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C ora left Teryn’s door, her heart heavy with disappointment. Where was he? This was the second time she’d come to find him that day. A servant had insisted she’d seen him enter his room not long ago, but he hadn’t answered when she’d called, just like the first time. He couldn’t have been with the physician, for she’d gathered enough intel to learn that his wound had already been tended and hadn’t been too deep in the first place. Even so, he may have been given something for the pain after his cut was treated. He could be sleeping. When she’d extended her senses, she’d felt something that suggested he was inside, but it was nowhere near as strong of an emotional impression as she normally received. But if he was sleeping, was he going to do so until morning? They didn’t have time for that.

Cora was all too aware of the ticking clock.

She’d spent the previous hour talking with the council. Or being talked at , to be more accurate. No matter how she’d tried to argue in her brother’s defense, the truth was that she and Dimetreus had already agreed to give Dimetreus’ council the final say on the king’s abdication. These terms had been necessary to forge the alliance with Verdian and would be written into the upcoming peace pact. Cora knew Verdian would refuse to sign it if she tried to go back on her word, and there was no talking the council out of their decision. Especially since the king had wholeheartedly agreed.

All that was left was for Cora to marry Teryn.

But she couldn’t do that until they had a chance to talk. She couldn’t enter their marriage with the secret of her curse.

She wandered through the halls of the keep, unsure where she intended to go. Returning to work in the tower would be too dangerous in her current state of mind; she knew she couldn’t focus on clearing with her head so full of this newest burden. But as she passed the wing that led to her room, she found herself unwilling to turn. No, she couldn’t sit idly in her bedroom either. She glanced out one of the windows in the hall and caught a glimpse of the early evening sun. There was still plenty of light left in the day. Perhaps she could sneak out after all…

She turned down a corridor that led to a portion of the keep that had yet to be refurbished, her mind set on entering the servants’ passage?—

She pulled up short as a figure, hunched at the base of the far wall, came into view. At first, she saw only a curtain of silver hair draped over dark blue silk, but as she took a step back, the woman’s face lifted from her hands, revealing Queen Mareleau’s tear-filled eyes. Startled, Mareleau bolted upright and pushed to her feet, swiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

Sorrow surged against Cora’s shields, and she was too fatigued to block it. It swept over her, sinking her heart. Or perhaps it simply rested alongside a heart already sunk. Cora could tell Mareleau was embarrassed at being caught crying, so she dipped into a curtsy and turned to leave.

“I’m pregnant,” Mareleau said to Cora’s back.

Cora turned back around. “Oh?”

“My moon cycle is overdue. I’d lost track during my travels, but that and the emotions I’ve been having, not to mention the—” With a grimace, she put a palm to her stomach. “The nausea. I…I think you were right. I’m pregnant.”

Cora frowned. Her voice sounded so empty. So resigned. “Did you not know, Majesty? I thought it was merely a well-kept secret, not something you were unaware of.”

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Who told you in the first place?”

“Lady Sera,” Cora admitted, feeling no guilt about outing her. “She mentioned instructions your mother had given your maids, insisting that you’d conceived on your wedding night, and that they were to forbid you from drinking wine.”

“Mother.” Mareleau bit out the word like a curse.

The queen’s emotions surged against Cora’s shields again, a medley of annoyance, guilt, and grief. At least this time Cora’s nerves were more at ease, allowing her to connect with the elements and thicken her mental wards. Apparently focusing on someone else’s problems were enough to distract her from her own. As much as Cora lacked any sort of friendly feeling toward Mareleau, maybe the distraction was what she needed. And from how the woman had stopped Cora from leaving with her statement that she was with child, perhaps Mareleau needed someone to talk to.

She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be that someone. For now. She took a few steps closer. “If this was something your mother already knew about, then why do you seem so surprised?”

Mareleau narrowed her pale blue eyes, lips pursed tight. Then, with a sigh, she spoke. “I lied.”

Cora arched a brow. “About what?”

Mareleau averted her gaze and wandered to the nearest window. Lacing her fingers through her hair, she wove a messy braid as she stared with eyes that didn’t seem to see anything beyond the window. “I lied about being with child so that my father would allow me to wed Larylis.”

