Back in the palace, I slip into routine like silk through fingers, yet nothing feels ordinary anymore. My body is changing; subtly, then steadily and though my heart sings with quiet joy, my mind still curls around caution like a blanket. Esther knows, of course. She's like an extension of my breath now, always watching, always sensing.
She prepares my meals with greater care, oversees the maids with twice her usual vigilance, and fusses over me every morning like I'm made of porcelain. Cassian notices her hovering but doesn't ask questions, not yet. He's calmer now, gentler. He spends more time at home, and when he's not holding me or reading quietly in the lounge, he's drawing circles on my belly when he thinks I'm asleep.
But I'm never quite asleep these days. My fears have grown as quietly as the child in me.
I've asked him not to make any public announcement just yet.
"It's too soon," I say, every time he brings it up. "I don't want the attention… the noise… the eyes."
He doesn't argue. Not because he agrees, but because he knows better than to fight my ghosts.
Still, the palace whispers. That's the thing about secrets, they beg to be discovered.
Maids glance at me a beat longer than they should. Guards murmur in corners when I pass. One even bowed lower than necessary yesterday, with a smile that said I know. And just this morning, one of the Queen's ladies, who used to pretend I don't exist, curtsied so deeply I almost laughed.
The word is out. It slithered into the palace walls and now echoes off them.
Cassian calls for a gathering.
At first, I don't understand what it's for. But as I watch the council gather in the Grand Court Hall, and the Queen herself takes her seat with the icy grace only she possesses, it hits me. My heart skips, maybe twice.
Cassian takes my hand and leads me forward, into the hall, like a man who has waited a lifetime to speak.
"My lords," he begins, voice even, measured. "My Queen. And loyal council members of Matica…"
His voice lifts, reverberating with pride.
"My wife, Princess Celeste, and I are expecting a child."
The room stills, as though the air itself is trying to understand what it just heard. Then the wave hits; gasps, claps, a few spontaneous cheers.
The Queen… doesn't move. Doesn't blink.
Her face is carved from silence.
But Cassian doesn't care. He's looking at me. Only me.
And in that moment, despite the fear, despite the history, despite the ancient, hidden shadows clinging to the palace walls… I feel seen.
Not as a mystery. Not as a pawn. Not even as a princess.
As the woman he loves. As the mother of his child.
And that, despite everything, is enough.
The moment the announcement ends and formalities dissolve into courtly chatter, I feel the ripple; small at first, then unmistakable. A gaze lingers here. A whisper drifts there. I am no longer the "commoner bride" the Queen regretted inviting into the royal line. I am the future of this dynasty now, carrying the life that will one day sit on Cassian's throne.
But not everyone is pleased.
The Queen doesn't say a word, not during the council, not after. She vanishes into her chambers like fog dissolving into stone. Esther notices it too.
"She didn't clap," she mutters as she helps me out of my formal robe that evening. "Didn't even twitch."
"She's always cold," I say, even though I know better. That wasn't just coldness. That was restraint. Measured, calculated silence.
And silence is more dangerous than a slap.
Cassian tries to lighten the mood. He's all smiles, pouring wine neither of us will drink, ordering music I'm too tired to dance to.
"She'll come around," he says softly, kissing my cheek.
I nod, but in my heart I don't believe that. Not really.
Two days later, I find out I was right.
Esther returns from the Queen's wing pale and breathless.
"She held a private audience," she whispers as she shuts my chamber door. "With her inner council. Only the loyalists."
I rise from the couch. "Did you hear what they discussed?"
"She's questioning the lineage of the child. She said…" Esther hesitates, then says it anyway, "she said the child came too suddenly after a year of barrenness. Something isn't right."
My hand instinctively rests on my belly.
"She also demanded a private midwife of her choosing to confirm the pregnancy details," Esther adds.
I scoff, my voice trembling. "She wants to own the truth. Shape it. Like always."
Esther nods grimly. "And if she can't control the child, she might try to control you."
Later that night, Cassian and I walk the garden trails, hand in hand. He's silent until we reach the Moon Gate where we first kissed after our second wedding.
"She's stirring again, isn't she?" he finally asks.
"She never stopped."
He sighs. "Let her stir. This child is mine. And nothing she does will take that away."
His words warm me but not enough to erase the warning bells ringing in my soul.
***
Dr. Menas arrives the next morning, his presence as calm and confident as always. He's one of the few people I trust fully, one of the few who knows what I went through to conceive this child.
He walks into my chamber with his usual warmth, bowing slightly before greeting me.
"Your Highness," he says, placing a hand over his heart. "You look well."
"Thank you, Doctor. I feel mostly fine. A little tired. A bit anxious," I confess as Esther adjusts the drapes for more light.
He nods, understanding. "Perfectly normal at this stage. May I?"
I lie down, and he begins his examination. His hands are gentle, his voice low and reassuring as he checks my pulse, my abdomen, and listens to the faint heartbeat of the child growing inside me.
After a few minutes, he pulls off his gloves and gives me a soft smile.
"The child is strong," he says. "Everything is progressing well. In fact, better than expected for your first palace pregnancy."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank God."
Esther exhales beside me. "You hear that?" she beams. "You're doing amazing."
But Dr. Menas doesn't leave immediately. He lingers, his expression thoughtful, then steps to the window and stares out into the palace gardens in silence.
"Doctor?" I ask.
He turns slowly, his brow furrowed.
"There is… something else," he says carefully. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but as a man who has worked closely with both science and spirit, I must speak plainly."
My heart skips.
"What is it?"
"There is a presence in this palace," he says slowly, "a heavy one. Not of flesh, but of energy. It clings to certain halls and seems drawn toward you."
Esther stiffens. "Drawn to her?"
He nods. "Your pregnancy emits a powerful life force, one that should be nurtured and protected. But there is something resisting that force here. Something cold. Watching. Waiting."
I sit up carefully, my mouth dry. "Are you saying… this is spiritual?"
"I am saying," he replies solemnly, "you must be vigilant. Avoid certain wings. Be careful whose food you eat, whose hands touch your skin. And…" he hesitates, "do not let the Queen appoint any midwife to your care. That decision must remain yours."
Esther swallows hard. "We knew it. I knew something wasn't right."
Dr. Menas steps closer, resting his hand briefly on mine. "Whatever darkness lingers here, it cannot overpower your light if you protect it. Do not let fear silence you."
I nod slowly, absorbing his words. The fear creeps in again, curling around the edges of my courage. But then I place a hand on my belly and remind myself who I am and who this child is destined to be.
"Thank you, Doctor," I whisper. "For everything."
He bows again and turns to leave, but just before he exits, he adds:
"Be careful of the woman in white. Her silence speaks the loudest."
Esther and I lock eyes.
Shea.