to survive.”
“The good news is the death has been ruled an accident. I am absolved.”
“Oh, that is good news!”
“Unfortunately, I do not think that means they will give up on their hope to position our worship as heresy.”
The queen stares glumly into her posset. “If they succeed, then all who worship the Nine will be declared heretics.”
To try a queen for heresy would be a shocking scandal—but one that might suit the regent’s aspirations perfectly. “I do not think they will go that far,” I tell her, but I no longer pretend to understand just how far these people will go.
“Not only have the Nine been sanctioned by the Church,” she grumbles, “they have lent me their aid when I needed it most.” She sets her chin stubbornly. “I will not renounce them.” She looks up at me then, her eyes suddenly sparkling. “But I forget. You have not heard the news. We may yet have one more arrow in our quiver.” She smiles shyly. In truth, she appears to be blushing faintly.
“What news?” For some inexplicable reason, I grow chilled.
Her blush deepens, and she looks down at her fingers, playing with the rim of her goblet. “I am pregnant.”
My body feels as if it has turned to stone, and my vision narrows until small black spots begin dancing before my eyes. “Pregnant?” My voice is steady. Normal, even. I clap my hands together to keep them from drifting to my belly. No matter how deeply the mind tries to hide it, no matter how thick the heart builds the walls, the body remembers. “You are certain?”
She tilts her head, perplexed. “Is this not good news?”
“Of course, Your Majesty! This is a most joyous and welcome event!”
“Then why do you look as if you are attending a funeral?”
“I am just stunned. I did not think enough time had passed.” It has just been over five weeks since the wedding.
The queen wrinkles her nose. “It was too early to tell before now, but this is the second monthly course I have missed. The first one was right after the wedding, and we thought it was due to the travel and excitement. But now, with the second one . . .” She shrugs gracefully.
“And there are other signs, as well.” Heloise appears beside me and takes the half-drunk posset from the queen. “Her breasts are tender. She cannot keep food down. And she is sleeping nearly all the time.”
My own breasts tighten in painful remembrance. “Those are the signs. And may I just say again, Your Majesty, how happy I am for you. There is nothing that could tip the scales in our favor more than this news.” That is when the first glimmer of happiness finally gets through—not only because she will be having a child, but because the political implications are so far-reaching. She now holds an entire handful of cards she did not have before.
She smiles, joy and relief writ plain on her face. In spite of the wretched trembling of my body, I am happy for her.
“Surely our new position”—her hand waves awkwardly at her middle—“will make the king think twice before making any such decisions.”
Her words are a vicious reminder of how unfair the world is. That only her potential to produce a dauphin can assure her of the king’s favor. “Surely he will, for he won’t wish so much as a whiff of illegitimacy on the dauphin. Even so, I think it best to wait for the right moment to share this news with him.” What I do not say is that between the regent and the bishop, there is a chance things could get even worse, and we do not want to use up all our arrows before the true fight has even begun.
* * *
The walk through the palace halls back to my own room lasts a lifetime. Nay, a thousand lifetimes if counting my baby’s lifespan. She is long grown cold now, but I held her tiny, warm body for a handful of minutes, each one of them more precious than any jewel. The wound should be long healed, but my body—my stubborn, obstinate body—will not forget.
Nor my heart. Both tremble and flutter as if it were still holding that small bundle in my arms.
When at last I reach my door, I thrust it open and stumble inside. Desperately in need of air, I rush to the window and throw it open, lifting my face to the cold bite of winter that pours