Chapter 72: Chapter 73: coming clean

Elara’s POV

I woke to the sound of curtains being drawn back, letting pale morning light spill across my chambers. The sudden brightness made my stomach lurch, and I pressed my hand over my mouth, willing myself not to be sick.

Not again. Not this morning.

The nausea had been getting worse, not better. Every morning for weeks now, the same routine. Wake up, fight down the urge to vomit, force myself to face another day of pretending everything was normal. Another day of hiding the secret growing inside me.

“Your Majesty.” Lena’s voice was quiet, professional. Distant. “Your bath is ready. The council meets in two hours.”

I forced myself to sit up slowly, taking careful breaths through my nose. The nausea was worst in the mornings, a rolling wave that made even the thought of food unbearable. Gradually it would ease as the day went on, settling into a dull discomfort I could manage. But those first few hours after waking felt like torture.

“Thank you, Lena.”

She moved about the room with practiced efficiency, her footsteps soft on the stone floor. Laying out my clothes for the day. A deep blue gownformal enough for council but not so elaborate it would take forever to put on. Simple slippers. The right undergarments. Everything arranged just so.

She knew my preferences perfectly after all these years. Knew exactly what I needed before I had to ask.

But she wouldn’t look at me.

I watched her work, guilt twisting in my chest alongside the nausea. Days since I’d snapped at her. Days since I’d said , “that’s Your Majesty” like she was nothing more than a servant, like years of friendship meant nothing.

She deserved better than that. After everything, after years of being my confidant, my support, the one person in this palace who’d known me before I was queen, I’d treated her like she meant nothing.

“Lena,” I started, then stopped. What could I even say? I’m sorry I’ve been cruel? I’m sorry I’m pregnant and terrified and taking it out on you because you’re safe to hurt? I’m sorry I can’t tell you the truth even though you’re the only person I trust?

She paused in folding a shawl, waiting. Her back was to me, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.

“I…” The words stuck in my throat like stones. “I wanted to apologize. For the other day. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It was wrong of me.”

“You’re the queen, Your Majesty.” Her voice was carefully neutral. Controlled. “You can speak to anyone however you wish. It’s your right.”

The formality stung worse than anger would have. If she’d yelled at me, if she’d called me out, if she’d shown any emotion at all, that would have been easier. This cold distance was like a knife.

“That’s not…” I stood, ignoring the way my head swam slightly, the momentary dizziness that always came with rising too fast. “Lena, please. Can we not do this? Can we just–”

“Do what, Your Majesty?” She finally turned to look at me, and I was startled by what I saw in her eyes. Not anger. Not even hurt, exactly. Something worse. Exhaustion. Something broken and tired, like she’d been fighting a battle she couldn’t win. “Pretend the past week didn’t happen? Pretend you haven’t been pushing everyone away, including me? Pretend everything is fine when clearly it’s not, when anyone with eyes can see something is wrong?”

I wanted to tell her. God, I wanted to tell her everything. About the pregnancy. About the physician in the lower city. About the fear that kept me awake at night, wondering how I was going to hide this, how I was going to rule a kingdom while growing a child inside me that could destroy everything if anyone found out. About the father of that child, the man I’d dismissed and pushed away and still couldn’t stop thinking about.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because telling Lena meant admitting it out loud. Meant making it real in a way it hadn’t been when it was just me and my secret terror in the dark. Meant trusting someone else with a truth that could be used to destroy me.

“I know I’ve been difficult,” I said instead, the words feeling small and inadequate. “I know I’ve been… unfair to you. But I need you to understand–”

“I understand perfectly.” She turned back to the wardrobe, pulled out a pair of slippers and set them by the bed. “You’re under tremendous pressure. The council, King Thorin, Malakor’s collapse, this Voice person causing problems in the city. You’re stressed and exhausted and taking it out on the people closest to you because that’s what people do when they’re overwhelmed. I’ve seen it before.”

It was all true. And none of it was the whole truth.

“It’s more than that,” I said quietly. “It’s not just stress.”

“Is it?” She still wouldn’t look at me. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve decided to handle everything alone. Push everyone away. Prove you don’t need anyone’s help or support or friendship. Build walls so high no one can climb them.”

“That’s not–” I stopped. Because maybe it was true. Maybe I had been pushing people away. Firing Kaelen. Snapping at Lena. Keeping Corvus at arm’s length despite elevating him to the highest position in my council. Building walls because letting anyone close meant risking them seeing what I was desperately trying to hide.

