Elara's POV
After Lena left, the door closed and the room went quiet.
I sat at the edge of the bath and did not move for a long time. The water had gone cold. The candles had burned low. My hands were still in my lap. My face was still. But my mind was not still. My mind was moving.
The question was not whether to keep the child. That was settled. It had been settled the moment Lena said the word and I heard myself say no before I had consciously decided. The word had come from somewhere deep. Somewhere that did not need to think. Somewhere that already knew.
The question was how.
How did I keep the child and keep the throne? How did I manage the timeline before the pregnancy became visible, before the council noticed, before Petrov found a thread to pull? How did I build the ground beneath my feet fast enough that when this became known, and it would become known, I was standing on something solid?
I pressed my hand to my stomach. The child was still there. Growing. Waiting.
