Five years ago my daughter had been taken for me. Rather, I suppose, she had left willingly, but she had only just been a child. Mari had taken advantage of the situation, as she tended to do, and made sure to make it seem like Toria’s only logical choice had been to leave. On some level even I believed, perhaps still did, that she had been mostly correct. Toria would have stayed bitter at her removal as the heir and likely would have held it against me and her father for the rest of our lives. That would have just been her nature, but at least she would have still been with me and away from the darkness and evil that my mother and her sister reveled in.

  I found myself wondering every single day just how Toria was doing. Was she happy living with them? My blood ran cold at the idea that she would acclimate to a place that still brought a knot of anxiety to my stomach to recall. Yet, I couldn’t deny that she had always been much more like them than me. It was like Toria had been born directly from my mother and had skipped me entirely. Even as a newborn, I could only see my mother’s features and dark eyes and once her dark hair began to grow in thick and straight even I could hardly believe she had come from my womb. I had thought that maybe it was just the strong influence of her father’s bloodline, but the older she got, the more Yser she became.

  I wondered if Toria had ever felt regret for her decision. Maybe she spent nights silently crying out for the comfort of our home. I could not imagine that my mother and aunt had changed their ways to become warm and loving people. If she did look for comfort, I doubted she would find any there.

  Deep down, I felt that there was the possibility that she had never really been my child and a part of her had been waiting to be returned to the seat of the Yser power. Perhaps it was just my own fears playing tricks on my mind. Perhaps it was some lingering clairvoyance from the limited magical power I did posses. I was afraid of which was true and I didn’t want to know the true answer.

  Despite the less than auspicious start to his life, Florin had grown into a bright and rambunctious young boy, spoiled greatly by his father who dotted on every first from first step to first word. Nothing could ever be too good or too much to ask for when it came to his son. The king strove to make sure the boy had everything he could dream up and even if it was the impractical impulses of a child’s mind, he still considered how it could be provided.

  I couldn't help but feel a little sour that his dedication to raising children had only fully manifested with our youngest. Looking back, he had not been quite this level of exceptional father to Toria. He had been sweet to her, never raised a hand in anger, and was generous in the allowance she had for toys and other things she desired, but his devotion ended at the willingness to part with his wealth. I had never once before seen the amazed and overjoyed smiles that Florin could bring forth on the king’s face. He was attentive and played with our son whenever he had a free moment, he wanted to be an active part of Florin’s life.

  I could have maybe written off the sudden change in how my husband wanted to be involved with Florin if not for the utter lack of concern or questioning of how Toria was doing. Once Toria had left, it was as if she had died to him. He never spoke her name or referenced we had ever even had a daughter. On the rare occasions I felt brave enough to bring her up, he always seemed annoyed with the topic. He simply was happier to forget about her and move on with his son.

  In the depths of sorrow for my daughter and the anguish at the indifference of my husband, I sometimes questioned if I had done the right thing. On the one hand, how dare my mother dictate what children I would bear. It was arrogant and evil to try to control such a personal aspect of my life despite the fact she had been the one who cast me out. On the other hand, the fallout from Toria’s leaving showed that a dim fate might have been all that was left for her here.

  Still, giving birth to another daughter would have made the king unhappy and the pressure would not have let up for me to bring forth a son for him. He would have not been satisfied and would not have relented until a son was born one way or another. If not me, it would have been someone else. I could not see my husband having a child out of wedlock with some servant, but I also could not see him staying with a wife who could truly only bear girl children. I did not want to think about it too long, but I did fear that there had been some part of him that had begun to consider his options for replacing me.

  “Mommy!” Florin bellowed, the word somehow finding a way to whistle through his two front teeth. “I want my cake!”

  “Soon, soon, we have to wait for your father to return so that he can see you enjoy your cake,” I replied with a gentle smile. “You know that he’ll want to spend time with you on your birthday.”

  Florin scrunched up his face and began to cry. Perhaps he was becoming a little too doted on and spoiled. Toria would have never thrown a fit at his age about having to wait a little longer, especially if it was at the behest of their father.

  “Surely a small piece shouldn't hurt,” my handmaid chimed in. She often treated him like he was already the ruler, though I suspected that it might have something to do with her ambitions for her daughter who was only a year younger than Florin. “He is a growing boy and must be hungry. The more he eats now, the bigger and stronger he will become.”

  Florin's sniffling turned to excitement as he looked to me hopefully for approval. It was often this way. I would be made out to be the bad guy if I did not give in. I felt like I had to pick my battles or end up with my husband hearing about how unfair I was being to our son. Lately, it felt less like picking battles and just keeping the white flag of surrender permanently posted.

  “I suppose...” I acquiesced.

  Leon would be angry if he found out, even though he would also be angry with me if he had been told I had denied our son his cake early. He would not understand the position I was often put in. He considered me weak for the servants' ability to manipulate me through the heir, but his own anger dictated that I feared mistepping by standing my ground. It felt safer that he merely was a bit angry and disappointed in my weakness then enraged that I was treating Florin unfairly. I had never really understood the lesser of evils before our son was born, but I fully understood the depth of the saying now.

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  The handmaid set aside her weaving with a triumphant smile and offered her hand out to my son. He gladly took it and she toddled him away towards the kitchen for his ill-gotten prize. The ambition was written all over her face, but it was useless to try to do anything about it.

