with some kind courtly flourish to the word and as much of a bow as he could manage, a hand pressing into the back of a chair to balance himself. "But perhaps you have the natural partiality of a mother? Aha!"
The door to the room opened, and I stiffened at the sight of my sister, glancing quickly to see that my Chosen were safely behind me.
"Your Highness, at last," Thomlinson said through gritted teeth. "We expected you two hours ago."
Camellia eyed me warily from the doorway, flanked by a few of her own Chosen, who passed their hands impatiently over her skin. She was dressed decently, which was rare lately, and someone had made an obvious effort to make her look flush with health, although the stain on her cheeks really gave her the appearance of a shabby doll.
My mother's hand reached out, squeezing mine as she stared at Camellia.
"Darling, are you well?" Mother asked.
"Fine," Camellia snapped, flashing a glare at Thomlinson. "What do you want?"
It might've been comical, the obvious annoyance Thomlinson wore at Camellia's tone, her total disinterest at managing to play the part she'd been given, but I knew she was here now for a reason.
"Your Majesty, you have two heirs, two possible queens to lead Kimmery. I beg of you, Your Eminence," Thomlinson all but moaned with another labored bow, "choose the successor who will do her duty to Kimmery, and not prevent your most dedicated council from doing theirs as well."
"Thomlinson," my mother ground out, her hand tightening around mine, "both of my daughters possess the Hunger. That's been made quite clear."
Thomlinson only smiled, and I realized my grip on my mother's hand was just as tight as hers. "Of course, Your Majesty. But only one of them is making the effort to get with child."
My gasp escaped, too quick to swallow, my eyes growing wide as Thomlinson pulled an innocent looking cloth sack from his pocket.
"Princess Bryony has been taking great care to avoid such a circumstance. The kitchen prepares her a tea every morning to ensure she does not conceive."
"What fucking business is that of yours?" Aric bellowed, but I could see that even Sir Weston, one of my best allies, looked startled by this revelation.
My mother's hand pulled free of mine. "Bryony? You don't want children."
"Of course I do," I said, perhaps too quickly. I swallowed hard and met my mother's wounded gaze. "I do. I only wanted time first. With my Chosen. Time to know that I would be safe, a child would be safe. And time to…to act for Kimmery as I did today. To heal the kingdom before producing an heir."
But I knew already that my mother wouldn't understand. Not right away, not with me fumbling my explanation in my panic. We should've been more careful, should've made the tea ourselves, but I'd never realized what a powerful secret I'd left lying out, practically in the open. It was my body…
But my body belonged to Kimmery too if I was to be queen.
"Please," I whispered as my mother only gazed thoughtfully back. "I would never deceive you in this."
My mother's eyes softened, but only for a moment.
"Mother."
I flinched at Camellia's delicate tone, glaring at her out of the corner of my eyes. She had her arms crossed protectively over her stomach, although if she meant to make herself look as though she was protecting a swollen belly, I thought it was fairly obvious how incredibly thin she still was.
"I have been trying, and I do think it's possible—"
"You're lying!" I cried out without thinking, and Camellia's attempt at wide-eyed innocence faltered with a wicked kind of glee.
"Obviously, Your Majesty, continuing the line of the succession must be considered of the utmost importance," Thomlinson droned.
"There's never been a member of the queen's line who failed to produce an heir, Thomlinson," Sir Weston snapped.
"But has there ever been one intentionally preventing the act?" Thomlinson tossed back.
"How would you know? You're a man! What business is this of yours?" I shouted.
"Enough!" my mother snapped.
I stumbled back, and Owen's hands cupped my shoulders firmly, drawing me into his steady warmth, right as my knees felt as though they might crumple beneath me.
"Your Majesty, an heir—" Thomlinson started again.
"I said enough!" my mother yelled. Her head whipped around, and one of her Chosen stepped forward immediately, wrapping an arm around her shoulder for her to lean into him.
Camellia, having certainly performed her duty—feeding what I suspected was a massive pile of shit to my