Vesper was already gone by the time I woke up. His side of the bed was already cold, my hands drifted over to his side, empty. If it weren't for the evident soreness between my legs, I would've thought he hadn't even slept there at all. Even though I distinctly remember him gathering me in his arms, my naked back pressed against the warmth and hardness of his chest before I fully passed out.
He was gone. And I hate how much I'm feeling that absence as I shifted, legs tangling restlessly chasing a sensation that wasn't there anymore.
It'll only be one night, I tell myself, as I push to sit up straight just as the doors start to creak open. I grab the duvet and clutch it against my naked body, wondering who could've had the audacity to walk in just like that if it wasn't Vesper.
A familiar, middle-aged woman stepped in, trailed by a pair of her maidservants all dressed in deep red robes, reminding me of the color of blood. Healers.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," she greeted, her head bowing low, "His Majesty requested that we come and check up on you. These ladies are here to prepare you a bath," she said, shooting me a knowing look, "as usual."
I nod, remaining silent as I watch the two maidservants curtsy before heading off to the bathroom, leaving her there.
It wasn't until they were completely out of sight did she dared approach the bed, slowly revealing the small vial she had been clutching in her pocket. The realization hit me then. No wonder she had seemed so familiar. She was the healer who tried to stop us from flying back. She must know something.
"You can call me Nadine, Your Grace," she said, stopping at the foot of the bed.
"Mother Tilda sent me to keep you company when you married the King," she said, handing me a small vial. "She instructed me to give this to you, for your memories."
I take it from her, careful not to let my duvet slip.
"What is it?" I asked, staring at the vial. The blue liquid shimmering under the sunlight, as my lips part in quiet awe. Magic. It's made of magic.
"May I?" she asked, her eyes flicking to my body.
I nod, granting her silent permission. She lifts the duvet, pulling it back to my thighs, revealing wounds that should have been raw and deep. But somehow, they've already faded into scars, in the process of healing.
"You were treated by the most powerful healer in the land, Your Grace," she explained, noting my confusion. "This is still the least of her powers."
I watched, committing it to memory, as the scars began to fade. She brushed her hands over my skin, a soft green light trailing in their wake, leaving behind a cooling sensation.
"Nadine, what did you know about Feverfew?" I asked, recalling the very first memories that appear. If she knew anything about Tilda's memories, then she might know...
"It's a natural remedy for migraines, Your Grace," she said as she worked on my other leg.
"May I know why you ask?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said, shaking my head as the memory played out in my mind, "it was just a dream, though it might have been a memory, I'm not sure. I was searching for Feverfew."
A flicker of recognition passed through her eyes, then vanished, as if it had never been there.
"Can you turn for me, please, Your Grace? Let me tend to your back."
I pursed my lips as her hands hovered, hesitating just above my skin. She must have seen the bruises from last night.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, shame rising before I could push it down.
"Are migraines still plaguing you, Your Grace?" she asked, feeling the cooling sensation again, on my back.
I shake my head, knowing I've been taking them for my migraines and monthly pains from the small piece of memory. But that's not the question I really want to ask.
"From what I remember, Your Grace, you once took it faithfully for your monthly pains," she explained, the cooling sensation spreading through my shoulder blades. "Feverfew is said to ease such discomfort quite well."
I nod absentmindedly.
Ever since those memories resurfaced, I haven't been able to think of anything else. I gladly paid for it too, in a way. Though 'paid' might be too harsh of a word, considering I've thoroughly shamelessly enjoyed every second of it.
"You can ask me anything, Your Grace," she said sympathetically, before chanting a healing spell. I didn't know how I knew. But it just felt that way.
A singing heat on my back made me wince, before it cools away and I feel much better. My sight got clearer, the soreness in my body gone, along with the prominent one between my legs.
"We, healers, have taken an oath of silence, Your Grace," she said, noting my hesitation. "What passes between us and our tended would just be between us both," she added.
"Was I ever..." I swallowed hard, trying to push down the fear tightening my throat.
"Was I ever with child?" I asked, finally letting it out.
"Yes," she replied, that one word like a nail to my coffin.
Nadine stepped back to stand on the foot of my bed, with her gaze fixed on me, worry evident in her features.
"You've always come to me for contraception," she said softly. "So yes, I was the one who confirmed it."
"What happened? Am I still..."
The word lodged in my throat. Too heavy, too real. I couldn't even say it because saying it would make it true. Before I know it, my hand drifted to my lower abdomen, resting lightly over the duvet. Could it be? That would explain the pain back in the prison cell. Oh god.
