Chapter 43 #2
She hesitated, the room’s quiet a horrific thing.
Finally, they listened, all eyes trained on their queen.
Too many eyes. The weight of their collective stare pushing against her windpipe until her breath could hardly pass through her lungs.
Only Falcrest showed any care—Dother’s heir had yet to be born, and already the child replaced their sister. The Council saw no reason for concern.
A tear spilled down her cheek.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, rushing to the door before she lost herself completely.
Dother sighed. “Forgive her. The pregnancy has affected her sensibilities.”
Heat brewed beneath Aedlin’s skin when the nobles laughed, goblets clinking in cheers while they mocked her.
She stayed too long, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
Eyes burning. Fists balled so tight her knuckles ached.
Had she left the Council Room, or was it a tavern disguised by a castle veneer?
This was how they saw their queen. Unworthy. Incapable. Little more than a vessel for future rulers. Aedlin knew they disliked her, knew their fury over the Laws would never be sated, but this...
She could birth their heirs, but without a cock between her own gods damned legs they would never see her as deserving of the crown.
It had always been this way. Aedlin simply hadn’t wanted to face it, stubbornly clinging to the idea she could play by their rules and prove herself. Even if they forced her to do so with a man by her side.
Instead, she’d handed the crown to one they saw as more than she could ever be.
Candlelight flickered along the wall sconces, flames swaying as Aedlin stormed past. The hour was late, most of the castle fast asleep while their queen marched through the halls, her dress’s long skirt dragging behind her.
It was foolish, leaving her room in her night clothes, but her mind wouldn’t quiet and she couldn’t bring herself to call for Rosemary at such an ungodly hour.
What good was protecting her dignity when the Council had proven she didn’t have any to begin with?
Aedlin kept her head down when she passed a large portrait, unable to witness her family’s joyful faces. With Kalyan’s ashes long since scattered in Darford River and Mora... gone, it was merely a reminder of everything Aedlin had lost. A mockery from the Fates.
Don’t show a shred of grief, she told herself, clenching her jaw tight, as if a cage of teeth could keep her pain at bay. She had to maintain her composure. Had to make sure Dother understood his place; how dare he reduce her to little more than a broodmare in the Council’s eyes!
As she neared the curve in the hall leading to his quarters, the décor became brighter.
The castle more alive, graced with remnants of a Yule she’d forgotten to acknowledge.
Bunches of carefully crafted evergreen garlands hung from the walls, a brilliant array of forest-green with specks of vibrant, red holly poking between the boughs.
The sweet, earthy scents of fir, cedar, and pine curling around her in an inviting embrace.
She moved through it like a ghost, her face like stone.
What reason was there to celebrate? With Mora gone, how could they feast? How could they weave tales around the fire and find the will to dance?
At least they knew better than to decorate near her rooms.
“My queen,” a King’s Guard declared as she approached Dother’s door, color draining from his face.
Dark eyes growing wide. She recognized him from the throne room—he was the one who’d been hesitant to take Philip away.
His throat bobbed before he bowed awkwardly, the guard behind him quickly following suit, moving with practiced grace.
“Majesty,” the fairer one mumbled, pushing his hair away from his face, a stubborn curl refusing to budge. “What do you need at this hour?”
“I’ve come to speak with the king.”
They exchanged a look, the dark-eyed one running his hands down his royal blue tunic, smoothing wrinkles that weren’t there.
A twinge of red bloomed beneath freckled cheeks, but the second guard held Aedlin’s stare. Voice unwavering. “The king has asked not to be disturbed.”
Aedlin stiffened. How confident he was, denying his queen. “I’ve told you to fetch him.”
“We’ve been given orders not to bother the king once he’s retired for the night.”
“I command it,” she seethed. “I am the crown of Berwick, it is my word that rules these lands. My voice that drives your actions.”
They nodded but made no move to fetch Dother.
Aedlin gritted her teeth so hard she wondered if they’d crack, pain throbbing in her jaw. “If you will not retrieve him, I will.”
She pushed past them, but before she could wrap her fingers around the silver doorknob, a hand closed around her wrist. “You will not disturb the king.”
“How dare you!” Aedlin jerked her arm away. “You will pay for touching me so readily.”
The timid guard grimaced, deep brown eyes full of regret. “Apologies, Your Majesty, we’ve been given strict orders.”
“I am your queen.”
“Yes,” he breathed, gaze drifting to his polished leather boots. “But he is our king.”
The words hit her like a blow, shattering her resolve.
Aedlin stood stock-still, mouth agape, staring at guards who refused her orders because they’d decided the king’s word usurped her own.
She didn’t remember the walk back to her rooms. Couldn’t recall crawling into her bed, Kalyan’s sweater clutched in her arms, his warm, woodsy scent wrapping her in a soothing embrace.
As she stared up at Mora’s canopy, she knew one thing for certain.
Aedlin was no longer the Crown of Berwick.