Her hand pressed lightly to her chest, as if trying to physically hold together the pain splintering her from within.
Her son was gone.
Her only son.
And not just physically—no. Something far deeper had shattered.
She had heard his words—sharp and cold—spoken before all the court.
“I am not son of yours.”
That voice echoed relentlessly in her mind, dragging shards of memory with it. His first steps. The laughter in his young eyes. The soft child who had clung to her skirts when thunder rattled the halls.
And now… the man who no longer looked back.
A presence entered the room behind her. Familiar. Strong. Constant.
She didn’t need to turn.
King Paul.
His scent, always grounding, still wrapped around her, but it no longer brought comfort. Only dread.
He stepped beside her, his ha