Silence stretched between them in the wake of her confession. Cora could hardly believe what she’d heard.

“No one else knows but Larylis—and Teryn too, now—so don’t tell anyone.” Her voice was nearly monotone, devoid of the barbed ire Cora expected from her.

Cora moved closer and lowered her voice. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because my lie no longer matters. It’s true now.”

“And you aren’t happy about that?”

Mareleau shook her head, lips curved down in a frown. “I’m not ready. I wanted more time with my husband. More time to…just be a woman in love. My parents kept me and Larylis apart for three years. Now that I have him, I just wanted it to be us for a while.” She shifted her gaze to Cora. “You think I’m selfish, don’t you?”

Cora could tell her that this new development neither added nor subtracted from her opinion of her. She expected the queen to be selfish. Cold. Haughty. That was all Mareleau had shown of herself so far.

Instead of saying that, she admitted something that hit far closer to home. “At least your position as queen is secure. You’ve managed to fulfill your singular duty.”

“No,” Mareleau said, whirling toward Cora with a clenched jaw. “I haven’t fulfilled my duty, I’ve only taken the first step. The first of many exhausting steps, and one I wasn’t even ready to take. Do you know what happens next? Next everyone will speculate whether it’s a boy. When I birth my child, I’ll be praised if it is. If not, I’ll be consoled. Then I’ll be expected to try again. Again. Again.”

For the first time, Cora found herself able to relate to the queen. She too felt the burdens of such a role. But she wasn’t ready to express their similarities. “It doesn’t need to be a boy. You and I are both women and heirs.”

Mareleau snorted a humorless laugh. “Are we though? Are we truly heirs? You know how they judge us. How they see us as less than a male heir.”

Cora wasn’t sure who Mareleau’s use of they referred to. The people in general? Her parents? Her uncles? She supposed it didn’t matter, for all were likely true.

Mareleau’s tone turned sharper. “My father was so afraid of what my uncles would do to me as his heir. According to him, the only way I can keep my throne is if Larylis and I merge our kingdoms upon Father’s death. Had I tried to rule as queen with only a consort of a lesser title at my side, my uncles would have fought to take my birthright. He went so far as to suggest they’d kill me for it.”

Cora suppressed a shudder. The men she spoke of—Kevan and Ulrich—now had a stranglehold on Khero’s council, on her very kingdom. She knew they were overly ambitious men, but were they truly as devious as Mareleau had said?

The queen seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “I wonder if he positioned them as your councilmen for this exact reason. To have them so preoccupied in your kingdom that I might have a fighting chance at keeping mine.”

Cora bristled. Mother Goddess, was she right? She hadn’t gotten the impression that Verdian thought too highly of his daughter, but what if he’d had more than one motive in appointing his brothers to Dimetreus’ council?

Mareleau turned back toward the window. “Whatever the case, it isn’t fair. Why must this be all we’re worth as royal women? As nothing more than vehicles for our kingdoms’ future kings. Why are we not kings ourselves?”

Cora nearly sagged with the weight of her words. With the truth of them. Yet Mareleau had something Cora didn’t. “Being with child may not be something you’re ready for, and it may be unfair that bearing heirs is expected of you, but what else can you do? At least with an heir, regardless of gender, you hold a weapon against your uncles’ claims to your birthright.”

Her lips lifted in a sneer. “Children shouldn’t be weapons. Or pawns. Or…anything but what they are.”

Cora’s mouth snapped shut. Again, she found herself agreeing with her. Understanding her. But what was there to do about it? Mareleau was in a position where she could rebel against the norms. She was already queen. Her husband was king. An heir was on the way. How would she feel in Cora’s position, if the choice and capability were taken away from her like it had been done to Cora?

Anger heated Cora’s blood, and she let it rise. It felt better than feeling lost. Uncertain. Trapped. “You know what? You are selfish. No, children shouldn’t be weapons or pawns, but here you are complaining when you could be grateful you can have children at all. Do you know what it’s like for royal women with the opposite problem?”

Mareleau scoffed. “No, do you?”

Cora pursed her lips against her own rage, against the truth that scalded her tongue.

