Amara laid at the foot of her bed, with a robe loosely draped around her body. Though she was mostly covered, her legs were propped up on the mattress, revealing much of her lower half. Between her thighs was the midwife, who sat on a little wooden stool. Amara inhaled deeply, trying to relax as the middle-aged woman pressed her cold, thin fingers into her slit, checking for any sign of early dilation. The midwife hummed under her breath and nodded slightly as she felt around Amara’s birthing canal.

  “Everything feels as it should, Your Majesty,” she said reassuringly. “No sign of early labor. Your body is holding steady, which is exactly what we want to see.”

  Amara sighed in relief as the midwife withdrew her hands, adjusting the queen’s robe slightly before patting her knee.

  “You can lower your legs now, Your Majesty.”

  Once Amara was settled more comfortably, the midwife shifted her focus to the queen’s swollen belly. At seven months along with twins, her stomach was pronounced, and the skin stretched painfully thin. The woman placed her hands carefully on the sides of Amara’s belly, pressing and feeling the babies.

  “The little dragons are strong,” she remarked approvingly as she moved her hands across the queen’s abdomen. “Both of them. Active little things, aren’t they?”

  “They never seem to stop moving,” Amara replied with a small, tired smile.

  “That’s a good thing,” the midwife chuckled. She leaned in, placing an ear gently to the belly, listening for a minute before straightening. “Heartbeats sound steady. No distress.”

  Satisfied, the woman moved to the next part of the examination, pressing her hands against Amara’s breasts. They weren’t as full as the midwife would have liked, and the nipples hadn’t grown much.

  “Any sign of lactation yet?”

  “Not yet,” Amara shook her head.

  “That’s normal, especially with a first pregnancy,” the midwife nodded. “Your milk will come in soon enough. However, I suggest picking out a few nurse-maids in the coming weeks. It never hurts to have them on stand-by just in case.”

  Once she had completed her assessment, the woman took the edges of Amara’s robe and gently pulled it over her breasts.

  “You’re doing well, Your Majesty. I can confidently say the pregnancy is progressing as it should.” But then she paused as she looked at the stretch marks across the queen’s belly. “Your skin has stretched considerably, which is to be expected with twins. But, might I suggest a smoothing cream that the healers could make? It would help lighten up the marks. And once you’ve given birth, I can prescribe another to help tighten the skin.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Amara frowned slightly, shifting on the bed. “It isn’t as if anyone will be seeing me naked after this.”

  “The king will want to share your bed again, my queen,” the midwife said gently, misinterpreting Amara’s hesitation. “These creams will help restore your body to how it was before.”

  Amara lowered her gaze, saying nothing. She wasn’t concerned about how she looked—Rhett wasn’t the sort of man who cared for such things. No… her fear was that he no longer wanted her at all, not after she named him king. It had been a week since that night, since their argument, and she hadn’t seen or spoken to him since.

  The midwife, unaware of the reasoning behind the queen’s silence, turned her attention to Molly Rose.

  “And you, my lady?” She inquired with a smile. “Have the ginger teas helped with your nausea?”

  “It’s not really helping,” Molly Rose admitted with a sigh. “Mainly because I find the taste unpleasant, so it’s hard to drink.”

  “Well,” the midwife murmured as she thought to herself. “You can see if the kitchens could make you some candied ginger instead. Perhaps that taste would be more to your liking?”

  “I can try, thank you for the suggestion,” Molly Rose nodded.

  “I’ll see myself out,” the woman smiled as she gathered her things. “I’ll be back soon to check on you, Your Majesty. But feel free to call for me in the meantime.”

  With that, she inclined her head respectfully and stepped out of the chamber, leaving the two women alone. Molly Rose stepped forward, holding out her hands to help Amara up, but the queen remained still with her gaze fixed on the floor. With a sigh, Molly Rose reached forward, gently tucking strands of Amara’s dark hair behind her ear.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She inquired softly.

  Amara exhaled through her nose before shaking her head.

  “What’s the point?” She murmured. “Will it bring Rhett here? Will it fix everything that I’ve ruined?”

