Chapter 3

To keep up the charade of a loving royal couple, Juliana made it a point to slip into my chambers every single day after court.

She would shut every door and window so tightly that not even a fly could get in.

At first, I thought she was coming to check on my back, but the moment she walked through the door, she collapsed onto the chaise lounge like a mummy drained of its last breath.

She said, "Mia, I'm gonna lose it. Those old geezers spent the whole day lecturing me about some irrigation project. I'm a science major. All I wanted to do was calculate the acceleration it'd take to launch them all into the sun."

I slapped the jar of ointment against her face. "Shut up and help me first."

Juliana shot upright, her eyes suddenly gleaming. "Time to rock the bed again?"

That was right. To keep the servants stationed outside from getting suspicious, we had to put on a full performance every single night.

Juliana's job was to crouch down and shake the heavy oak bed frame back and forth until it creaked and groaned against the floor.

My job was to pinch my throat and deliver the most Oscar-worthy voice acting of my entire life. "Yes, Your Majesty, not so rough—"

Juliana kept rocking but shot me a look. "Mia, that was pathetic. Zero passion. Alexander next door is gonna think I skipped dinner."

I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at her head. "You think you can do better? You don't even have the hardware, you fake king. What do you know about passion?"

Juliana caved immediately and wiped the sweat off her forehead as she picked up the pace. "Okay, okay, my bad. How's this rhythm? I guarantee the whole palace will think I'm a stallion."

And so it went in the depths of the silent palace. One of us shook the bed until her arms went numb, and the other moaned until her voice gave out.

It wasn't until the middle of the night, when we were sure the guards on watch had wandered far enough away, that we finally collapsed onto the mattress like two dead dogs and burst out laughing.

Some days, I really couldn't tell whether we were the ones fooling the old world, or the old world was the one fooling us.

*****

Even though Alexander and I had gone at it like the world was ending that night, my body had other plans. Nothing happened.

Two weeks later, my period showed up right on schedule.

I stared at the evidence and grabbed Juliana, fighting the urge to cry. "The plan failed. No baby."

Juliana bit into a blueberry scone without a care in the world. "Why are you panicking? Getting pregnant on the first try only happens in those billionaire romance novels. We're living in literary realism here."

She brushed the crumbs off her fingers, and her eyes turned sharp. "If once didn't work, we try again. Alexander's built like a warhorse. It'd be a waste not to use him."

That evening, I blew the silver whistle engraved with the griffin crest.

Before long, a jet-black carrier pigeon landed on the windowsill with a tiny scroll case strapped to its leg.

My hands trembled as I scrawled a single line: [The tonic has worn off. I need another session. Meet me at the west chamber tonight.]

The pigeon had barely been gone ten minutes before it fluttered back.

The reply was one word in bold, sweeping handwriting: [Granted.]

I changed into a plain handmaiden's dress and slipped through the moonlit corridors toward the west chamber.

Alexander was already there, leaning against the wall in a fitted black tunic that made him look like a drawn sword. Tall, still, and radiating an intensity that pressed against the air itself.

I was about to go through the same routine as last time, but he raised a hand to stop me. A slow, teasing smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

He said, "Your Grace, last time I did all the work. Since you're the one who came asking this time, shouldn't we change things up?"

I froze. Heat flooded my face in an instant. "Change things up how?"

Alexander stepped closer. His warm breath grazed the side of my neck, and his voice dropped low, smooth as aged whiskey. "You get on top. You do the work."

My brain short-circuited.

Alexander, that closet freak, was really going to make me do this.

But one thought of Juliana's shaky grip on the throne, and I swallowed my pride, climbed on top of him, and cursed Juliana a thousand times over in my head.