Chapter 68
Aedlin
Before Dother’s Death
“What’s taking so long?” Aedlin whispered, watching as the last dregs of light were torn from the sky. The moon stared down at the sinking sun, glowing triumphantly, while the stars marched across the horizon like soldiers, pulling a curtain of infinite darkness. Marking the heavens as their own.
Rosemary was somewhere out there, procuring a tea to put an end to Dother’s heir—Aedlin prayed she was close. That the things she needed were easily found.
The door to her rooms creaked open, the sharp sound tearing her gaze away from the window. Aedlin stood from her writing desk, rushing from her bedroom to the sitting room.
“Rosemary, did you—”
Azure glittered down at her, the smirk on Dother’s face growing wider when Aedlin stopped abruptly, her hand falling to the arm of her silver chaise. She needed something to anchor her. To help keep her steady.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, wife,” Dother said, spitting out the final word like it had soiled his tongue.
Aedlin noted the way his upper lip curled, how his fingers squeezed the neck of his flask until they were bone white.
Onyx mist flecked with glints of gold, not unlike the endless night sky, flinched away from his touch, pooling on the other side of the glass.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer queen or Your Majesty,” she said coolly, carefully schooling her features. She pushed away from the chair, clasping her hands at her front. Praying the mask she wore didn’t shatter. “We both know this isn’t a love match.”
Huffing a laugh through his nose, Dother nodded.
“That we do.” That blinding gaze crawled over Aedlin’s skin until it reached her stomach, an odd mixture of disgust and joy flittering across his face.
“I thought I’d accompany you to the dining hall.
It’s nearly dinner and my growing son needs sustenance.
” He stepped closer, moving over pristine white tiles to stand in front of her.
Nausea churned in her gut at his nearness, the overwhelming scent of citrus nearly making her gag. All she could manage in response was the dip of her chin.
The king straightened his cream-colored dinner jacket, golden buttons sparkling in the candlelight, the shades eerily close to Aedlin’s dress.
Off-white fabric interwoven with golden thread that gleamed whenever she moved hugged her bust before falling into a loose skirt, hiding her small bump.
They matched. Every bit the king and queen Berwick’s Noble Council wanted.
Dother’s grin grew wolfish. “It’s a good thing I ran into that lady-in-waiting you’ve been so fond of lately. I had her tell me what you’re wearing.” He played with a button, pursing his lips. “Remind me, what was her name again?”
A jolt of cold careened up Aedlin’s spine.
What game was he playing? Dother never came to see her, rarely accompanied her anywhere, unless they were meeting with the Council, and he most certainly made no attempt to look like a doting husband.
“Rosemary,” she finally offered, watching for any hint of his intentions.
“Ah, yes, Rosemary.” Strands of chocolate brown hair fell over his brow when he bowed his head, his voice wavering. “I remember Mora adored her.”
It was as if he’d plunged a blade in Aedlin’s heart—a sharp ache bled through her, clawing its way to the surface until it was all she knew. She wanted to slam her fists into Dother’s chest and shriek, demanding he tell her what he’d done.
Instead, Aedlin smiled sadly, her teeth firmly pressed together to dam her rage and still her tongue... for now.
Clearing his throat, Dother offered his arm. “I’ve invited Lord and Lady Austeria from Syldith to join us. The lady is expecting, so I imagine she’ll be good company for you while I discuss lumber trade with the lord.”
A muscle twitched in Aedlin’s cheek, but she slipped her palm onto his forearm and followed Dother into the hall.
“I am more than capable of discussing matters of trade,” she said, lifting her chin, ignoring Dother’s King’s Guards, the same brutes who had refused her command a month prior, standing at attention in the hall.
Aedlin was a queen, not a broodmare. It was time Dother, his guards, and the Council remembered.
“Your Majesty, may I request your staff bring me more pickled ginger?” Lady Austeria asked, a lovely pink flush painting her alabaster cheeks.
Aedlin pushed the string beans around her plate with her silver fork, nose curling. The gamey scent of braised lamb was too much for her queasy stomach—she had half a mind to ask someone to bring her a bucket, just in case.
“You may, my lady,” she said, offering a polite smile.
The woman smiled back, her hand resting on her round belly, her plum-colored gown cinched high on her ribs to display the growing babe. “I’d also love more of this tea,” she added, pointing to an empty cup. “It’s quite pleasant.”