  Molly Rose hesitated, searching for the right words—something, anything, that might lift Amara’s spirits.

  “Well,” she began, offering a small smile. “How about we go to the entertaining room and look out at the gardens? We had fresh snow last night—it looks beautiful.

  “No.”

  Molly Rose bit the inside of her cheek as she thought of something else.

  “Then, how about I fetch one of your books? You’ve barely read anything these past few days.”

  Amara shook her head in response.

  “We could play cards?”

  “I’m not in the mood,” the queen sighed.

  “What if I sent for the musicians?” Molly Rose inquired hopefully. “Some flute or harp might—”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I don’t want music,” Amara interrupted firmly.

  Molly Rose scowled, straightening her back before offering one final suggestion.

  “What about a warm bath? I can have the girls add rose petals—maybe some of that lavender oil you like? It might help your muscles relax.”

  At this, Amara paused, pressing her lips together in thought.

  “And…” Molly Rose quickly added. “We can get some sweets and fresh fruit for you to enjoy while you soak.”

  A few seconds passed, and then Amara looked sheepishly at her friend.

  “Could I have some honey cakes?”

  “Of course,” Molly Rose chuckled. “I’ll go down to the kitchens myself and choose the best ones.”

  “Will you inquire about the ginger candies the midwife recommended for you?” Amara inquired.

  “Of course, my queen,” Molly Rose smiled as she held out her hands.

  Finally, Amara smiled, allowing for her friend to help her up from the bed. Once she was settled in a cushioned chair near the fireplace, and a blanket draped over her lap, Molly Rose made her way out of the bedchamber.

  Stepping into the entertaining room, she quickly caught the attention of the maids.

  “Prepare a hot bath for Amara,” she instructed. “With plenty of rose petals and lavender oil.”

  Claire, Liza, and Skye nodded, immediately getting to work. After they left, Molly Rose turned to Elara.

  “Go keep your sister company while I’m gone,” she said gently. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  As Elara made her way toward the bedchamber, Molly Rose stepped into the corridor—only to instantly freeze. A few feet away, the midwife stood speaking with Rhett. The king was anxious, rubbing his hands together, and it was clear that he was worried. The midwife, on the other hand, appeared calm, answering whatever question he had.

  “What are you doing here?” Molly Rose demanded as she approached them.

  “I was inquiring about Amara and the babies,” Rhett answered as he avoided looking at the young lady.

  Molly Rose’s frown deepened before turning to the midwife.

  “You may go.”

  The woman hesitated for a brief moment before giving a respectful nod and stepping away, leaving the two alone. Once she was gone, Molly Rose glared at Rhett.

  “If you wish to know how Amara is doing, ask her yourself.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Rhett growled, not wanting to have a confrontation with Molly Rose. So, in an attempt to get her to back off, his eyes flashed orange as he glared at her.

  “You’re right!” She snapped, stepping closer to the king, refusing to be intimidated. “You should be explaining yourself to Amara! Instead, you’re standing out here, asking strangers about your wife when she’s just behind that door—only several feet away!”

  “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered with a scowl, turning on his heels to walk away.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Molly Rose said, quickening her pace to catch up to him. “You don’t get to run away like some coward.”

  Rhett stopped so suddenly that Molly Rose nearly collided into him. He spun around and gripped her wrist tightly.

  “You would dare speak ill against your—”

  But before he could finish speaking, she swung her free hand, striking the king against his cheek. Silence filled the corridor as all stopped to watch the scene. Rhett barely flinched, but his eyes darkened and the air around them grew increasingly hot.

  “What did I say about you slapping me,” he growled.

  “I’ll do it again,” she hissed defiantly as she attempted to yank her wrist free. “I warned you what would happen if you hurt Amara. Day and night, she cries for you until it makes her sick. Do you even realize how lucky we are that all this stress hasn’t put her or the babies in danger?”

  “That’s why I was asking the midwife how she was doing,” he countered.

  “She’s right there, Rhett!” Molly Rose shouted, motioning back toward the royal apartments with her free arm. “Just go see her! Speak to her! Anything—”

  She swallowed hard, her voice cracking as she continued in a softer tone.