  As they left the room, a sharp pain ran through my abdomen, causing me to have to catch myself in a scream. Sweat broke out across my forehead as the pain recalled, but a spreading tightening blossomed in my womb. I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. I needed to calmly get to my room and lock myself away. No one could know what was about to happen, it would likely mean getting removed from the kingdom in disgrace or worse.

  Glad that the two were gone, I clutched to the side table for stability as I got up, a rush of dizziness washing over me. After a moment with my eyes closed, I felt somewhat steady again, though my body was rapidly declining. I felt my skin go pale and prickly and the pain was rising again, but I knew that it was to be expected.

  Fighting the urge to walk hunched over, I made my way quietly to my bedroom, my hand on my stomach and not down lower so that I could mask my look of pain as just a stomachache if I stumbled into anyone. Luckily, I did not have to make excuses as the hallway was clear and made it to my bed without anyone being the wiser.

  I had not known how long it would take for the herbs to take effect, nor what it would be like. The lesson had been given to me long ago and I had never thought I would have needed to use it. The act seemed vile and disgusted me to think about, but I would not allow myself to bear another child. I had already made enough questionable decisions and I could not stand the thought of losing another daughter if they came to collect this one as well.

  Clenching my teeth against a scream, sweat began to pour down my face and soaked the bed beneath me. My stomach tightened and I turned my head to vomit, not caring that I would have to lay next to the mess for hours. I knew the worst was likely yet to come, though I could not imagine in that moment how it could be any worse.

  The herbs had been easy enough to come by. Buying or collecting them all at once may have been suspicious, so I had been carefully walking the gardens and village herbalists picking up the few sprigs of flowers and herbs over the course of a few weeks. Of course, the longer I waited, the worse it was going to be, but I could not afford to raise any suspicions. All it would have taken is one sharp minded woman to recall what I had been bringing back with me on my walks to put together my plan, so the farther apart the ingredients were acquired, the safer it was.

  The pain intensified, followed by a warm gush of blood from my womb that made me feel like I wanted to vomit again despite my stomach already being empty. I did not know how I would explain what had happened to the maids, perhaps they would accept it just to be a normal miscarriage. But of course, then why had I not told anyone I had been pregnant? A potential second heir would have been a joyous occasion for the kingdom and not something to hide. My head swam with worries and stabs of pain as I curled up into a ball and started to cry quietly.

  Hours later, I felt weak and trembled from head to toe, but the pain was beginning to slow to a dull ache. A few times servants had knocked on my door for various reasons and each time I had called out that I was very ill and did not want to be bothered. I was certain that at least a few of them would spread a rumor that the queen was pregnant. Life was full of bitter humor,

  Trying to stand, my legs felt wobbly, but I thought that I was perhaps past the worst and was now recovering. Turning to look at the bed, I gasped at how deeply stained the down mattress was. Deep crimson and brown radiated out from where I had been laying. My dress as well was drenched and crusted to my thighs, I was a ghastly sight.

  Determined to not be found out, I weakly undid the knots on the back of my dress and carefully pulled the fabric away from my body, revealing that the lower half of my body seemed to be covered with a thick, dried layer of blood. My stomach churned at the sight as I looked down and I had to steady myself by staring at the ceiling before I could continue.

  With the clean top of the dress and my pitcher of water, I carefully scrubbed the dried blood from my skin, careful not to leave any trace behind. All it might take would be one servant to help me get dressed and find a tiny bit of evidence for the questions to start. Perhaps I was being paranoid, but what I had done was not a crime anyone took lightly.

  Feeling more clean, I dressed in a simple gown that I would often wear when ill and tossed my ruined gown onto the mattress. I had to find a way to get rid of them without anyone knowing. There would be no way I could drag the heavy, wet fabric without anyone noticing, so my only option was to burn it in my fireplace. Though too much smoke might draw attention as well. It would have to be done slowly and carefully.

  I meticulously covered the giant stain and dress on the bed with an extra blanket and weakly waddled to the door with the servant bell in hand. I unlocked the door and cracked it open just enough to stick my sickly face into the hallway. I rang the bell and waited.

  “Your majesty!” a young maid exclaimed, picking up speed down the hallway as she saw me.

  “No,” I cried out weakly, “stay back from me. I may be contagious.”

  Despite her concern she stopped short and seemed to try to not breath downwind of me.

  “I vomited all over my bed and had someone take it away to be burned already. Please go into the village tomorrow to purchase a new one,” I instructed. I was shocked by just how weak and gravely my voice was. “Oh, and please, let the other servants know that I may get them sick. I don't want people checking on me out of worry and getting the sickness going around the castle.”

  My warning of being contagious seemed to have the desired effect as her face turned green and she nodded furiously, obviously desperate to be released from my presence. I waved her away and closed the door as calmly as I could before slowly collapsing to the floor. My legs felt like jelly and my heart was racing. I could not understand how aunt Mari could go through this time and time again, perhaps it got easier each time. Once would be quite enough for me.

  Spurred on by a timeline, I crawled over to the side of the bed and tugged the mattress down onto the floor with me. With the knife I kept in my bedside table, I began to carefully carve the fabric of the mattress into pieces and feed them slowly into the crackling fire. It took nearly all night, but I fed the last piece of my dress and remaining feathers into the fire just as dawn peaked over the horizon.

  I was exhausted, felt like I had spent the night on death's door, and was hungry beyond belief, but I also felt triumphant. I had taken my own destiny into my hands and won. The evidence was gone, the servants would stay away while I recovered, and no one would be the wiser. My mother may not have given birth to a powerful sorceress, but at least I was clever.