Chapter 67 The Grand Queen’s Maltreatment

Chapter 67 The Grand Queen’s Maltreatment
67: The Grand Queen’s Maltreatment

I used to think the scariest sound in Dravenmoor was the roar of wolves before a battle. Turns out, the most terrifying sound in this kingdom is tea being stirred by the Grand Queen. Because when she stirs anything slowly, with a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes, someone is about to be destroyed.

Today, apparently, that someone was me.

The morning sun poured through the high glass windows of the reconstructed east wing ballroom now converted into a temporary council salon. Velvet chairs, polished tables, and trays of refreshments formed a sophisticated battlefield, disguised as hospitality.

The Grand Queen sat in the center, posture perfect, beauty regal, danger effortless. Her gown was black and silver, embroidered with Dravenmoor runes that glittered with authority. No crown, she didn’t need one. Power clung to her like perfume.

I sat across from her like an obedient Luna-to-be. Obedient was a generous word. Trapped was more accurate. Narissa was at her right, smiling like she swallowed the sun. Grandlewood ladies surrounded them, all whispering behind delicate fans. Lucian was somewhere outside overseeing reconstruction again. Which meant I was the only woman in this room who didn’t have allies.

Except for the one inside my body that no one else knew about.

I placed a careful hand on my stomach, pretending to adjust my gown. Protecting without looking like I was protecting. Tea arrived. The Mother Queen’s gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.

Fight-or-die moment detected.

She took her cup first, then motioned for mine to be poured. The maid shaking as if she feared dropping the world filled it halfway.

The Mother Queen smiled at me. “Drink.”

One word. A command. Not a request.

I lifted the cup with steady fingers because any tremble would be seen as weakness. Every mouth watched. Narissa leaned in the slightest bit forward, interest gleaming.

I peered at the tea. It smelled like lavender and mint. Peaceful. Harmless. That was what scared me.

I didn’t drink.

Instead, I smiled sweetly. “I’m allergic to mint.”

I am not.

But one does not survive war and curses without learning the art of lying convincingly.

The Queen didn’t flinch. Her voice floated like silk over barbed wire. “Allergic? Interesting. It was your favorite herb according to Dravenmoor medical records.”

Ah. Of course she read my entire history. Probably memorized it. Probably had a framed copy in her bedroom.

I laughed softly. “Pregnancy changes many things.” The entire salon went silent at once.

I felt my soul leave my body and punch me in the face.

The Mother Queen’s eyes narrowed one millimeter. “I beg your pardon.”

No going back. The lie had to evolve into a survival tactic.

“I meant if I ever become pregnant,” I corrected smoothly. “I’ve heard it changes food preferences.” I leaned back gracefully, expression bored. “Though I’m sure Narissa will learn that someday.”

Narissa’s polite smile cracked.

The Queen didn’t look at Narissa. She looked only at me. Sharp. Calculating. Intrusive. I held her gaze the way a soldier holds a sword because breaking eye contact would be surrender.

After a long, suffocating silence, she lifted her tea again. “Mint is good for the stomach. It prevents… complications.”

My pulse thundered.

She knew something.

Not pregnancy exactly, but something was not adding up to her liking and she wasn’t used to losing control of narratives. She set the cup down.

“Aria,” she said, voice calm enough to freeze the sun, “come with me.”

No choice. If I refused, war. If I agreed… war in private. I stood and followed her out of the salon.

Narissa and the court watched me with predatory anticipation. Entertainment. A Luna being devoured was the kingdom’s favorite show. The doors shut behind us.

Silence.

The Queen walked down the corridor, graceful and lethal. I followed like someone walking toward their execution. We reached the old consecration hall, the one untouched by renovations, stone cold and echoing. Empty. Locked from inside. Trapped with a monarch who hated me.

Good. Wonderful. Definitely the kind of environment recommended for pregnancy.

The Queen turned. Her voice was silk polished over steel.

“Tell me the truth. Something is different about you.”

I swallowed. “I’m adjusting to new responsibilities.”

“You are lying.”

She stepped closer. I forced every muscle not to retreat. Predators chase when you run.

“You have changed,” she continued, eyes studying me like a puzzle she intended to break apart. “Your pulse is faster, your scent is different, your energy is unfocused. You cling to Lucian one moment then avoid him the next. You are unstable.”

I laughed weakly. “That is called trauma.”

“Do not insult my intelligence.” She snapped her fingers. A maid entered, carrying another tea set.

This one smelled… wrong. Not mint. Something metallic. Bitter. My instincts screamed.

The Queen poured a cup herself. No servants. No room for excuses.

“Drink.”

I froze. I wasn’t sure what was in the cup, but every fiber of my body knew:

Do not drink.

I smiled politely. “I already told you—”

Her voice cut through my excuse like a blade.

“This will determine whether you belong here.” Belong. Meaning survive.

I lifted the cup only halfway before nausea hit like lightning. Not emotional physical. Violent. Instinctive. My stomach twisted so hard I gagged.

The Queen watched with terrifying calm.

