already forgotten their conversation
and was once more fascinated with
her belly. Sighing, she closed her
eyes. She had to find a way to make
him listen.
***
to having her way. In fact, from the
moment that Ragan, one of the
wizards her father had consulted, had
told her she would be Queen of
Morden, she’d begun to order
everyone about. She’d only been
fifteen
when
Ragan
made
his
premonition, but from that moment,
she’d been treated like a queen. Being
that her father was one of the most
powerful chieftains in the North, the
people had been willing to accept that
his daughter acted like a born
princess. Some had murmured about
it, some had even laughed at her
actions, saying she thought herself on
par with royalty, but it was she who’d
had the last laugh, although it seemed
ages in coming.
Months after Ragan’s prophecy,
Frederick married Eleanor, and Lydia
had felt her world crash down about
her. Ragan had been brought before
her father but he’d maintained his
sight was accurate and Lydia would
be queen. After three years passed
and Eleanor was still queen, Lydia
took matters into her own hands. By
this time, she was eighteen and ripe
for marriage. She’d bypassed Ragan
and taken up her cause with Zora, one
of the women branded witch for all
her evil deeds and sent further into the
mountains to die. She’d found Zora
easily, as the witch had taken a liking
to the ambitious young girl who
wanted to be queen, and had made
her request. Days later, a vial was
delivered to her. It contained a moss-
green liquid. A small parchment was
attached to it. It read, “One drop.”
Lydia understood.
When King Frederick demanded
that Alfric Dakar come to Morden
Castle to pay fealty, Lydia had begged
her father to take her. She’d smiled
lovingly at the old man, had told him
that perhaps after seeing her face,
Frederick would cast aside his wife
and take her instead. Her father was
persuaded, as he always was when it
came to his only daughter, and they
travelled to Morden Castle.
After bowing to both king and
queen, Alfric had presented his son
followed by his daughter. Frederick’s
eyes had been cold as steel as he
surveyed them, and Lydia was
beginning to feel odd that the man
wasn’t reacting to her beauty when
Eleanor
spoke.
She
was
kind,
complimenting Alfric on having such
handsome children. And then, as
Lydia watched, Eleanor had turned to
Frederick, who’d turned to face the
queen as she spoke. A forced smile
had broken out across Frederick’s lips
as he added a compliment of his own.
Eleanor had invited Lydia to have
afternoon tea with the ladies of the
court, and feeling shame that her
beauty had failed to capture the
attention of the one man she wanted,
Lydia had reluctantly agreed.
She had tea with Eleanor every day
for the week they remained in
Morden City, and every time she
found an opportunity, she slipped a
drop of green liquid into the queen’s
cup. She even contemplated giving the
green liquid to the active toddler who
was usually escaping the clutches of
his governess, but decided that it
would be too risky. Lydia was
disappointed when she left to go back
to the mountains and Eleanor was still
healthy. But weeks later, word
reached her that the queen was ill
with a cough. Eleanor was strong
though, because she lived for long
months with it. When she finally
succumbed, Lydia was ecstatic, and
went to pay another visit to Zora, this
time for a different type of potion.
The call to the chieftains came once
again from the king but Lydia
persuaded her father to ignore it.
Months later, Frederick himself rode
onto their lands, with hundreds of
soldiers at his beck and call. He’d
been angry, raging angry, and had told
her father in quite brutal terms that if
he did not bow to his king, he would
cut him down where he stood and
appoint another chieftain.
Unaccustomed to being set-down
before his people, Alfric had turned a
bright shade of red, and Lydia had
stepped before him, inviting the king
into their keep, and ordering the
servants to see to his men-at-arms.
Frederick had almost dismissed her
until she stepped closer to him and
gently took the reins of his horse.
From then on, it had been simple. He,
along with some of his warriors,
joined them for supper, and Lydia had
slipped the entire vial of the potion
into his drink. By nightfall, she’d
claimed him as her own. Weeks later,
they were married, and a few weeks
after that, she was heading to her new
home. Everything had finally been set
right, but for one thing: Vulcan.
Lydia had still had the potion she’d
used against his mother and with her
unlimited access to him, had thought
to put a few drops into his milk. That
was
more
difficult
than
she
anticipated. Frederick watched him
like a hawk, and appointed warriors,
and even servants, to do the same in
his stead. Even she was not allowed to
be alone with his precious heir.
Gradually, Frederick stopped coming
to her bed. At times she would find
him staring at her with hatred blazing
in his eyes, and she’d visit Zora once
more. When she returned, he’d be
unable to resist her, and it was
through such occasions, Varian was
conceived. She’d made a few more
attempts on Vulcan, but they had not
seen fruition because of the close
watch Frederick kept on his son.