The queen suddenly straightened. She must have seen something in Cora’s face, for her own paled. “Aveline…are you…”

“I was cursed.” The words came out sharp yet trembling. “The sorcerer who once invaded my home—the man who forced my brother to wage war on Menah and Selay—cursed me to die childless.”

The same silence that thickened the air after Mareleau’s confession now settled in the aftermath of Cora’s.

Mareleau’s eyes went wide. “So you can’t…”

Cora shook her head. “Not unless I can figure out how to break the curse. Which makes me an inadequate heir. And I don’t know where you’ve been all day or what you’ve heard, but my brother is being forced to abdicate. I’m expected to marry Teryn first thing in the morning and take on the mantle of queen. A queen who may put an end to the bloodline she’s expected to further. I haven’t even told Teryn yet.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid he’ll value having children more than marrying me.” Saying it out loud made her wince. Hearing her words somehow made her fear seem even more unfounded.

“Why would he care? It’s not like his kingdom would suffer from lack of heir. Only yours.”

Cora gave her a pointed look. “As king consort, Khero will be his kingdom.”

“Well, fine, I suppose that’s true. But all hope isn’t lost. You have relatives, don’t you?”

Cora shook her head. One of the first things she’d learned during her interrogations was that her nearest relatives—most of whom had served her brother at Ridine before Cora was forced to flee the castle—had died, leaving none alive to corroborate Cora’s story. It hadn’t been hard to glean why none remained living. “Morkai ensured all contenders to the throne were eliminated.”

Mareleau furrowed her brow. “Oh. Well…that doesn’t matter either. With your marriage to Teryn, you’ll have new family ties. Teryn and Larylis have younger brothers.”

Cora had never considered such an option, but appointing the role of heir to the nearest male relative wasn’t unheard of.

Mareleau spoke again. “Where do you think my father got his crown? He wasn’t born a Harvallis. He wasn’t even a prince, which is why my uncles are only lords, despite having a king for a brother. My father was simply the eldest living male blood relative of the former King of Selay. I know a distant relative doesn’t have the strongest claim, not nearly as strong as a child. And maybe you can’t further the Caelan bloodline, but do you honestly care about bloodline politics?”

Cora’s answer came easily. “No, I only care about the safety of my kingdom.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll tell Teryn about the curse, you’ll marry, you’ll appoint an heir, and once your reign is strong, you’ll crush every last hope my uncles have at gaining more power than they deserve. Meanwhile, I’ll do the same from my kingdom.”

Cracks began to form in the heavy shroud of Cora’s fears. For the first time in days, she felt hope. Hope that remained even if she couldn’t break her curse. To think she had Mareleau to thank for such a shift in perspective.

She couldn’t stop her mouth from lifting at the corners. “I didn’t know you were such an optimist, Your Majesty.”

Mareleau lifted her chin. “Apparently all it took to improve my mood was to hear about the dire hand you’ve been dealt.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “I’m glad my plight has brought you such amusement.”

The queen stepped closer, her haughty composure back in place. “You know, you aren’t horrible. I don’t hate you.”

“And you are tolerable yourself,” Cora said dryly. Then she softened her tone. “I’m glad you don’t think children should be pawns. You’ll make…an okay mother.”

Mareleau smiled back at her. It was probably the first smile she’d ever received from the queen. But her face crumpled so suddenly, Cora hardly knew what was happening. Not until Mareleau did the absolute last thing Cora expected her to do...

She threw her arms around Cora…

And hugged her.

Mareleau was so much taller than Cora that she found her face nearly buried in the other woman’s bosom. Still, she was too shocked to move.

The queen heaved with sobs. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice strangled by hiccups. “I’m just really…emotional lately and I can’t control it. I don’t even like hugs.”

“Neither do I,” Cora muttered. And yet neither broke away. Instead, they stood a little closer, held each other a little tighter. Maybe they both needed an embrace with all they were going through, and they were simply tolerating the comfort of the last person they wanted it from. Or maybe it was more that they’d found an anchor in the other. A mirror. For in this world of cruel games and royal burdens, Cora and Mareleau were perhaps the two people who understood each other the most.