But my mind whirls with words I vaguely remember fromthatmoment…
‘Behind ten siblings, I was never going to get the throne, mother.’
This business he’s dealing with, these ‘matters’ … are they to do with me? The throne? His abdication? Or is he garnering favours and deals to keep me and the child safe?
The queen has these answers but she gives none away with her sharp blue eyes, ones that steal me back to Daein and the first time he ever looked at me in the shadows of the farmhouse, the glass-blue blazing through the dark.
I’m rushed out of my thoughts as a quiet house slave—who I didn’t even realise was here, lurking in the corner—brings a cup of tea to me. She pushes it into my hands, then slips back to her station.
I watch her for a moment, my face blank.
“Everything…” My voice is wispy. “Everything makes no sense me,” I confess to the healer and the queen. “I feel … confused.”
“Yes, you will. Possibly forever,” the queen answers.
I blink at her. “What do you mean?”
She looks at the tea. “Drink.”
I do.
As I sip, she tells me, “You died during the birth. And to resurrect you, Daein was forced to bind you to him with ancient magick. Magick that only the iilra practice.” Her smile hardens. “We have less of them now.”
In all the muddled words I’m hearing, it takes me a moment to string them together into making any sense at all.
“He killed them?”
“Some.” Her face slackens into something almost proud. “Until they agreed to perform the ritual.” Her blue eyes harden on me, like icicles. I stiffen in response. “If you die, April, so does my son. Your lives are intertwined now. If you were to do anything at all to risk your life—risk my favourite son’s life—well…” A dark smile snakes onto her mouth. “A child for a child, yes?”
I gulp a mouthful of tea.
That, I understood. She’s being crystal clear, and I make no mistakes to upset her.
Setting aside the tea and saucer on the mattress, I nod, then look up at her. “I would do anything to keep my daughter safe. So if that means staying alive here, with him, then I’ll do it.”
I sense that her smile is false, as sincere as it looks. “I am glad we understand each other.” She gestures to my tea, forcing me to pick it back up. “It is for your recovery,” she tells me, then sighs something elegant and sweet. “Now, let us discuss this marriage—”
“Marriage?” I whisper.
“Well…” Her gaze drifts to my wrist. “Wedding, I suppose, since the marriage has been performed already.”
I blink at her for a beat before I shake my head and look at my wrist. The snaky mark of Daein’s house mars my skin in a pale burn-like scar. Almost looks like a narrowed number ‘8’ with arrowheads piercing it.
“When did this happen?”
Am I so confused that I don’t even remember my own marriage?
“Oh, you were deceased. You see, to entwine souls together in the ritual that saved your life, a sacrifice must be made. Daein married you—as per your wishes—and sacrificed his right to the throne. He will remain royal of course,” she adds sadly, “but he loses so much in choosing you.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “You are no princess of this realm. You are the wife of a former prince—now a duke. You have no status, no position, outside of my son’s. Your very life depends on him, and that of your child’s. She will never become an heir to the throne, nor be treated like the full-blood she should be. Am I clear, kinta?”
I nod, clammy hands clutching the teacup.
She looks down at it clenched in my hands. “Finish your tea, child.”
That’s all she says before she pushes up from the bed and floats out of the room. She leaves me with the healer and the silent slave in the corner.
My heart aches for my child again. Instead, I drink the rest of the tea while the healer does her checks, then I watch her leave. The slave doesn’t leave. I suspect she’s here to watch me, see if I fall ill or anything.