“Oh,” she whispered. Not surprised. Not confused. Satisfied. “You are with child.”

The air thickened, suffocating. I tried to step back but she moved faster, nails digging into my wrist.

“Whose is it?”

I managed a glare. “Whose do you think?” She shoved me backward so hard I hit the stone wall.

Her control shattered like glass. “That child will destroy Dravenmoor. Do you understand that? A Queen is chosen by the Council. A Luna is chosen by wolves. But an heir is chosen by prophecy. And prophecy will tear apart every alliance I built.” Her hands shook not with fear. With fury.

“So you will lose it.” The phrase punched air out of my lungs.

Her voice turned cold again. “I am giving you a week. Either nature will take its course… or I will.” She walked away, leaving me pinned to the wall by horror alone.

I waited until her footsteps faded before collapsing to the ground, both arms wrapped around my stomach. I didn’t cry. Not loudly. Just silently. The kind of crying that comes from deep, ancient places inside the heart.

I stayed there until I could breathe again. Then I wiped my eyes. Stood. Straightened my gown. And spoke to the little life inside me through clenched teeth.

“No one is touching you. Not a Queen. Not a Council. Not a prophecy. Not fate.” My fingers curled protectively.

“If I have to carry you through hell to keep you safe, then hell better move aside.”

The next day was worse. The Queen didn’t scream or threaten. She “corrected.” She “trained” me in etiquette until my feet bled inside my shoes. She sent me to meetings that lasted five hours without food or water. She assigned Narissa to “assist me” which meant isolate, humiliate, sabotage.

Every time I swayed or paled, the Queen’s eyes gleamed. Waiting. Counting days.

Lucian didn’t notice. He kissed my forehead in passing. He held my hand sleepily before rushing to another council meeting. He kept telling me, with a gentle smile, “It’s getting better. Everything is stabilizing.”

Yes. For him.

Not for me.

I didn’t blame him. I hated that I didn’t blame him. But I couldn’t tell him. Not here. Not yet.

One night, when he was asleep beside me, I touched his cheek in the darkness.

“I wish you knew,” I whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to protect you from the truth that should’ve been ours to celebrate.”

My stomach fluttered not pain this time. Movement. I covered my mouth to stop my sob.

“Hi,” I whispered to my child. “You’re real.” And the love that filled me was so strong it hurt. I stayed awake the entire night guarding my unborn child like a wolf guarding a wounded limb.

Weeks passed. The Queen didn’t stop. She tightened her grip instead. She manipulated schedules so Lucian was never near me when I collapsed. She “forgot” meals at gatherings. She staged public criticisms wrapped in compliments. She forced me to train, sit, stand, speak perfection or punishment.

Everyone thought she was preparing me to become Queen.

Only I knew she was trying to break my body enough to break the child. She was patient. But I was patient too. And I had something she didn’t: I had a reason to survive.

The breaking point came during a formal ceremony rehearsal for the trial coronation. Everything was polished. Perfect. Cold. I stood in the center of the throne hall wearing the heavy Luna crown. A show. Lucian sat on the throne, unaware of the silent war happening six feet away from him. The Queen walked toward me with the ceremonial scepter forged in magic and iron. She placed it in my hand.

I bit down a cry and it burned like fire. My knees buckled. I tightened every muscle so as not to fall. She leaned forward, whispering only for me: “Drop it. Lose the child. Lose the crown. Lose your place.”

My breath shattered.

I looked up and Lucian was looking at me. But he didn’t see me. He saw a future. A ceremony. A kingdom. Not Keira. Not the woman drowning right in front of him. I forced a smile and lifted the burning scepter higher despite the pain. The Queen’s eyes widened with fury.

I didn’t break. Not for her.

The ceremony ended. Applause filled the hall. The Queen smiled at the crowd, perfect and pleased except for the tiny, priceless detail: She knew she was losing.

I walked out on shaking legs, head high. The moment the doors closed behind me, I collapsed to the floor, clutching my stomach half sob, half laughter.

“See?” I whispered breathlessly. “We can do this.”

Footsteps approached.

I flinched but it wasn’t the Queen. It was Elijah.

He knelt, panic in his eyes. “Milady, what happened?” I opened my mouth… And for the first time, the truth almost came out.

“It’s not just stress,” I whispered. “It’s—” But the doors behind us swung open. The Queen stepped out.

Elijah instantly shifted to bow. I stood despite the world spinning. No weakness in front of the enemy. She glanced between us and smiled.

“Aria and I have an early council lesson tomorrow. Do rest well.” She left. Elijah looked at me with fear he almost never showed. “Milady… what is happening to you?”

And I lied.

Because I had no choice.

“I’ll be fine.” But I wasn’t. Not even close.

That night, I curled on the bed, both arms wrapped over my stomach, whispering repeatedly like a vow, like a spell, like a prayer.

“I won’t lose you. No matter what she tries, no matter what politics demand, no matter what fate wants.”

The room was dark. But inside my body… there was light. And for that light, I would burn the world.