I stood again, moved toward her. “Lena, please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need… I need you. As my friend, not just as–”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted us.

We both froze.

“Your Majesty.” A guard’s voice from the corridor. One of the royal guards taking their turn at my door while Corvus searched for a permanent replacement. “Urgent message from Lord Corvus. He requests your immediate presence in the council chamber. He says it cannot wait.”

My heart sank. Urgent. Nothing good ever followed that word in my experience. Urgent meant crisis. Urgent meant something else had gone wrong. Urgent meant another problem to add to the mountain already crushing me.

“I’ll be there shortly,” I called back, already moving toward the wardrobe where Lena had laid out my clothes.

“He said immediately, Your Majesty.” The guard’s voice was apologetic but firm. Through the door, I could picture them standing at attention, uncomfortable with delivering such an urgent message but following orders. “He was very clear. It concerns The Voice. There’s been another development.”

Lena and I exchanged glances. For a moment, the wall between us thinned. We’d been friends long enough that she could read the worry in my face, and I could see the concern in hers despite the distance of the past days.

“You should go,” she said quietly, already moving to help me dress. “I’ll have breakfast sent to the council chamber. You can eat while you work.”

“I’m not hungry–”

“You need to eat something.” Firm. Almost like the old Lena, the one who’d bullied me into taking care of myself when I got too focused on other things. The one who’d sat with me through long nights and reminded me to sleep. “Even if it’s just bread and tea. You can’t make decisions on an empty stomach. You’ll make yourself sick”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her that food just made the nausea worse, that the smell of breakfast had been making me sick for weeks, that the thought of eating anything right now made my stomach roll dangerously.

But the guard was waiting. Corvus was waiting. Whatever new news about The Voice was urgent enough to summon me before I’d even properly dressed demanded my attention.

“Help me with the gown,” I said instead. “Quickly.”

Lena moved to assist, her hands practiced and efficient as she helped me out of my nightdress and into the formal gown. Her fingers worked the laces with the ease of years of practice, tightening the bodice just enough to be secure without restricting my breathing.

“Lena,” I said as she worked. “What I was trying to say earlier–”

“Can wait.” She stepped back, assessing the fit, adjusting a fold here, a drape there. “Whatever it is, Your Majesty, it can wait until after you’ve dealt with this crisis. The Voice isn’t going to stop just because we need to talk.”

But I could see in her eyes that she knew. Maybe not the specific truth, but she knew I was hiding something. Knew there was more I wasn’t saying. Knew that my apologies and attempts to reconnect were covering something deeper.

“When this is over,” I promised. “When I get back from the council meeting, we’ll talk. Properly. I’ll tell you everything.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

She helped me pin my hair back in a simple style, no time for elaborate arrangements when Corvus was waiting. A few quick twists, a couple of pins, and it was done. Then she handed me the circlet that marked my office, the simple band of gold that felt heavier every time I put it on.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Pale. Tired. Dark circles under my eyes that no amount of powder could hide. The circlet sitting heavy on my head like the weight of everything I was carrying pressed down through it.

A queen about to face another crisis while hiding a secret that could destroy her.

“You look every inch a ruler,” Lena said softly from behind me. “Strong. Capable. Ready to face whatever comes.”

It was the kindest thing she’d said to me in days. The most like the old Lena, the friend who’d always known exactly what I needed to hear.

I turned to face her, my heart full of things I couldn’t say. “Thank you.”

Another knock. More insistent this time.

“Your Majesty, Lord Corvus insists–”

“I’m coming!” I called, louder than necessary.

I looked at Lena one more time. Wanted to say something, anything, that would bridge the distance between us. That would let her know I valued her, trusted her, needed her friendship more than ever. That would prepare her for the truth I was going to share when I returned.

“We’ll talk,” I said again. “I promise. When I return.”

I didn’t wait for her response. Just moved to the door, where the guard stood at attention, hand on their sword hilt, ready to escort me through the palace.

“Lead the way.”

We walked quickly through the corridors, my mind already shifting from personal matters to political ones. The Voice. The attacks. Whatever new threat had Corvus summoning me before dawn, before I’d even broken my fast.

But part of me stayed in that chamber. With Lena’s quiet efficiency and careful distance. With the confession I’d been trying to make and the wall I couldn’t seem to break through.

With the secret growing inside me that I’d almost, almost told her.

When this is over, I promised myself. When I get back from this meeting, I’ll tell her. I’ll trust her with the truth.

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