"No," Nadine said it like a judge giving out a life sentence, devoid of emotion. "You've lost it," she added.
"What happened?" I breathed, feeling a single tear dripping down my cheek. Then another, and another...
Nadine watched me, confused, her lips slightly parted as if my tears were something foreign. I wiped them away with the back of my hand and sank against the headboard, feeling my strength already slipping again.
I feel violated. Like my body doesn't belong to me. Like this life I'm living...isn't truly mine at all.
"For someone who lost their memories," she began carefully, looking at me with pity in her eyes, "it's safer to let your memories come back on their own, Your Grace. Head trauma needs time to heal properly."
"Although Mother Tilda did specifically mentioned to tell you only to drink that potion once you're ready," she muttered, eyeing the way I'm looking at the potion I've been holding and let out a sigh.
"There's an old saying among midwives..." she paused, frowning deeper when she continue, "that a child won't come into this world knowing that they're not wanted."
I can't speak. I can't even breathe.
I can feel my chest, tightening and rising to my throat then I feel it. The grief and guilt all mixed together. It's choking me, curling hot behind my eyes, blurred from the tears. I sniffled, roughly rubbing them away with the back of my hand. None of this makes any sense and yet, somehow it does.
"Might I suggest you head to your bath, Your Grace?" she asked gently, pulling me away from my spiraling thoughts. "The girls should be finished with their preparations by now."
I nod, wordlessly, and swing my legs over to the edge of the bed, forcing myself to push the thoughts aside. But I had to know.
"Where's my husband, when it happened?" I asked, as she drape a blanket over my shoulders so I wouldn't have to drag my duvet all the way to the bathroom.
"Away," she revealed, causing my heart to sink further. "You both weren't in the right minds, you were running away, as well."
I was about to ask more when she ushered me towards the bathroom.
"I've instructed the maidservants to place lavender and some healing elixirs into your bath," she said in her futile attempt to distract me from the information she just revealed. My gut was right all along. I truly can't trust my own husband. My King.
"You should feel better in no time, Your Grace," she added, making me start to hate that title, just because it binds me up to him.
"Thank you, Nadine," I murmured distractedly.
I didn't know what hurt more. The loss of a child, or the possibility that one of us had killed it. Vesper wouldn't kill his own child, would he? His heir. If he claimed to love me, then surely he wouldn't. But then again, I'm not sure if I could trust him either.
The sharp scent lavender and mint pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to find the maidservants already in their places, standing around the steaming bath with their heads bowed, waiting in silence. Sometimes I wish they wouldn't look so terrified. But then again I still didn't know who I could trust, so I let them be. For now.
"Thank you for this," I said, addressing them all.
I didn't miss the way they glanced at each other, puzzled, like hearing those words from me was something unnatural.
"But Your Grace," one of them began, unable to hide the slight tremor in her voice as she curtsied, "we were given strict instructions by His Majesty to assist you."
"It's best if they stay, Your Grace," Nadine interjected from behind. "They can help you."
"Fine," I murmured, already too tired to argue.
Wordlessly, I hand one of them my towel and step into the bath. They must've been used to seeing me naked, because they didn't even bother to react at my nudity. I try to keep the heat gathering in my cheeks at bay, all the way down to the back of my neck from their attention.
Instead, I close my eyes and pretend that I'm alone as they surround me with practiced ease, lifting my hair that's already half wet from the water and goes on to massage my scalp. Despite how relaxing this may feel, it still bothers me that they know my body as almost intimately as I do. It feels too exposed, with the way they scrub the remnants of last night off of my body.
There's still some fucked-up part me that still didn't want to let go.
It wasn't until an hour or so later, that I finally find myself alone again, standing before a full-length mirror in my dressing chamber mesmerized by my own reflection. Tilting my head slightly to the side, I wonder if the woman staring back at me is truly me, for there's this sculpted serenity in her beauty. The way she exudes an aura of mystery, making anyone who sees her naturally drawn to her.
Her green eyes glow against her pale complexion, like moss under the moonlight. And with her neck and shoulders bare for all to see, her dark hair cascading down her back, she had never looked more enchanting. Could this woman really be me?
"You look beautiful, wife," said a familiar voice behind me.
Smooth, steady and entirely out of place.
I turn to find him standing there, smirking. He makes me hate just how handsome he looks. Hate the way my chest tightens at the mere sight of him, leaning against the wall nonchalantly with his arms across his chest.
It was like being struck by lightning. The way the memory of last night crashes into me, sudden and sharp, turning my blood to ice.
I've never wanted to run more than I do now.