The Queen's sudden warmth unsettles me more than her coldness ever did.
When Cassian summoned the Queen and the royal council weeks ago to announce our expected child, her face remained unreadable, her reaction distant. She merely nodded and offered a flat, "Congratulations, Your Grace." No celebration. No maternal joy.
That was then.
Now, she sends me smiles in the corridor. Brief nods. Even sent a folded handwritten note laced in rose scent, congratulating me for "carrying the legacy of the crown."
It is too late for her change of heart to feel sincere. And it is far too sudden.
I don't trust it.
This morning, Esther brings a royal gift wrapped in silk and sealed with the Queen's wax mark.
"She said it was from her personally," Esther murmurs, her brow already tight with concern. "No messenger, no maid... just one of the guards."
I stare at the box for a long second before speaking.
"Hide it. And when it's dark, burn it."
Esther gives one slow nod. "Consider it done."
I rest a hand on my stomach and close my eyes. The child stirs faintly, just a flutter. I whisper beneath my breath, "You are safe. I'll make sure of that."
Weeks later, I host a private baby shower; small, simple, safe.
No nobility. No palace politics. Just the people who truly matter.
Esther transformed the garden lounge with pale lilac drapes, golden candle jars, and soft music that dances in the air. I wear a flowing cream dress that hugs my bump just enough to remind me what a miracle this is. My hair is down. No crown. No titles today.
Madam Jesse arrives first, stunning in a wine-colored gown with gold accessories and her usual confident smile.
"Look at you," she beams, hugging me tight. "You carry royalty well."
I chuckle. "The only piece of royalty I want to carry is this little one."
My parents come next, with Ray bounding ahead of them.
"Uncle Cassian!" he cries gleefully, running into his arms.
Cassian lifts him up, spinning him in the air while Ray squeals in delight. The sight grips my heart with a bittersweet ache. I still haven't told Cassian the truth about Ray. But I will. When the moment is right.
The baby shower is warm and full of laughter. We sip cinnamon punch, nibble on almond cakes, and play silly guessing games. Esther beams the entire time, hovering quietly but protectively. My mother hums soft tunes and runs her hand gently over my belly, while my father silently watches Cassian with cautious approval.
As the evening winds down, Madam Jesse stays back.
She takes my hand, eyes fixed on mine. "There's something I must say," she says, voice quiet.
My smile falters. "Go on."
"Be careful, Celeste."
My breath catches. "You mean about...?"
"Everything," she says with a strange calm. "The Queen's gift… her sudden smiles… none of it sits well. You've made it this far. Don't lower your guard now."
Her warning settles over me like mist.
"You're not the first woman to carry a royal heir," she continues. "But you may be the first one not raised for it. That makes you unpredictable. And a threat."
I swallow. "My doctor said something similar…"
"Then listen to him," she whispers. "And listen to your instincts."
Later that night, after the last candle goes out and Ray falls asleep curled beside my mother, I lie beside Cassian, listening to his steady breath.
The child kicks softly.
And I whisper again:
"You are safe. I'll keep you safe… even if the whole palace stands against us."
That night, I can't sleep.
Cassian's breathing is steady beside me. Ray snores lightly in the next room. But my eyes remain open, staring into the shadows that drape the ceiling.
I press my hand to my belly. The baby is quiet now.
Maybe Madam Jesse's warning unsettled me more than I admitted. Or maybe it's the scent that still lingers faintly in the corridor, that same rose-and-clove perfume the Queen always wore, which now somehow fills me with dread.
Eventually, sleep drags me under.
And then…
I'm walking through the palace halls. Alone. Silent. The walls feel too tall, the air too still. My feet make no sound on the marble.
I turn a corner.
Shea stands at the end of the corridor.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
Just watching me.
Her eyes; coal black, endless. Her lips twist into a smile too wide for her face, a smile that doesn't belong to a person.
My body freezes. I try to speak. I can't.
Then she starts walking toward me.
Not fast. Not slow. Just steady, like she knows I have nowhere to run.
"You shouldn't have come back," she whispers.
I want to scream, but nothing comes out.
She lifts her hand, a skeletal, ash-grey hand with claws instead of fingers and points to my stomach.
"That child doesn't belong to you."
I stagger backward.
"No…no, he's mine," I manage to choke out.
Shea tilts her head. Her eyes gleam like knives.
"But did you ask the palace first?"
Suddenly, I feel hands gripping me from behind; cold, dead hands wrapping around my arms and waist, trying to pull me down. The floor splits open beneath me, like a mouth yawning wide. Smoke, bones, darkness…
I scream.
"Celeste!"
Cassian shakes me awake.
I bolt upright, drenched in sweat, hand flying to my belly.
The baby kicks.
It's okay. It's okay. It was just a dream.
Cassian cups my face. "Hey… breathe. You're safe. I've got you."
My eyes search the shadows. Nothing there. Just our bedroom.
Just the echo of Cher's voice still whispering at the edge of my mind.
That child doesn't belong to you…