  “Please… Do you want me to beg? Because I will. If that’s what it takes I’ll—”

  “Stop,” Rhett whispered in a pained voice.

  His expression faltered and his fingers loosened around her wrists. Suddenly, he let go as if burned to touch Molly Rose. He exhaled deeply before running a hand through his hair, trying to fight off the ache that grew in his chest.

  She cries for you until it makes her sick…

  The words hurt to hear, and all he could do was imagine Amara, curled up on her bed, cradling her stomach with a tear-streaked face. The thought made him feel immense guilt, yet it didn’t diminish Amara’s betrayal.

  “I wish I could…” he admitted in a whisper. “You say she’s hurting, but so am I. What some witch said doesn’t matter—I still don’t want to be king. And now, after learning the kingdom could collapse if I step down, I feel like I’m being forced into this, guilt-tripped into staying on the throne. This isn’t what I wanted. Amara put this on me… and I just—I can’t bring myself to be near her yet.”

  “Look,” Molly Rose sighed as her expression softened. “You don’t have to forgive her. I get it—truly, I do. But I am the one who has to watch her suffer, day after day. If you can’t see her… can you at least write her a letter? I don’t care if all you do is ask how she’s feeling—just something. She needs something, Rhett. Please.”

  The young king flexed his fingers at his sides before he dragged a hand down his face. He glanced to the royal apartments—toward the door that separated him from Amara. After a long silence between him and Molly Rose, Rhett finally gave a slow nod.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll write her a letter after I meet with the council.”

  “Thank you,” Molly Rose sighed in relief.

  But Rhett didn’t wait for her gratitude. He turned away quickly, leaving without another word. He walked across the palace, going toward the main council chamber where over a dozen other men waited for him. Upon his arrival, the men stood from their chairs, eager to greet their new king. Near the head of the table was his father, while the rest were old men who served under Julian. Rhett made a mental note to look into the qualifications of the current council members, knowing undoubtedly that some were here because of bribes or greed.

  The young king took his place at the head of the table, gripping the arms of his chair before lowering himself onto it. After he was seated, the rest of the room followed suit, and the sounds of scraping chairs filled the room before one of the lords cleared his throat.

  “Your Majesty,” he greeted before picking up a piece of parchment. “Since it is the start of the new year, the council would like to discuss preparations for this year’s Progress.”

  “Go on,” Rhett nodded, motioning for them to continue.

  “I suggest we start in Walford,” Julian interjected as he turned to his son. “That way, we can end in Onlon, where you could take your month of rest before returning to Casshire.”

  Some of the lords murmured their agreement, with some saying it would be good for the queen and their two newborn babies. But Rhett said nothing. He merely listened, tracing his fingers idly on the arm of his chair.

  Taking the king’s silence as permission to continue, the council resumed their plans for the Progress. Eventually, the discussion shifted to matters of taxes, border patrols, and upcoming trade renewals with other kingdoms. Rhett listened but contributed little since his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Amara. Or rather, on listening to his dragon whine about seeing her.

  But then, the doors to the chambers swung open, startling everyone in the room. A messenger stumbled in, breathing heavily. Rather than waiting for the king to acknowledge him, the man rushed forward, falling to his knees in front of Rhett. He held out a rolled parchment.

  “My king,” he panted. “This just came in from Jux. The courier who delivered it said it was to be placed directly in your hands.”

  Rhett raised an eyebrow and reached out, taking the parchment. He narrowed his eyes as he turned it over, seeing his brother’s wax seal. Everyone was silent as they watched him break it open before reading the parchment. They watched as his grip tightened on the paper and deep creases formed across his forehead. By the time he reached the bottom, the young king’s jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth started to ache.

  “Rhett?” Julian inquired as he shifted in his chair.

  Rhett exhaled loudly through his nose before he tossed the parchment across the table to his father.

  “Emmett has declared war against me,” he said flatly. “He is currently in Drurus, where King Arnav has backed his claim to the throne of Sylvaris.”