The queen had started feeling the changes in her body.
Not sickness, but something more subtle—fatigue that clung to her bones, a flutter in her chest, a sudden sharpness in smell and sound. She recognized it at once.
She was with child.
She said nothing, not even to King Darian. Not yet.
She would wait.
She had learned long ago that peace is most fragile when built on a heartbeat still forming.
At dawn, she met with the palace healer, an old woman named Marra who had served five kings.
"You must rest more now," Marra said after her examination. "You're strong, but the second child takes a different kind of strength."
Selene nodded. "I don't need rest. I need to survive long enough to hold him—or her."
Two days later, a royal feast was held to celebrate a new trade alliance with the northern provinces. It was Darian's idea—a symbol of unity.
Guests filled the great hall. Nobles, merchants, generals, even council members who had once voted against Selene.
The queen arrived late, dressed in deep emerald silk, her hand resting subtly on her belly. Her presence quieted the room. Everyone stood. Even her enemies rose.
They still doubted her.
But they feared her more.
In the crowd, a young servant girl moved with perfect grace, pouring wine into goblets. No one noticed the slight shake in her hands or the way her eyes kept searching for the queen's cup.
She had been hired just two nights before, from a noble house with ties to Lady Miranna.
When she reached the queen's table, her hand trembled as she lifted the goblet.
But before she could set it down—
A hand seized her wrist.
"Too late," Captain Lirael said, her voice calm, her dagger already unsheathed. "You've already failed."
The room exploded into gasps and confusion.
The cup was knocked aside. The girl dropped to her knees, weeping.
"There was… something in the cup," she sobbed. "I was told it would look like wine. Just wine."
"Who sent you?" Lirael asked.
The girl hesitated.
And then, as if summoned by fate, King Darian stepped forward.
"Answer," he commanded.
The girl looked up at him, then at Selene, and finally whispered the name:
"Lady Miranna."
In the hours that followed, chaos consumed the court.
King Darian ordered the estate of Lady Miranna searched. Her old allies were arrested. Secret letters were found—dozens of them—plotting the poisoning of the queen and unborn heir.
The entire plan had been orchestrated in the shadows.
And it had nearly succeeded.
But Selene had prepared.
In the quiet of her chamber that night, Darian stood beside her as she lay resting.
He spoke softly: "You knew this was coming, didn't you?"
Selene nodded weakly. "I've known since the day she turned her back on your coronation."
Darian looked at her hand, resting on her stomach.
"Is it true?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered. "I am with child."
He said nothing for a long time.
Then—softly—he knelt beside her bed.
"I failed you," he admitted. "You deserved more than silence and suspicion. You held this kingdom up when I could barely hold myself."
Selene didn't smile. She was too tired. But her voice was steady.
"Then don't thank me with words," she said. "Protect what I've built when I no longer can."