The words struck like a slap. Her expression fell blank before surprise flickered through it. She clasped her hands tight. “I’ve only just arrived.”
“When?” I repeated, sliding a calendar across the desk. “Take your time.”
She wet her lips, fingers twisting as she stepped closer. Her gaze skimmed the parchment before lifting, uneasy. “It’s—well, I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but such matters are shared between women.”
“And as her husband, would I not notice when I bed her?” I pressed.
Men did not ask such questions. Fallione would not know where to begin. Not when Nienna had not bled during our travels.
And if she had, I would already have my answer.
“She bled at Draconia.” Edith’s tone sharpened, cautious. We both understood the implications. Nienna was not careless. There was no question of infidelity.
Still, I needed certainty.
“I will not ask again, Edith.” My voice held steel.
She studied me as if I were a riddle, respect intact but curiosity stirred. That would not do. I didn’t need anyone delving too deep into my reasoning.
Swallowing, she cleared her throat and leaned over the desk. Her finger traced the calendar. “Her cycle ended here.” She pointed to a mark several weeks past. “I cannot say when it began without my ledgers.”
“Her body follows a regular cycle? No irregularities?”
Her breath caught. The question breached decorum. Had I been any man but her king, she would have shut me down.
“No.” Her answer came faint. She squinted at the dates, lips moving as she counted.
I leaned back, scalp prickling. My heart pounded, hope thudding against reason even as my mind rejected it.
“You must understand,” she said, straightening. “Stress alters a woman’s body. Strain, fear, upheaval. Balance shifts. It may be late.”
I had considered that. Two days meant nothing. Too soon to hope. Or to despair.
Yet she was Nienna. Strong. Raised among dragons. The weeks behind us had been strenuous, and while I couldn’t be certain her bleeding wasn’t affected by it, doubt lingered.
“This does not leave this room.” My tone flattened. “You shall not alter your care. No insinuations. No special attention. If she senses you spoke with me, you will answer for it.”
The words cut harsh, but terror fueled them.
“You have my word, Your Majesty,” she said, expression tight. “But if you believe she carries–”
“No.” I rose, bracing my palms on the desk. The warrior who had slain thousands slipped through the cracks. “She won’t know. You will not change her diet or routine. Nothing shifts. Do you understand?”
Her mouth snapped shut; hands folded before her. “Yes, my king.”
I held her gaze until the promise rooted itself.
Color flared along her cheeks as the silence stretched.
“Dismissed.”
She gathered her skirts and stormed out. Greaves entered behind her, frown set as he closed the door.
“She just arrived,” he muttered, taking the chair opposite as I sank back.
My fingers clenched in my hair, tugging hard before dragging down my face.
It was impossible. A foolish hope borne of Veridis. My infertility had always been both a blessing and a curse. No heir meant no babe being dragged into this life.
