Page 91 of A Cage of Crystal

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Who told you in the first place?”

“Lady Sera,” Cora admitted, feeling no guilt about ousting her. “She mentioned instructions your mother had given your maids, insisting that you’d conceived on your wedding night, and that they were to forbid you from drinking wine.”

“Mother.” Mareleau bit out the word like a curse.

The queen’s emotions surged against Cora’s shields again, a medley of annoyance, guilt, and grief. At least this time Cora’s nerves were more at ease, allowing her to connect with the elements and thicken her mental wards. Apparently focusing on someone else’s problems were enough to distract her from her own. As much as Cora lacked any sort of friendly feeling toward Mareleau, maybe the distraction was what she needed. And from how the woman had stopped Cora from leaving with her statement that she was with child, perhaps Mareleau needed someone to talk to.

She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be that someone. For now. She took a few steps closer. “If this was something your mother already knew about, then why do you seem so surprised?”

Mareleau narrowed her pale blue eyes, lips pursed tight. Then, with a sigh, she spoke. “I lied.”

Cora arched a brow. “About what?”

Mareleau averted her gaze and wandered to the nearest window. Lacing her fingers through her hair, she wove a messy braid as she stared with eyes that didn’t seem to see anything beyond the window. “I lied about being with child so that my father would allow me to wed Larylis.”

Silence stretched between them in the wake of her confession. Cora could hardly believe what she’d heard.

“No one else knows but Larylis—and Teryn too, now—so don’t tell anyone.” Her voice was nearly monotone, devoid of the barbed ire Cora expected from her.

Cora moved closer and lowered her voice. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because my lie no longer matters. It’s true now.”

“And you aren’t happy about that?”

Mareleau shook her head, lips curved down in a frown. “I’m not ready. I wanted more time with my husband. More time to…just be a woman in love. My parents kept me and Larylis apart for three years. Now that I have him, I just wanted it to be us for a while.” She shifted her gaze to Cora. “You think I’m selfish, don’t you?”

Cora could tell her that this new development neither added nor subtracted from her opinion of her. She expected the queen to be selfish. Cold. Haughty. That was all Mareleau had shown of herself so far.

Instead of saying that, she admitted something that hit far closer to home. “At least your position as queen is secure. You’ve managed to fulfill your singular duty.”

“No,” Mareleau said, whirling toward Cora with a clenched jaw. “I haven’t fulfilled my duty, I’ve only taken the first step. The first of many exhausting steps, and one I wasn’t even ready to take. Do you know what happens next? Next everyone will speculate whether it’s a boy. When I birth my child, I’ll be praised if it is. If not, I’ll be consoled. Then I’ll be expected to try again. Again. Again.”

For the first time, Cora found herself able to relate to the queen. She too felt the burdens of such a role. But she wasn’t ready to express their similarities. “It doesn’t need to be a boy. You and I are both women and heirs.”

Mareleau snorted a humorless laugh. “Are we though? Are we truly heirs? You know how they judge us. How they see us as less than a male heir.”

Cora wasn’t sure who Mareleau’s use oftheyreferred to. The people in general? Her parents? Her uncles? She supposed it didn’t matter, for all were likely true.

Mareleau’s tone turned sharper. “My father was so afraid of what my uncles would do to me as his heir. According to him, the only way I can keep my throne is if Larylis and I merge our kingdoms upon Father’s death. Had I tried to rule as queen with only a consort of a lesser title at my side, my uncles would have fought to take my birthright. He went so far as to suggest they’d kill me for it.”

Cora suppressed a shudder. The men she spoke of—Kevan and Ulrich—now had a stranglehold on Khero’s council, on her very kingdom. She knew they were overly ambitious men, but were they truly as devious as Mareleau had said?

The queen seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “I wonder if he positioned them as your councilmen for this exact reason. To have them so preoccupied in your kingdom that I might have a fighting chance at keeping mine.”

Cora bristled. Mother Goddess, was she right? She hadn’t gotten the impression that Verdian thought too highly of his daughter, but what if he’d had more than one motive in appointing his brothers to Dimetreus’ council?

Mareleau turned back toward the window. “Whatever the case, it isn’t fair. Why must this be all we’re worth as royal women? As nothing more than vehicles for our kingdoms’ future kings. Why are we not kings ourselves?”

Cora nearly sagged with the weight of her words. With the truth of them. Yet Mareleau had something Cora didn’t. “Being with child may not be something you’re ready for, and it may be unfair that bearing heirs is expected of you, but what else can you do? At least with an heir, regardless of gender, you hold a weapon against your uncles’ claims to your birthright.”

Her lips lifted in a sneer. “Children shouldn’t be weapons. Or pawns. Or…anything but what they are.”

Cora’s mouth snapped shut. Again, she found herself agreeing with her. Understanding her. But what was there to do about it? Mareleau was in a position where she could rebel against the norms. She was already queen. Her husband was king. An heir was on the way. How would she feel in Cora’s position, if the choice and capability were taken away from her like it had been done to Cora?

Anger heated Cora’s blood, and she let it rise. It felt better than feeling lost. Uncertain. Trapped. “You know what? You are selfish. No, children shouldn’t be weapons or pawns, but here you are complaining when you could be grateful you can have children at all. Do you know what it’s like for royal women with the opposite problem?”

Mareleau scoffed. “No, do you?”

---