Chapter 32
Aedlin
Before Dother’s Death
Vomit dripped off Aedlin’s bottom lip and splashed in a puddle of her own sick, the foul liquid pooling in a bucket Rosemary clutched tightly in her hands.
Thank the gods for her swiftness. With each inhale, Aedlin’s nostrils burned, the sharp, sour aroma making her stomach turn all over again.
She held her breath, wiping her face with her sleeve and waiting for the feeling to pass.
“The king’s had his way again,” she muttered, the words so foul they were followed by a fresh wave of bile.
Damn the fucking Fates.
Aedlin heaved once more, warm droplets splashing in the pool of vomit and splattering on the trim of her off-white bodice. She panted, each breath heavy in her lungs while she waited for more. The churning in her gut refused to settle, but nothing came.
“I think it’s over,” she huffed, leaning back onto her pillows, a fluffy pile of silver and royal blue supporting her back.
Rosemary nodded and set the bucket down on Aedlin’s mahogany dresser before grabbing a cloth she’d left on the nightstand. “This should help,” she said, soaking it in a bowl of cold water.
They’d grown closer since Mora’s disappearance—Rosemary’s sadness a close enough mirror that Aedlin felt seen. She couldn’t stand the fake platitudes from her previous ladies, their only honest expressions the ones of disdain they’d shown when she’d dismissed them.
When Rosemary ran the cold cloth over Aedlin’s forehead, the queen exhaled deeply, despite the burning ache in her throat. “I’m with child.” The words were so heavy, speaking them couldn’t free her from their repercussions—if anything, they shackled her further.
Rosemary’s hand stilled, a cool drop of water dripping over Aedlin’s forehead to soak into her light brown hair. She was certain she looked as awful as she felt. Was it too late in the evening to request a bath?
“Would you like me to fetch something to soothe your stomach?” Rosemary asked, pulling away. She busied her hands, dipping the cloth back in the bowl and wringing it out, the splashing dribble filling a long silence.
Aedlin didn’t know what she wanted. Or, at least, what she wanted was an impossible thing.
Tipping her head to the side, she looked at the empty space on her bed, where Kalyan should have been. Mora had always been enough for them, but if this were his baby...
The queen squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the tightness cinching around her heart.
Kalyan was gone, his scent washed from their sheets, his voice rarely a haunting whisper in her mind.
All that remained was the gray lounge chair across from her bed, his sweater still hanging from the armrest. Sometimes she held it so tightly she could almost imagine being enveloped in him...
Other nights she was afraid to touch it, as if she would tarnish what little was left.
“What will I tell Mora?” she whispered, cradling her head in her hands.
... Would Aedlin have the chance to tell her?
The pitying look on Rosemary’s face nearly drove Aedlin mad. “I don’t think she’s coming back,” Rosemary said softly.
Swallowing past the lump in her tender throat, Aedlin forced herself to say the words she dreaded most. “What if someone took her? What if she’s—” A sob rattled in her chest, slipping free before Aedlin could force it back down.
She clamped her mouth shut, gritting her teeth until a throbbing pain emanated from her jaw, pounding in her cheeks.
If she allowed her grief to flow freely through the growing cracks in her soul, Aedlin knew it would never stop—she’d drown in it.
“We don’t know that,” Rosemary offered, the bed dipping as she sat by Aedlin’s side. “Sometimes I wonder if she ran to Eldenna to start a new life.”
A life free from the burdens of the Crown, Aedlin thought, wondering if Mora and Philip had found one another. She wouldn’t put it past the guard to continue his search on the mainland. That sweet man. He deserved so much more than what Dother had done... What she’d allowed him to do.
Perhaps...
She tangled her fingers in the white lace canopy she’d taken from Mora’s room, running her thumb over the tiny white flowers gracing its soft trim.
“Maybe I should write to Philip?” For the first time since Harvest, a tiny kernel of hope sparked in the confines of Aedlin’s shattered heart, the warm ember too tempting not to cling to.
“I beg your pardon?” Rosemary asked, her brows drawing together when the queen stood so swiftly a pillow followed, slipping over the side of the bed to plop on the floor.
“What if she did go to Eldenna?” Aedlin muttered, pacing around her room like she had night after night since Mora disappeared, a path already worn into her plush, gray rug. “If we can contact Philip, we could extend our search.”
“May I speak my mind, Your Majesty?”
The queen stilled. “Yes, Rosemary, speak freely.”
Her hands bunched in her buttery yellow dress, chestnut brown eyes wary.
“With all due respect, what the king did to Philip was cruel. The man devoted his life to the Crown—to Mora—and banishing him to the mainland was his thanks? To find him simply so he can serve you once again... it doesn’t seem right. ”
With a sigh, Aedlin dipped her head in agreement. Rosemary was right, pulling Philip back into this mess was indeed cruel... but there was nothing Aedlin wouldn’t do to bring Mora home.
“We should at least make sure he’s well and send him compensation for everything he’s sacrificed in the name of the Crown,” she offered—Rosemary needn’t know she intended to ask for his aid.
Tension bled from the lady-in-waiting’s shoulders, a small smile gracing her pink cheeks. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.” When she stood, she offered the queen a deep curtsy. “I’ll be back shortly with some ginger tea,” she declared, gathering the bucket and making for the door.
Aedlin’s throat bobbed, but she managed to keep her face serene—there was a time when Kalyan made her tea, his vast knowledge of herbs an incredible, powerful thing. When she was pregnant with Mora, he’d doted on her, bringing her so many concoctions to soothe her stomach...
How could someone’s absence be so stifling? The quiet he’d left behind surrounded her, constantly pressing against her skin until she wondered how she managed to breathe.
Aedlin cleared her throat, careful to hide the pain from her face. “Rosemary?”
“Yes?” she asked, hesitating at the door.
“Have someone call for the king,” she demanded on her way to the armoire.
“Once I’m decent, I’ll meet him in my sitting room.
” Throwing the doors open, she searched through her gowns, her hand drifting to her stomach.
Fingers curling as if she could claw Dother’s seedling from her womb. But what choice did Aedlin have?
“Yes, Your Majesty, I’ll speak with his personal guards. Though, I know they’ve been instructed not to bother him at night.”
Aedlin’s spine straightened, heat coursing through her veins. “Who is the Crown of Berwick?”
Rosemary paled at the low, authoritative dip of Aedlin’s voice. “You are, my queen.”
A royal blue dress with silver thread sparkling in the bodice caught Aedlin’s eye.
It was the perfect statement. A reminder, to herself and Dother, as to who ruled over the Crown.
“Be sure his personal guards know I am the Althenis bloodline. It is my word that directs them. My demands they need to fulfill. The king wears his crown because I allowed it, and I do not care for his preferences; when I request an audience, he will answer.”
“Yes, my queen.” Rosemary dipped her head in the shadow of a bow. The closest she could manage with her hands full—neither of them wanted the contents of the pail spilled on the floor.
Nerves danced in Aedlin’s belly as she watched Rosemary saunter through the door, the queen half tempted to call her back.
Once Dother knew about his child, everything would change... She could only pray Mora returned to witness whatever came next.