When Frederick began to train him,
she looked on helplessly as he grew
strong and untouchable. Although
she’d disliked the genuine love the
brothers shared, she could do nothing
about it that would not draw
suspicion.
So she’d bided her time. Frederick
died, barely days after her son passed
his eighteenth year, and Vulcan had
been named king. Lydia had known
true fear. She and Vulcan had never
been on good terms and with him
being king, and unpredictable, perhaps
even more so than his father, she
hadn’t wanted to chance any part of
his wrath. But when she’d tried to
convince Varian to go with her to
Winterly, her son had refused, saying
that he wished to stay with his brother
and serve his king. So she’d left
Varian, and had continued to plot
ways to destroy Vulcan. She sent
mercenaries after him, but they were
cut down easily. She even paid
whores to slip Zora’s concoction into
his drink, but Vulcan was careful,
even when he took his pleasure. He
would drink nothing that wasn’t
poured by his own hand.
And so her plots failed, until a few
years ago, she thought of the perfect
one. Calista. If she could get Vulcan
to marry Calista, all of her problems
would be solved. After months, even
years of marriage, Vulcan would
begin to trust his wife, and Calista
would poison him. Lydia would not
have to worry about her niece
conceiving the next heir to throne,
because Calista could not, the result of
a terrible and almost terminal sickness
she’d had as a child. It was a beautiful
plan, and she’d let Calista know only
parts of it. She knew that her aunt
wished for a marriage between her
and Vulcan but did not know why.
But then Lydia had found out that
Vulcan had married a Lytherian
princess, and her plans had changed.
The months she’d stayed away from
the new queen were spent creating a
new plan, which she’d already set into
motion.
A crooked smile touched her lips as
she remembered the story she’d
related to Jaisyn. Frederick might have
been a cold, unfeeling bastard to her,
but never to Eleanor. The week she’d
spent visiting the castle had alerted her
that the match between Frederick and
Eleanor, while it had not started out
that way, was one of love. He’d been
cold to Lydia, had only suffered her
because of Zora’s potions, while she’d
secretly pined, hoping that one day he
would look upon her as he did
Eleanor, without the use of a witch’s
serum.
Lydia knew Jaisyn loved Vulcan,
and that he felt for her. But she had to
dissolve any feelings they shared in
order to make way for her niece. So,
she’d put doubt into Jaisyn’s heart
and although the younger woman had
not reacted as Lydia had anticipated,
she knew her words would plague the
young queen.
Lifting her hand, Lydia stared at the
small glass vial between her fingers. It
was filled to the brim with a golden
liquid she’d received from Zora a few
months ago. Soon, she would carry
out the second part of her plan, and
everything would be right once more.
How appropriate it was that the same
thing she had done to the father would
be done to the son.
***
Vulcan’s eyes were glued to the
missive that had just arrived from
Montak. Two weeks ago, he’d sent
out two important parchments: one to
Montak; the other to Lytheria. The
first response had just come and as he
read the words, a smile touched his
lips. Bael was in agreement with his
proposal. He folded the paper and
placed
it
with
the
numerous
parchments on his desk. He would
wait for Varian’s response to alert his
wife of his plans. The smile on his lips
faded as that thought entered his
mind. He already knew she would not
like it.
***
Jaisyn was ecstatic when the
evening of the last ball of the Season
arrived. Along with Lydia and their
ladies, she oversaw the preparations.
The dress she’d intended to wear for
the ball had been substituted for
another gown, as it would have
pressed down too much on her
swollen belly. At five months, her
belly was only growing larger, and at
a faster rate. She wore a sleeveless
red and cream gown that cinched her
under her breasts and flowed freely to
her toes, leaving her belly free from
the constraints of corsets. It was
probably the first of its kind made and
Lydia had assured her that by the next
Season, it would be copied in all
corners of the kingdom.
Her thick hair had been brushed for
long hours and pulled up in an
elaborate style that allowed for the
bejeweled golden crown upon her
head. The conversation she’d had
with Lydia had been dismissed; the
lady acted as if she’d said nothing to
Jaisyn. Although Jaisyn wished to
breach the subject once more, she had
come to the decision that Lydia had
had her best interest at heart and had
just been trying to warn her. After
being married to Frederick for many
years, it was no wonder the former
queen had the opinions she did. So,
she put it from her mind, or at least
tried to, and watched as both Isolde
and Mathilda, but mostly Mathilda,
danced
gaily
with
the
eligible
gentlemen there.
Her
attention
was
particularly
focused on a gangly but tall man who