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Mareleau’s eyes widened as she took in Cora’s presence. “What the seven devils are you doing here?”
“I’m here to check on you, Majesty.” Cora’s barbed tone relayed just how much she was already regretting doing so. “Tell me your symptoms.”
Mareleau scoffed. “Do you fancy yourself a physician?”
“Do you fancy yourself a fool? Surely you know better than to neglect your health in your condition.”
“My condition?”
“Your pregnancy, Majesty.” Cora was done dancing around the subject. If Mareleau wanted to be difficult, then Cora would be blunt. “The child you bear. Whether you’re suffering from the condition itself, the loss of it, or some other ailment, it’s folly to refuse proper care.”
The queen’s mouth fell open and color rose to her cheeks. “It’s…it’s not—who told you? Never mind. Get out!”
Cora lifted her chin. “No.”
“I am the queen—”
“Not mine, though you keep forgetting. Now tell me your symptoms or I’ll plant myself in this room until you do.”
Mareleau bared her teeth with a growl of frustration. Her gaze shifted to her ladies. “Out! The three of you.”
The maids exchanged wary glances, but as Mareleau added a sharp, “Now,” the three scurried from the room and closed the door behind them.
Mareleau groaned as she pulled herself to sitting, struggling to arrange the pillows behind her. The shoulders of her silk gown hung loose as if the back had been left undone. Cora almost felt bad for the queen as she winced with every move, but her pride was too strong to offer help. Mareleau likely wouldn’t want it anyway.
Once she was able to comfortably recline while sitting, she spoke. “It’s not about the baby, trust me.” Her eyes flashed to Cora’s, then quickly away. A flicker of emotion—something like guilt or shame—crept past Cora’s shields.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Mareleau released a huff. “I’m nauseous, all right? That’s all. It started yesterday. My stomach was rumbling most of the day. I worked too hard and got too hungry. Today, I can’t keep anything down. My head is pulsing like it’s about to split in two. I smell terrible.Everythingsmells terrible…and I…well, I simply ate too much cake last night, that’s all.”
Cora’s muscles relaxed. What Mareleau described didn’t sound too dire. But what reason did she have for refusing the attention of a physician?
“It’s all your fault, you know,” Mareleau said.
“My fault?”
“Yes, your fault. I spent hours—hours—slaving away in the courtyard behind the kitchen setting up the perfect romantic dinner for you and your beloved prince. I should have said no, but he begged me. Can you imagine? A prince begging a queen! But I said yes, and—”
“Wait.” Cora frowned. “Teryn had you set up a private dinner for me?”
“Obviously. You refused to attend, did you not?”
Cora’s mouth fell open but she couldn’t find her words. When Teryn had asked her to dine with him last night, she’d imagined them sitting side by side at the feast in the dining hall, not a private meal made especially for her. Her shoulders sank, as did her heart. Though she supposed it made no difference. Even if she’d known about Teryn’s efforts on her behalf, she still wouldn’t have been able to face him last night. She’d needed that time alone. But now she felt the weight of her rejection, regretted that she never saw what he’d planned for her.
“You shouldn’t spurn him, Princess,” Mareleau said, oblivious to Cora’s inner turmoil. Cora was only half listening as the queen continued. “I was just getting used to having a brother, but I daresay I liked him far less last night than usual. Still, I couldn’t let all my hard work go to waste. If you weren’t going to enjoy the bounty, I might as well, though I regret it now.” She lurched as if about to be sick, but quickly settled.
Cora’s mind sharpened, and her gaze snapped back to Mareleau. “Are you saying you dined with him in my stead?”
“Don’t act jealous with me,” she said with a scoff. “If you’d wanted to sit in my place, you very well could have. And I didn’tdinewith him; I only stayed for cake. One that was clearly underbaked.”
Cora tried to ignore the pinching sensation in her heart and gave Mareleau a pointed look. “I highly doubt your nausea is due to an underbaked cake.”
Mareleau pursed her lips and reached for a lock of silver hair. She began winding three strands into a braid but halted. With a grimace, she glanced down at her tresses where they tangled in something slick. With a whine, she dropped her hair and clasped her hands at her waist. Returning her attention to Cora, she rolled her eyes. “Fine, I admit it. I might have had wine too. Just one glass! All right, two.”
Cora crossed her arms. “That’s not what I meant either. I’m referring to the baby. Morning sickness. Though it isn’t uncommon to be more sensitive to liquor while pregnant.”
“Oh, and how would you know anything about it?”
