Page 141 of Somber Prince

She shook her head. “It’s hard to speak when they cut your head off before you even get a chance to open your mouth.”

How did I get myself into this conversation?

Why were we talking about things that had absolutely no relevance to Rha?

“Um… Your Majesty,” I started.

She dropped the used spoon into a tall vase on a stand next to the honeycombs. Her hand jerked as she did it. The spoon clinked against the hammered metal vase, the sound reverberating through the room like the ringing of a bell.

The queen’s fingers trembled, and she balled her hand into a fist. Her lips quivered, and she bit the bottom one in an attempt to stop the tremor. With a long, shaky breath, she composed herself.

“So.” She turned to me again, her voice calm and steady like before. “They say you’re a dancer?”

Another unrelated topic. But I believed I now understood what she was doing. The queen was very much aware of her son dying a slow death out there. This room, with all these honeycombs and the bees, was just a tool for her to deal with that awareness. She had them for the same purpose Rha had his never-ending puzzle or his very discriminating pet cat.

In a world with no joy, calm was treasured above all. It required effort and special tools to achieve it, especially in a situation like we were in right now.

Our idle conversation was just a distraction, something to occupy the time until the queen would find the strength to hopefully speak about what really mattered.

Did that mean she cared?

Could I allow myself to hope that she did?

“Yes,” I replied tentatively. “I’m a professional dancer. Or used to be, back in my world.”

I wondered how the queen knew about that. She probably found it out from Alzali, who must’ve learned about my dancing on her visit to Teneris. The queen had spoken to her about me. Did she also know what Rha and I meant to each other?

“Maybe we’ll see you dance one day,” she said casually.

“I dance the best when I’m happy.”

“Is that so?” She arched an eyebrow. “And what makes you happy, Sweet One?”

“Your son made me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

She sucked in a breath, pursing her lips. I’d struck a nerve, and it didn’t look like it was in my favor.

“My son is dead. You’ll have to find another source of happiness now.”

“It’s not too late to save him.” I stepped closer to her, wringing my hands as nerves racked me. “Spare his life. Give him back to me.”

She glared at me from under her veil.

“And who will give me back my love?”

“Killing Rha won’t bring his father back. But you can still have your son.”

“He’s hardly been a son of mine.”

“You never gave him that chance. Save him. Learn to love him—he’s so worthy of your love. Rha is a son to be proud of.”

She raised her hand, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her breathing sped up in agitation.

“How old are you, child? What do you know about me or my son? You know nothing about what he’s done.”

“He was born a boy when you wished for a girl. That was his first transgression. You hated him the moment he drew his first breath, and it all went down the hill from there, didn’t it? No matter what Rha did, he never could do anything right by you. You ended up favoring that snake-faced Alzali over him. Admit it, you wished she’d be your successor over him—” I cut myself short, afraid I’d gone too far.

Laying blame and accusations was not the way to win the queen’s favor.

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