Chapter 44 THE QUEEN WHO DESIRED THE THRONE
For weeks after the Queen Mother’s return, the palace lived under a warm, hopeful glow. Queen Athalia’s pregnancy was now known by everyone from the nobles of the inner court to the old women who sold herbs at the market gates. The kingdom had not welcomed an heir in many years; the joy was genuine and widespread.
Banners were hung from the towers. The palace kitchens worked tirelessly, preparing sweet pastries filled with honey and spiced fruit which was a treat believed to bring good luck to unborn children.
Everywhere Athalia walked, people bowed lower than usual, smiling with open admiration.
She had become a symbol of grace, hope, and continuity.
And for a time, she enjoyed the peace.
The days that followed carried a new rhythm.
Elizabeth took charge of Athalia’s care like arranging her meals, supervising the palace physicians, adjusting her schedule, and insisting she rest more often.
Athalia endured it with calm composure, though she disliked the constant attention. She had spent months hiding the truth, and controlling every detail. Now her privacy shrank like water in a tightening bowl.
Still, she played the role of the grateful queen.
At dinner, Queen Elizabeth asked, “Are the healers treating you well?”
“Yes,” Athalia replied gently. “They are attentive.”
“You should not walk the southern garden stairs,” Elizabeth cautioned. “They are steep.”
“I will avoid them.”
“And no more skipping meals.”
Athalia smiled faintly. “I promise, Your Majesty.”
Elizabeth gave her an approving nod. “Good.”
Adrian watched the exchange with a mixture of relief and concern. Athalia rarely agreed so easily.
After dinner, when they returned to their chambers, Adrian touched her hand. “It is good that she is here.”
Athalia faced him with soft composure. “Yes. It eases your worries.”
“It should ease yours too,” he said.
She held his gaze. “Perhaps it will.”
But deep inside, Athalia felt the child twisting in warning. She felt exposed, observed and at risk.
Elizabeth’s presence brought comfort to Adrian but complications for her. Everyone celebrated her pregnancy and welcomed her child, but Athalia knew the truth.
This child was not a blessing, but a curse only her bore. And now the Queen Mother has returned just when Athalia needed secrecy the most.
One late afternoon, Athalia stepped onto the balcony for air. The courtyard below bustled with servants finishing their evening tasks. Her vision blurred for a moment, but she steadied herself on the railing.
She had been reviewing reports with her secretary, a young steward named Telor. He had just left the room to fetch additional documents when Athalia stepped outside for a moment of air. A steady wind blew across the palace, and she closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze ease the ache in her chest.
Then she heard it.
It was a whisper. Not near her or behind her but from far below in the courtyard.
“These new court policies are a disaster. The king is too trusting, and the queen…that woman changes things she should not…”one muttered. “The king listens to her far too much.”
“She’s only making things worse,” the other replied. “She’s also pale as a ghost and weak as pregnant women should. I say she’s unfit for court matters right now.”
Athalia’s eyes sharpened.
She had always heard whispers of gossip that was a constant echo in court but this time she heard every word with unnatural clarity from a distance. Their voices felt magnified inside her mind.
“Did I just hear them speak?” she whispered to herself.
As one fine morning sun drifted through the tall stained-glass windows and casting soft amber light across the throne room. King Adrian sat at his seat, reviewing petitions from nobles, while Athalia sat beside him, calm and composed. Her gowns were now tailored to hide her growing belly, though her face remained unnaturally pale and her eyes carried a quiet tiredness.
Still, she held herself with flawless posture.
A group of stewards waited below the dais. They were five men and one woman, each dressed in the muted colors of palace service. They bowed when the king gestured for them to speak.
“Your Majesties,” Steward Calven began, “we bring concerns voiced by several noble houses.”
Athalia exchanged a subtle glance with Adrian. “Concerns?” she asked, her tone even.
Calven cleared his throat. “It is… about Her Majesty’s health.”
Another steward stepped forward. “Your Majesty,” he added cautiously, “you have been walking the palace grounds and attending council meetings more frequently than expected for someone in your condition.”
Athalia lifted an eyebrow, faintly amused. “I am pregnant, not dying.”
The steward swallowed. “Of course, Your Majesty. But the nobles some worry that you are refusing proper rest.”
“And why,” Athalia asked calmly, “should that trouble them?”
Calven hesitated. “Some feel that your dedication to governance might suggest a desire to take on responsibilities beyond what is customary for a queen.”
King Adrian frowned. “Are you implying that my wife seeks the throne for herself?”
“No, Your Majesty,” the steward said quickly, “we merely relay what the nobles whisper.”
Athalia leaned forward gently, her voice smooth. “And what do they whisper?”
The woman among them answered, eyes lowered. “That the Queen wishes to rule directly. That perhaps she intends to guide the kingdom alone, even in your presence. And with the pregnancy, they wonder if she overexerts herself for political advantage.”
For a moment, silence settled like a heavy curtain.
Adrian exhaled sharply. “This is absurd.”
Athalia only smiled slightly. “Let them talk. Idle tongues are not new.”
But her smile did not reach her eyes.
“Is that all?” she asked.
The stewards exchanged uneasy glances.
“One more thing, Your Majesty,” Calven said. “Some nobles fear that if you continue refusing rest, it may harm the child. They say that a queen should be careful especially after what happened in our family before.”
Adrian stiffened as he remembered Emelia’s miscarriage. Athalia saw the flicker of pain in his expression.
She rose slowly, placing a hand on her stomach. “You may reassure them,” she said, “that the child is safe.”
“But..."
“That will be all,” she said, gentle but firm.
The stewards bowed and withdrew.
Athalia watched them leave with an unreadable expression.
Adrian took her hand. “Do not trouble yourself with their gossip.”
“I won’t,” she said softly.
But she lied.
Because Athalia never ignored gossip, she never ignored threats and she certainly never ignored insults.