The Heiress Carrying His Heir

Chapter 117 - 118: Lena’s accounting

Lena’s POV

My room was small. Functional. where the walls were thinner and the windows smaller and no one walked past unless they had a reason to be there. I had been in this room for years. I knew every crack in the ceiling, every loose stone in the floor, every sound the building made at night.

I was sitting on my bed in the early morning. Not yet dressed. Not yet performing the day. My hands were in my lap. My hair was loose. The light through the window was gray and cold.

I was thinking about the scream.

I was honest with myself, here, in this room where no one could read my face. I had no reason to lie to myself. Lying to yourself was how you made mistakes. And I could not afford mistakes.

I knew who he was. I knew immediately, the moment I saw him in the corridor. The particular stillness of him. The way he stood. The way he turned his head when he heard my footsteps. I had seen him a hundred times.

He was supposed to be mine.

That was the thought that burned in my chest every time I saw them together. Every time I saw the way he looked at her. Every time I saw the way she touched her stomach, protecting the child that should have been mine.

He was supposed to be mine. I had known him first. I had loved him first. I had waited for him for years, through everything, through the planning and the danger and the nights when I thought we might not survive. I had given him everything. My loyalty. My silence.

And he had chosen her. The queen. The woman who had everything. The woman who took him without even knowing he was mine.

I screamed because I wanted to hurt him. Because I wanted him to know that I was not his bridge anymore. Because I wanted him to run, the way he had run from me, the way he had run to her.

And because Malakor needed to know he had come back. An unannounced visit in a dark corridor by a man the palace had a description of was exactly the kind of event Malakor paid me to register and report.

My loyalty to Elara and my arrangement with Malakor had been running parallel without colliding. I had kept them separate. I had kept them balanced. I had told myself I could serve both, that I did not have to choose.

Last night they collided. And I chose.

I chose to hurt him. I chose to serve Malakor. I chose to remind Elara that she was not safe, that the man she loved could not protect her, that I was still here, still watching, still waiting.

I was not certain I chose correctly. But I chose.

The arrangement with Malakor was not what people would assume if they knew about it.

He did not ask me to harm Elara. He did not ask me to undermine her. He asked me to observe and report. The correspondence. The movements. The state of the queen’s mind and judgment. He wanted information

Malakor was inside the kingdom. He was not an enemy. He wanted the kingdom stable. He wanted the queen functional. That was what I told myself. That was what I still mostly believed.

What I gave him was information. What he gave me was protection. A place in the new order, when the old order fell. A guarantee that I would not be swept away when the changes came.

I had been serving Elara for years. I had been serving Malakor recently ever since Kaelen chose her over me. I did not know which one I would choose when the moment came. I told myself I would know when I saw it. But I didn’t see myself picking Elara.

I thought about the child. The small, impossible fact of it, growing steadily inside Elara. The child that should have been mine. The child that Kaelen had given to her, the woman who had everything, while I had nothing.

I went to my duties.

The morning was the same as every morning. The corridors were the same. The guards nodded as I passed. The servants moved out of my way. I had been here long enough that no one questioned my presence anywhere.

I prepared the bath. I laid out the clothes. The ordinary machinery of the morning, the rhythm I had kept for years. My hands moved without thinking. My mind was somewhere else.

Elara was at her mirror when I came in. Her hair was loose. Her face was pale. She looked tired. More tired than she should have been.

Good, I thought. Let her be tired. Let her suffer. Let her carry that child until it breaks her.

I worked around her. Straightening things that did not need straightening. Arranging things that were already arranged. The intimacy of the task created the particular privacy of two women alone in a room.

"There is an option you have not considered," I said.

She looked at me in the mirror. Her hands were still. Her face was still. But I saw her jaw tighten.

"The child," I said. "There are women in the lower district who know how to–"

"No."

"Elara, just listen–"

"I said no, Lena."

"You haven’t even heard what I was going to say."

"I know what you were going to say. The answer is no."

"You don’t even know if they’re safe. You don’t even know if–"

"I don’t care if they’re safe. I don’t care if they’re the best in the kingdom. The answer is no."

"Elara, please. Just think about it. Just consider–"

"There is nothing to consider."

"You’re being stubborn."

"I’m being a mother."

"You’re being a fool." The words came out before I could stop them. Her eyes flashed.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I stepped closer. "You are carrying a child that could destroy you. A child whose father is the most wanted man in the kingdom. A child that, if discovered, will cost you your crown, your freedom, maybe your life. And you won’t even consider–"

"I won’t even consider killing it, no."

"I didn’t say killing."

"What do you call it then?"

"I call it solving a problem before it solves you."

She stood up from her stool. She was taller than me. She used that.

"Solving a problem." Her voice was cold. "That’s what you call it."

"No, Lena. You listen to me." She stepped closer. Her voice was low. Furious. "I am not getting rid of this child. No matter what you tell me or say. This child stays. Do you understand me?"

I looked at her. She looked at me. The air between us was thick with things neither of us would say.

"Elara." I used her name. Not her title. The particular register of a woman who had been with her for years and was allowed, sometimes, to use it. "If this becomes known. If the father’s identity becomes known. There are laws. There is precedent. This can lead to very serious troubles. You already have enough enemies. The council could move to–"

"I know what the council could do."

"Do you? Do you really? Because I don’t think you do. I don’t think you understand . Petrov would love nothing more than to–"

"Petrov is nothing."

"Malakor is back now. Why would you risk everything–"

"Because it’s my child." Her voice broke. Just a little. Just enough for me to hear. "Because it’s his child. So The answer is still no," she repeated. "I’m not getting rid of my baby."

She turned back to the mirror. The conversation was over.

I said nothing more. I finished my work. I left.

I reported to Malakor that evening. There was nothing

His study was the same as always. The fire was low. The desk was clear. He was sitting in his chair, waiting for me, the way he always waited.

I went back to my room. Sat on my bed. The same bed I had been sitting on that morning, before the day began, before I had made any of the choices I had made.

I thought about Elara. Carrying Kaelen’s child. The child that should have been mine. The child that would bind them together forever, while I stood outside, watching, invisible.

I thought about myself. Standing between them. Carrying messages. Keeping secrets.

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The cracks were still there. The loose stones were still there. The building made the same sounds it always made.

I had been in this room for years. I had been serving Elara for years.

I did not know how much longer any of it would last.

But I knew that when it ended, I would be the one standing. Not her. Not him. Me.

I closed my eyes and waited for morning.