Chapter 68 #2
The queen sighed inwardly but plastered on a placid smile and turned back to her intended companion. Her grin faltered when she took in the woman’s pallor—her skin was ashen, beads of sweat trickling down her cheeks, strings of black hair plastered to her brow.
“What’s wrong?” Aedlin asked, a slight waver to her voice, her throat suddenly tight.
In a blink, she saw him. Her love. Kalyan staring up at her, brown eyes pooling with panic, color draining from his face. His final breaths on his lips.
Her heart stalled, air catching in her lungs—Aedlin couldn’t take another breath. Could hardly swallow, her saliva somehow too thick.
The lady dropped her teacup, porcelain clattering on the table.
Dark drops of tea spattered on the wooden top, bits splashing into the breadbasket at its center and seeping into the butter crock.
Some landed on Aedlin’s fingers, the dark, warm liquid singeing her skin.
The stinging ache quieting the memories of Kalyan dying in this very room.
“What do you need?” Aedlin asked, managing to maintain a steady voice.
Lord Austeria turned in his chair, placing a hand on his wife’s forearm. “Dewdrop, what’s wrong?” His thumb made two comforting swipes before he stilled. “No! No, please Gods, no.”
“Call for a healer!” Aedlin shouted, squeezing her fists to hide the tremors, the motion pulling at the healing wound left by her broken quill. She stood swiftly, her chair nearly toppling over if not for Dother’s quick reflexes.
That was when she saw it.
So.
Much.
Blood.
A scream echoed through the dining hall, rising like a horrific tide and swallowing all other sounds.
The room grew hushed, people turning in their seats to watch while Lady Austeria pressed her hands to her stomach, her breaths shuddering.
Crimson seeping into the plum material of her gown until it was nearly black, coating her lap and trickling onto the floor.
Each drop was so damned loud.
Another agonizing cry broke free, and her husband’s russet eyes grew frantic.
He knew as well as Aedlin, it was too early—they were watching their wanted, loved babe die in the womb, powerless to stop it.
All they could do was hope Lady Austeria survived.
That the God of Death wouldn’t claim two lives this day.
Someone rushed to the lady’s side. A healer. The same woman who’d come to help Kalyan moments too late. Her thick, gray hair was tied into a loose bun atop her head, a worried crease wrinkling her brow. She laid a hand on Lady Austeria’s forehead, whispering questions.
Perhaps they weren’t whispers; it was possible Aedlin couldn’t hear anything over her own roaring pulse. All she could see was her husband, slouched in his chair. Gone.
Dother’s hand pressed on her lower back, the warmth bleeding into Aedlin’s skin, and she tensed. Frozen. Unable to flinch away. He leaned closer, his low voice invading her ears, “Let’s get you back to your rooms.”
“What about—”
“The healer is here, we are not needed,” he said, face solemn. Those unsettling eyes, however, betrayed him.
Dother felt nothing.
“What if she doesn’t make it?” Aedlin breathed as he put enough force on her back to make her move.
“I will make sure you’re informed.” He guided her past the growing crowd and into the hallway, his fingers gripping her dress so tightly they dug into her skin.
“Dother, you’re hurting me,” Aedlin hissed.
His grip didn’t ease. “King Dother.”
“I will show you respect when you grant me the same courtesy.”
He scoffed, turning them toward an alcove leading to the stairwell, the sconces casting eerie shadows on the walls. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he muttered, shoving her up the first stair.
“What?” Aedlin nearly tripped on the royal blue runner, her shoes slipping on the hard floor—she couldn’t keep up. “Slow down, you brute.”
He didn’t utter another word, keeping his brisk pace, practically dragging her up the stairs and through the halls until they neared the royal apartments.
Paintings of her family, of her old life, hung on the wall, a pang of grief tearing through her rage.
Peeling it from her heart until nothing shielded her from the pain.
Kalyan and Mora stared down at her, their smiling faces so full of joy. Of hope.
Even Aedlin looked different.
Perhaps she was.
Perhaps that life was simply a dream.
When they reached her rooms, a guard greeted them, blocking most of her door from view.
The entrance to her chambers featured a painstakingly carved tree whose roots and branches curled toward one another, creating an intricate weave.
A design Kalyan requested after a rather gripping dream.
She wanted to demand the guard move, but knew he’d only listen to Dother—his brown eyes were trained on the floor, the useless man dutifully waiting for the king’s command.
Something silver glinted in his fist... a key.
Aedlin felt the world tilt and wondered, briefly, if she might faint. “Dother, what’s happening?”
He paid her no mind, looking to his guard instead. “Open the door.”
The man nodded, strands of black hair tickling his brow.
He kept his head down when he turned to fiddle with a lock that hadn’t been there before.
It was then she noticed the chips of wood littering the carpet and the silver bar resting on brackets they’d nailed into her door.
Defacing it. Securing it with the new lock.
A lock that would trap her inside.
The guard’s lips pressed into a flat line and he spared the queen a single glance, deep brown eyes wide and wary. He hesitated for a breath and Aedlin wondered if he’d protest. If he’d do anything to attempt to stop this madness. Instead, he looked away, turning the key and lifting the bar.
Aedlin jerked while the door creaked open, feet digging into the carpet, but Dother urged her forward.
“I am your queen!” she shouted, spinning in his grip and slamming her fists into his chest. Her knuckles met a firm wall of muscle, an ache spreading through her fingers, but it didn’t stop her from struggling against his hold and hitting him over and over again. “Let me go!
When her fist connected with his face, Dother’s head snapped back.
He released her dress and grabbed her wrists, squeezing until her hands spasmed, fingers unfurling involuntarily.
Pain pulsed beneath his hold, but Aedlin kept struggling, screaming at the bastard to let her go.
Where were Ezra and the other guards? Surely some of them still respected their queen.
“You’re so much like her,” Dother muttered, shoving her over the threshold.
The plush carpet caught beneath her feet and Aedlin stumbled, her shoulder slamming against the floor. She righted herself quickly, pushing up on her knees. “So much like who?” she snarled, amber clashing with azure. “Like Mora?”
The king towered over her. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone like ice, fingers slowly trailing over the flask on his hip. He blocked the doorway, his chosen guard at his back.