood—”
“Yes,” Elowen snapped. “So bar the door. Quickly.”
My mind raced. The laundry cart wouldn’t be waiting. The postern gate wouldn’t be ready. The king was marching home. And somewhere in these walls, Elowen had allies—dangerous ones—who expected to move tonight.
Everything was collapsing at once. I shoved the bolt across the door, sealing us in.
A chill ran through me. I thought of the man in leathers. Of Elowen’s whispered plans. Of Aldric’s banners drawing closer with each hour.
I turned toward Seraphine. She laid fighting for breath, knowing that before dawn either everything would change…
Or everything would shatter.