Aedlin hummed in response, hoping Lady Austeria had the wherewithal to flag someone down on her own.
She reached for her own ceramic teacup, the vessel a piece of art.
Royal blue and silver blending together in a stunning abstract, an antique her family brought with them from Eldenna centuries past. Steam rose from the liquid, tickling Aedlin’s nose as she gently tipped it back and took a sip, an intense, soothing flavor curling on her tongue.
The rich, earthy taste a balm to her sour stomach.
While Kalyan had preferred a mountain of sugar and too many splashes of milk in his tea, Aedlin found it was perfect all on its own.
Resting her drink gently on the table, Aedlin reclaimed her fork, wishing she could take a bite of lamb. Wondering if they’d braised it in tea. She was too nauseated—too nervous—to eat, but holding her cutlery gave her something to do with her hands. Steeling some of her nerves.
“Congratulations, once again, on the news of your pregnancy,” Lady Austeria declared, pausing to catch her breath, her little one likely pressing against her lungs. “It must be a relief to the Crown, knowing there’s an heir after—”
Aedlin cut her off with a darkened stare. “Still your tongue.”
The lady inhaled sharply. “Apologies,” she mumbled, pressing a hand to her lips as if she could somehow force the words back.
With a quick nod, Aedlin moved her focus to Dother and Lord Austeria, hoping to save herself from mind-numbing prattle, and the reminder people saw Mora as simply an heir to the throne.
Something easily replaced. One more word on the matter and the thin tether of her sanity would snap, a swell of threats and curses sure to slip free.
“I’ve spoken with Lord and Lady Halvard in Baith,” Lord Austeria said to Dother, cutting his lamb into small, bite-sized pieces.
He glanced around the room, carefully assessing the other tables to see if anyone listened, then leaned closer.
His voice low. “They wish to expand the city. With Your Majesty’s permission, I’d like to raise our lumber quota to accommodate them.
” Leaning back in his chair, the lord watched the king while he brought his fork to his lips.
Aedlin turned in her seat, cringing inwardly when Dother’s citrusy musk crowded her lungs. How had she once found it pleasant? Now... the lamb’s gamey aroma was preferable. “Why is this the first I’ve heard of these plans?”
Something flared in Dother’s eyes, but he didn’t acknowledge Aedlin’s question. “I’ve already denied their request, Lord Austeria. They are too near the Forbidden Forest—it wouldn’t be safe.”
Heat flooded Aedlin’s veins, boiling her blood until she was certain steam crawled from her pores.
How many decisions was Dother making without her input?
He was right—the Forbidden Forest loomed near Baith, cut by a river that flowed into the village from the west. They could never touch that wall of ominous trees, wouldn’t dare approach them, lest they invite the wrath of the forest itself and the creatures hiding within its embrace. However...
“If the village has grown too large, they could expand northward and to the east, avoiding the woods.” She straightened, adjusting her posture and lifting her chin.
Making certain the lord across the table saw a queen.
“We can discuss this with the Council and examine the map before we finalize our decision.”
Dother cut her a glance, his features hardening. “I said no.” His jaw worked, a divot forming beneath his cheekbone.
Why was he so adamant about Baith?
Smoothing her hands on the buttery soft fabric of her gown, Aedlin presented an unbothered smile. “I welcome your thoughts at the next meeting.”
“There will be no expansion in Baith,” Dother commanded, turning his attention back to the lord, who looked between them with raised brows. Under Aedlin and Kalyan’s rule, he’d experienced a unified Crown—this open disagreement an uncomfortable change.
“We will write to you to inform you of the Council’s final decision,” Aedlin said firmly, ignoring the feel of burning azure glaring down at her, Dother silently seething at her side.
A divided monarchy was a threat. A promise of mayhem.
An easy thing to topple. If the people looked to their rulers and saw nothing but a splintered Crown, thousands of tiny pieces scattered to the winds, they’d lose faith in their ability to lead.
There were enough stories of royals losing their heads; Aedlin knew how dangerous it was to disagree so publicly.
But allowing herself to be pushed to the shadows, her power stripped away bit by bit until nothing remained, was a greater danger.
One she was willing to risk her neck to avoid.
Especially if it meant finding Mora.
“I don’t feel right,” Lady Austeria whispered from across the table, pulling Aedlin from her thoughts.