One Day, she felt a sudden wave of emotion that was not her own. It came without warning like a sharp sense of irritation, and almost anger. She stood from her chair suddenly, startled by its strength.
I had been standing nearby, but looked at her closely.
"Did you feel that?" I asked.
Athalia nodded slowly. "Yes. But it wasn't mine. How did you..."
"I'm not just a physician, remember?" I said placing a hand gently on Athalia's arm. "The child is becoming aware."
"Aware of what?"
"Of you and the world around you."
Athalia swallowed. "That isn't normal. Is it?."
I did not deny it. "No. It isn't."
That night, Athalia dreamed she was standing in a wide, empty hall. Voices echoed from the walls, though she could not see who spoke. When she woke, her heart raced, and her pillow was damp with sweat.
"The child listens," I said when Athalia told me. "It listens more than it should."
"Can you stop it?" Athalia asked.
I paused. "I can calm it."
Athalia nodded.
Each evening, I performed my quiet rituals.
They were never dramatic with no chants filling the room, no smoke or bright lights. I would sit beside Athalia, place a small glass globe on the bedside table, and rest one hand on Athalia's stomach.
I would speak softly words Athalia could not understand, but a rhythm that soothed both mother and child.
Slowly, the tension would ease and the baby's movements softened. Athalia's breathing steadied.
One night, Athalia reached out and caught my wrist in rage.
"Why doesn't it listen to me when i beg it to calm down? Why does it have to respond to you?" she asked.
I met her gaze. "I don't know. But i believe it recognizes my power."
Athalia's fingers tightened slightly. "From where? Are you a witch?"
I gently freed her wrist. "Far from it, your majesty."
Athalia did not press further. She sensed there were answers she was yet to discover.
Meanwhile, Queen Elizabeth visited often.
She came quietly, without ceremony, usually in the late afternoon when Athalia was resting. At first, her visits were filled with concern. She studied Athalia closely, noticing her pale skin, her thin wrists, and the shadows beneath her eyes.
"You must rest more," Elizabeth insisted during one visit. "You are carrying the heir but you look so weak. Are you really taking all medications?."
Athalia smiled politely. "I am being cared for."
Elizabeth frowned. "By whom?"
"By my personal physician," Athalia replied. "Selene."
Elizabeth turned toward me. I was standing near the window.
"You are new," she said carefully.
"Yes, Your Majesty," I replied, bowing her head. "I was summoned when the Queen fell ill."
Elizabeth studied me. "And are you capable?"
I met her gaze calmly. "I am."
Athalia watched the exchange closely. Elizabeth was sharp and noticed details others missed.
"What have you observed so far about her health?" Elizabeth asked.
I answered carefully. "The Queen's condition is delicate but stable. The child is strong. With proper care, both will endure."
Elizabeth's shoulders relaxed slightly. "That is good to hear."
Over time, Elizabeth's worry eased. Each visit, she found Athalia calmer than before, and more composed. Though she still looked pale, she no longer seemed on the edge of collapse.
"I am glad you are here," Elizabeth said to me one afternoon as Athalia slept. "She needs steady hands."
I inclined her head. "I will remain one, your majesty."
Elizabeth nodded. "See that you do."
Athalia, listening with half-closed eyes, felt a strange mixture of relief and unease.
One evening, after Elizabeth had left, Athalia called me to sit beside her.
"Do you think she suspects anything?" Athalia asked.
I considered this. "She suspects weakness. Nothing more i presume."
"And Adrian?"
"He worries," I said. "But he trusts you."
Athalia's gaze drifted to the window. "Trust is fragile."
"Then you must guard it carefully, your majesty."
Athalia was silent for a long moment. "What will happen when the child is born?"
Selene looked at her steadily. "I do not know."
"That is not an answer."
"But it is the only honest one."
Athalia sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I should have walked away from all of this."
My voice softened. "Walked away from what, your majesty?"
"Nevermind," Athalia agreed.
But despite Selene's help, the strain did not disappear. The more it grew, the more it needed something much more.
Athalia's appetite increased sharply. Some days she ate twice as much as usual, then felt empty again within hours. The servants noticed, but said nothing.
At night, the child grew more active. Athalia woke often with her heart racing, her blood feeling thin, her body cold.
One night, she whispered sharply, "It hurts."
I was there within moments.
"The child is restless," I said, her voice steady. "It senses fear."
"I am not afraid," Athalia said, though her voice shook.
Selene placed the globe against her stomach and the glow deepened.
"Then do not fight it," I said. " Try speaking to it."
Athalia hesitated. "Speak?"
"Yes."
Athalia closed her eyes. "You are safe," she whispered. "And you will have what you need."
The pressure eased as i watched closely.
"You see?" I said quietly. "It now listens to you."
Athalia opened her eyes slowly, exhaling. "What kind of child listens before it is born?"
I met her gaze. "Every child does. Jus that yours is different."
Over time, the court noticed a change.
Athalia walked less and attended fewer meetings. She rested more often, always under Selene's watchful care and she took up matters of the court sometimes..
Queen Elizabeth approved of me staying beside the Queen.
"This is better," she said one morning. "You look calmer."
Athalia nodded. "I feel… steadier."
Queen Elizabeth glanced toward me. "You have done well."
"It is the Queen who does the work," I replied.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. "Still. I am glad you are here."
For the first time since Emelia's loss, she believed her grandchild might truly be safe. She did not see the way i watched Athalia after she was gone. And she did not hear the faint whisper that passed between mother and child in the quiet of the room.
Athalia rested, one hand over her stomach as i stood nearby, calm and patient. The child slept for now but within the silence, it waited.
That evening, as Athalia stood on the same balcony, her hands resting on the cool railing, she heard voices again.
Telor's voice rose from below, speaking to the same companion.
"…tired of pretending everything is well. The king is blind. And the queen is not what she seems."
Her fists clenched.
The hum inside her grew stronger like a dark pulse from the child, as though encouraging her anger.
Her voice came out low. "So…he dares repeat it."
Lira stood near the doorway. "Your Majesty? Did you call?"
"No." Athalia turned sharply. "Leave me for a moment."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
After Lira left, Athalia remained still. She no longer needed to lean close or strain to hear the distant whispers. They came easily, carried through some invisible thread between her and the world.
Telor continued, "A queen should behave with caution, not.."
Athalia did not need to hear more.
"How amusing," she murmured. "A steward who knows nothing of ruling thinks himself wise enough to judge his rulers."
A slight smile touched her lips.
Later, as she dressed for bed, Lira brushed her hair carefully. Athalia stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Lira noticed it. "Your Majesty…your eyes look different tonight."
"Do they?"
"They look…colder."
Athalia lifted her chin. "Perhaps I am thinking too much."
Lira did not respond. She knew the queen was hiding more than she admitted.
Athalia's thoughts drifted back to Telor's words, whispered far below where she should not have been able to hear them.
"What do you say," she whispered, holding her belly. "Perhaps, we teach him a lesson."
The hum in her mind deepened, as if answering.
Athalia closed her eyes. Since she could not remove the child, she could not stop the drain, then she would only adapt. And if anyone spoke ill of her or questioned her rule, then perhaps this powerful, forbidden gift, would serve her in ways no ordinary heir ever could.
"Tomorrow," she murmured weakly, drifting into another restless sleep, "We begin with Telor."
But she couldn't do it alone.