Chapter 26 #2
My brush flew across the canvas, wandering without intent. My mind drifted in the bustle of the day, my hand moving on its own. What I painted was familiar, so ingrained into my soul I could have done it blindfolded.
The thought of dinner turned my stomach. I frowned. It wasn’t the nobles. Kallias made it clear I had nothing to fear from them. I just wasn’t hungry.
With a sigh, I cleaned my brush, taking care not to end the night streaked in paint again. While my dear husband manufactured excuses for me, I knew the nobles waited far too long before we finally joined them the night before.
The painting began to take shape. Forms settled where they belonged, details waiting to be drawn out. I refused to rush it, fighting the urge to finish before the wedding. The gift would come later—once he returned safely from disposing of Tallon.
“Your Majesty?” Freya’s voice cut through the quiet as the door creaked open.
I glanced toward the window. The sky had darkened. Hungry or not, duty waited. Radaan needed to see her queen. Consistency. Faithfulness. Those proved stronger than any promise.
Once the paint lids were secured and the brushes clean, I rose. A servant could have handled it, but the simple, repetitive task brought me peace. Not everything had to be passed to staff.
We entered our chambers where Edith had already laid out my dress. Kallias sat at a small table in his receiving room with Greaves, both bent over a map. He glanced up as Freya closed the door, a familiar smile flickering across his face before he returned to the discussion.
The dress was pale blue, like a warm summer sky. Gold edging softened it, warm and delicate. I scowled at the high collar. It hid the bandage, but it chafed.
“Please bring something with a lower neckline,” I said as I passed into the bathing chamber.
She curtsied without comment, clearly having reasons of her own.
The woman staring back from the mirror wore a smear of green paint across her cheek, but nothing more. I frowned, scrubbing it away with a rag. It must have happened while painting the tree. I had no memory of fumbling the brush.
I washed my face and hands before returning to the dressing room. Kallias had joined me, straightening his things before we presented ourselves.
“Did your fitting go smoothly?” I asked, studying the dark blue gown Edith set out. Fabric gathered over one shoulder, leaving the other bare.
Of course it would cover my bandage.
“Only needs some minor alterations,” he said.
Greaves caught his scoff, choking on a coughing laugh. I spun, expression contorted with mocking disbelief. He thumped his fist against his chest and shook his head.
“Mind that cough, or you’ll find yourself with the healer,” Kallias warned, fixing him with a glare before turning a teasing smile on me. “It had to be let out, and he finds it endlessly amusing.”
“Oh, so did mine,” I reassured with a laugh.
Shock crossed his face. Real fear. Gone so quickly I blinked—then frowned, searching his expression. The easy grin had returned as he adjusted the collar of his overcoat.
“Bodies change. It doesn’t mean I’m growing lax,” he muttered, eyes cutting toward Greaves.
I must have imagined it. Why would my dress needing alteration unsettle him? Weight gain? Radaan’s tables overflowed. My home survived on fish and thin broths. Here, meals swam in fat and gravy. It was only natural.
Exhaustion clouded my thoughts. Rest would come after the wedding—after Tallon. Then I would sleep for an entire day. Nothing short of dragonfire consuming the Golden Palace would rouse me from my bed.
“Obviously not.” I sniffed, casting Greaves a sideways look.
He scoffed and adjusted his bandolier.
The men withdrew while I changed. Edith secured the dress at my nape. Fabric fell in soft folds, washing over me like waves against the shore. My hand rested on my stomach, already imagining the Radaanian feast that awaited tonight.
A savory root vegetable soup, followed by a plate of fresh greens. Then came the meat. Beef slathered in—my skin flushed hot as nausea surged.
My breath hitched, and I braced myself against the dresser.
Edith caught my arm, steadying me. “Your Majesty?”
I clapped a hand over my mouth, forcing the thoughts back. My palms slicked with sweat. My heart skidded, then raced as I gathered slow breaths.
Then the wave passed.
I met my handmaid’s gaze, eyes wide. No, it couldn’t be.
The urge to flee, to bolt the door, clawed at me. Instead, I seized Edith’s hand and dragged her into the far corner.
“When was my last cycle?” I wanted to scream, but my words barely carried.
Color drained from her face, pupils tightening. “I would need to check.”
“Do not toy with me,” I hissed, fingers biting into her arm as my gaze flicked past her shoulder. “How late am I?”
Dates scattered through my thoughts. Too much had happened. Time bent under all the chaos, drowned by war and ceremony. But Edith would know. She always knew. It was her job to keep track.
“A week.”
My knees buckled.
“Nienna!” She lunged, twisting us toward the door.
“No.” I grabbed her arms, shaking her as I hauled myself upright. “No, Edith. If you breathe a word of this to him, I will banish you.”
Her jaw fell open, and she recoiled, stunned.
“I mean it.” A hand pressed to my chest as I fought to slow the pounding beneath my dress.
“It could be nothing,” she whispered. “Times like these—they’re unsettling. A woman’s body is a fickle thing.”
Disbelief sharpened my stare. “When have I ever been more than two days late?”
“You’ve never saved a kingdom from civil war either, Your Majesty.”
Excitement trembled through my fingers, but I forced them still. Dragons above, I couldn’t let him know. Not yet. Not without certainty. The hope of an heir, dangled and then ripped away, would carve him hollow. He did not deserve that cruelty.
His mind already carried too much. A wedding. War plans. Tallon. He’d be far too preoccupied to worry himself over my cycle.
I shook out my hands and closed my eyes. Slow breaths. Calm. Kallias might not track my days, but he would sense any unease. I had to look composed. Untroubled. Not like a woman who could be carrying Radaan’s heir.
How absurd, how unbelievable would it be to carry his child? After years spent trying for a babe with his previous wife—may her name be forever cursed—and no doubt tracking her fertile cycles, it felt unfathomable that I could be pregnant within the first month.
“Are you well, Your Majesty?” Edith’s careful tone slipped through the haze.
I tore my thoughts away, anchoring myself in the present. Dinner loomed, and nausea might follow. I needed a plan.
“Fetch the mint perfume.” In Draconia, the scent calmed a roiling stomach.
I was a queen entrusted with treaties and nations’ secrets.
Keeping one from my husband should be simple.