Chapter 127
Chapter 127
Morning arrived with a calm that unsettled Freya more than any storm ever could. There was no punishment delivered after Winter’s inevitable complaints. The silence stretched on, and Freya found herself wishing—foolishly—that he would simply call for her and be done with it.
This quiet was worse.
“His Majesty and Her Majesty are having breakfast inside,” a maid informed her, “They’re waiting for you.”
The woman’s smile lingered a moment too long, knowing in a way that made Freya’s skin prickle.
That alone was enough to tighten her chest. Valtor never invited her to breakfast. Not like this.
As she walked through the corridors, hushed laughter followed. She heard maids whispering, eyes darting toward her and then away again. Each step made her pulse pound harder.
Rosentine and Cressida were nowhere to be found. The plans from the night before had been theirs as much as hers, yet now Freya was left to face the consequences alone. Cowards.
And now she would stand before Valtor without shield or ally.
Winter must have told him everything. Or worse twisted it, reshaped it until Freya stood painted as the sole villain. Freya braced herself for whatever sentence awaited her.
Her knees trembled as she reached the doors to the dining room. She stepped inside.
“My King,” she began, forcing her voice steady, “I heard you wished for me to join you for breakf-"
Her words faltered.
Winter was perched on Valtor’s lap, her body angled comfortably against his chest, as though she belonged there by right.
Slowly, she slid down, her smile sharp and triumphant.
Freya’s breath caught.
“Yes. Come here,” Valtor said.
Freya obeyed at once, her feet carrying her forward before her mind could protest. Winter remained standing beside him now, leaning casually against the armrest of his chair, her fingers brushing the carved wood.
“Actually it was I who asked for you. We have something very important to discuss today.” Winter said lightly,
Freya nodded, clasping her hands before her. She angled herself just enough that the bandage on her arm was clearly visible, the proof of Winter's doing the night before. But if Valtor noticed, he gave no sign. Or perhaps he noticed and simply did not care.
'This seems going to be worse than punishment,' Freya thought grimly.
Before the moment could sour further, she bowed her head and spoke. “My Queen, about last night, I apologize-"
“Shhh.” Winter lifted a finger. “Let’s forget that unpleasantness. I understand and I’ve forgiven your impudence.”
Understand? Freya bit back the words burning on her tongue. You nearly tore my hand from my body.
Instead, she remained silent.
“So,” Winter continued, turning her attention back to her, “my husband tells me you’ve been very dedicated to helping me learn the responsibilities of my new position. After all, you’re experienced in these matters.”
Freya nodded slowly, unease pooling in her stomach.
“If there’s anything I can assist you with, Your Majesty,” she replied carefully.
“Hmmm.” Winter tilted her head. “You seem especially concerned about the kingdom’s expectations, about heirs, about children.”
Heat crept up Freya’s neck.
Valtor leaned back in his chair, watching her with an unreadable expression, his gaze sharp enough to strip her bare. She had the distinct feeling he knew far more than he let on and simply chose not to intervene.
“I’ve spoken with the royal healer,” Winter went on smoothly. “They assured me I am perfectly healthy. I can conceive whenever I wish.” Her smile widened. “But the issue is that I don’t feel ready.”
Freya knew that was a lie. None of her castle spies had reported Winter visiting the healer lately. But truth no longer mattered here.
“So, I want you to find a solution. Travel the land. Speak to your contacts. Visit orphanages, villages, or anywhere. Find infants suitable for adoption. Present me with a list, and I will choose the one I desire.” Winter said, clasping her hands.
Freya’s eyes widened. “W-what?”
The words rang absurd in her ears.
Adoption? Because the Queen simply wasn’t ready?
“But, my Queen-"
“Shhh.” Winter cut her off again, her smile never wavering. “You’ll think to ask my husband’s permission, of course. But Freya, he has entrusted this entirely to me.”
Winter’s gaze locked onto hers, cold and victorious.
“And you will do as I ask.”