Page 86 of The Crown’s Temptation

He called Alzan forward. Three other men came with him. My mother did not run. She stood where she was and I understood she had already calculated that running would accomplish nothing and had decided to spend what she had left on something else.

They held her down.

"Normally I don't like to make a mess," Orsin said. "But I think I'll do the honors myself." He looked down at her. "Let this be a lesson."

I did not look away. The memory did not let me.

She screamed as he plunged the knife through her abdomen and began carving. She screamed as he ripped her womb out triumphantly and said "the future of Alarna, now reduced to garbage." She screamed and she screamed at him to give it back to her and he smiled and threw it into the pit.

Then she lunged after it.

They did not expect that. Nobody expected that. She threw herself into the pit before anyone could reach her and I watched her disappear into the dark and I understood that she had always known she was going to do this, that this had been the plan from the moment she walked into the Hall of Punishment with the real amulet in her pocket and let him believe the one he held was real.

She crawled through the Sorting Hall and into the woods of Morrath bleeding from a wound that should have killed her already, moving by will alone, until she found what she was looking for.

Her womb.

Axar had found her barely conscious, crouched on the ground of Morrath's woods, a bloodied and dirtied thing clutched against her chest with both hands. He did not ask questions. He carried her back and brought healers and stood outside the door while they worked.

They told her if the womb was replaced she would likely develop an infection and die.

Do it anyway, she demanded.

She told him everything. The amulet. The fake and the real. Where they were hidden and what they could do. Asharin. Hara. The Baron of Veynar. Maridale and Eravic and the vow made over a child who had not yet breathed. The blood note. The Arrolyn. Queen Toritha’s promise.

Then she told him what needed to happen next.

Uralish needed to know she was dead, but her daughter was not. The Witchward would forge a memory stone, and Axar’s network would deliver it.

Stand down. The heir lives. I cannot reveal her location, but you must continue to believe the lie and search quietly. She is Queen Heir. Alarna will accept nothing less. Without the amulet, we remain vulnerable. Protect the wards. Do what you must.

Everything, she said, must be in service of one thing: keeping the amulet out of Orsin's hands until the right person could take it back.

Then she asked him to carry her to the Witchward.

He carried her.

She made the memory stones there, mostly for her daughter to see one day.

Axar was to be my Adjasar, my guardian. He made the blood vow on the spot, pressing his palm to the ground of Morrath and letting it drink what it was owed. He was to protect me when I arrived to Morrath, which the Witchward witches had already confirmed I one day would. Until then his only task was protecting the amulet and awaiting my arrival.

He was to always give Ivanoxa standing and shelter. He promised to teach her how to be a feeder and to remind her to use her glamour to hide her Mark of Forizan. He agreed to all of it.

She took his hand and said, "And know this, Axar Rathmor. I have always loved you and never stopped."

He said nothing, but a single tear trickled down his face.

She told him to tell her daughter she could trust Eravic Vaelor and Maridale Vaelor. That she could trust anyone Axar trusted. That she could trust herself.

She smiled weakly. "I made a daughter. And that daughter has a womb he cannot crush. There will be more of me. The Queen Heir of Alarna is not dead, Axar. Her story has only just begun."

Axar smiled wearily.

"Tell her," she said, "that I lived by loyalty and sacrifice." A pause. "Tell her I hope she lives by loyalty and selfishness."

She closed her eyes.

"Tell her that when I died, I died whole."