Chapter 42 THE CHILD BENEATH HER RIBS
Queen Athalia had grown accustomed to controlling every part of her appearance. She never stepped into a hall unless every strand of hair lay in its proper place. She never let her voice rise, even when anger curled at her throat and she never allowed anyone to see her weakness.
But in the months following the forbidden conception, her reflection no longer obeyed her. Her weakness grew inside her.
At first the changes were subtle that only Lira noticed them. Athalia’s gowns required tightening around her wrists and loosening around her hips. Her once-bright eyes appeared dulled at the edges, and her skin, usually warm with color, turned pale as candle wax.
She ate twice as much at dinner, then pushed her plate away as soon as the dizziness lifted.
The veins at her temples stood out faintly, as if the life inside her fed on her strength each night.
She powdered her cheeks, used richer garments, and draped silks over her shoulders, yet the thinness of her arms could not be fully disguised.
Still, Athalia believed she could hide it as she had hidden worse things in her life.
No one knew for a while, not even King Adrain. He had noticed her fatigue, and of course, as everyone had but he believed it was the pressure of court life. Athalia encouraged that assumption with practiced smiles and late-night reassurances.
But the child growing inside her cared nothing for secrecy. It claimed what it wanted, slowly hollowing her from within.
On one quiet morning. Athalia stood by her window as Lira, her maid, fastened the delicate pearl clasps of her gown. As a noble lady who had just come out of court passed by, a breeze swept in through the balcony doors, lifting the thin layers of her dress. For a moment, the fabric pressed against her stomach, revealing the unmistakable curve underneath.
The noble lady froze.
She gasped quietly. “Your Majesty… forgive me, but are you…”
Athalia turned sharply, gathering the fabric with both hands. “You saw nothing.”
“Your Majesty…” Marian, the noble lady’s voice trembled. “You are with child?.”
Athalia closed her eyes for a moment, steadying the faintness in her head. “You will speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?”
“But this is great news. But does his Majesty know?”
“No.” Athalia’s tone cut through the air. “Not yet. But I will tell him soon as a surprise.”
Marian bowed, but her expression held excitement and worry.
To appear normal, Athalia had insisted on attending the weekly market inspection. Adrain encouraged these outings, believing they helped her relax. She walked calmly between stalls while guards followed at a discreet distance.
She greeted the merchants and asked after their goods, her smile thin but steady. But today, as usual, the market was crowded and watched from every angle.
As Athalia reached for a bundle of herbs, her arm shook faintly. She steadied herself on a table, and a merchant who was an older woman noticed.
“Your Majesty, you look unwell,” the woman said gently.
“The sun is warm today,” Athalia replied.
Before she could step away, a gust of wind swept between the stalls, and lifted her cloak. The curve beneath her gown was carefully hidden with layered fabrics which was revealed for a heartbeat too long.
Whispers rippled instantly.
“Is the queen… with child?”
“She looks ill… or faint from it?”
“Why does it look big?”
“Does the king know?”
Athalia kept walking, refusing to react, but she later heard whispers every word. For by the time she returned to the palace, the rumors had already outrun her carriage.
Within hours, the palace buzzed with speculation of guards, stewards, attendants, and kitchen maids whispering behind doors and carrying gossip through corridors.
“Her Majesty is pregnant. It looks big, was she planning a surprise?”
“She looks too pale… is she eating well or is something wrong with the child?”
The king heard it last.
Adrain entered her chambers without knocking, something he rarely did. Athalia sat at her vanity mirror, brushing powder over her cheeks. She didn’t turn.
“Is it true?” he asked.
She paused, her hand trembling only once before she forced it still. “What did they tell you?”
“That you are with child,” Adrain said. His voice was not angry, only confused. “That you concealed it for three months alone.”
Athalia lifted her gaze to the mirror. Adrain’s reflection looked wounded and conflicted.
She stood and faced him fully. “Yes, Adrain. I am pregnant.”
He stepped toward her, emotion breaking across his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
How could she explain the pact? How could she confess that this cursed life inside her was never meant to exist? That she had tried to remove it?
Her lips parted, but the truth remained locked behind her ribs.
“I needed time to surprise you,” she said softly. “I know you wanted this child, but I wasn’t...”
“Ready?” Adrain repeated. “Athalia… I am your husband. You can always trust me.”
She placed a pale hand on his chest, steadying him and herself. “I know. And I will tell you everything, not just yet.”
He searched her face, then exhaled slowly. “You look so thin,” he murmured. “Let me call the physicians.”
“No,” she said quickly, gripping his sleeve. “Not them or anyone.”
“Athalia…”
“It’s normal,” she lied with a practiced calm. “Pregnancy affects every woman differently.”
He hesitated. “Then let me help you. Perhaps a checkup.”
She leaned into him, too tired to hold herself up. “You are already helping.”
He wrapped his arms around her. She felt his warmth, his sincerity and the child inside her twisted as if resenting it.
Athalia kept her face buried in his shoulder so he would not see the fear in her eyes.
In the days that followed, Athalia ate more than usual to mask the exhaustion and blood loss the child caused. Servants noticed her new appetite.
“She hasn’t eaten that much in months.”
“Maybe she’s craving things?”
“She looks worse each morning…”
But now that her secret was out, she no longer had to pretend she was fine. She only had to pretend she was normal.
Some nights she woke up gasping, gripping the sheets, feeling as if something inside her was draining her very breath. The candles flickered violently each time the sensation came.
Lira hovered near her bed holding her hands every night, whispering, “Your Majesty, should I call the healer?”
“No,” Athalia breathed. “Just water.”
The maid obeyed, though her fear deepened with every passing day.