01 A Throne Without an Heir

Cassandra's POV

The royal doctor’s office smelled of antiseptic and silence. I sat on the edge of the plush leather chair, my fingers twisting around the strap of my purse, nerves buzzing through my body like static.

Year four.

Four years of waiting. Of hoping. Of missing my period, clutching tests, and praying. And every single time, the results had been negative.

It wasn’t just disappointment anymore. It was erosion.

My marriage. My heart. My dignity.

Richard had grown distant, as if each failed pregnancy pulled him one step further from me. We were still married, but the word wife had become more ceremonial than real. Divorce wasn’t permitted in the royal circle. So we stayed together, sinking, each of us chained to a vow neither wanted anymore.

The door opened.

“Good afternoon, Lady Valemont. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Dr. Reynold entered with my file in hand. He smiled, but his eyes carried the kind of concern that always came before bad news.

My stomach twisted. You never really got used to this. The ache of waiting for words that might ruin you. But still, I hoped. Always.

He sat across from me. “You need to take it easy, Your Highness. There’s no harm in continuing to try, but I admit I was surprised to see you today. I thought you and your husband agreed to take a break. And I don’t recall administering any IVF this cycle. What makes you think you’re pregnant?”

My throat tightened. “I missed my period. It’s been three weeks. At first I thought it was hormones again, but I need to be sure.”

He nodded. “Very well. We’ll take a blood sample. The lab tech isn’t in yet, so the result will be ready tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Another endless night.

I didn’t even flinch when the nurse came in with the tray. After years of needles, I barely felt them anymore.

Richard didn’t come with me. He hadn’t in a long time. At first he missed one appointment, then another, until he stopped pretending altogether.

I left the palace clinic with nothing but hope pressed tight against my ribs.

Diana was waiting when I returned. She always was. My handmaid, yes, but more than that, the one constant in a life where loyalty was currency no one seemed willing to pay.

“How did it go?” she asked softly as she helped me slip into the bath.

“I won’t know until tomorrow,” I murmured.

Her sigh was quiet, but it carried the weight of years. “Do you think His Highness will be coming home tonight?”

I shrugged. “I barely know what he does these days.”

“It’s unfair.”

“Don’t let it trouble you, Diana. At least I still have you.”

Her smile was sad but warm. “Always, my lady.”

At least I wasn’t completely alone.

But I was lonely.

Pain had become so familiar, I wore it like perfume. The palace was beautiful, but beauty was nothing when it was filled with silence.

That night, Richard came home.

He didn’t announce himself. He just slipped into our bed like a stranger seeking warmth. His hands were hungry, his mouth desperate.

I didn’t stop him. His presence was rare these days, and rarer still was his touch. I took what I could get, even if it wasn’t love anymore.

His kisses reminded me of who he used to be, the boy who once made me laugh at court banquets, the man who had whispered forever into my ear when we were young and foolish enough to believe in it.

And for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe again.

When it was over, I lay on his chest, listening to the beat of a heart that wasn’t mine anymore. His fingers threaded through my hair.

“I didn’t know you’d be back tonight,” I whispered.

“Hmmn,” he replied.

That sound wasn’t an answer. It was avoidance.

I sat up, searching his face. “What is it?”

He caught my hand. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Sandra. You mean the world to me.”

It sounded like love, but I knew better.

“You know how much I want to be the crowned prince of Eldenwald,” he continued, voice steady, almost rehearsed. “But our childless situation is… a problem.”

Ivana. His mother’s voice echoed through him.

I thought about telling him about the doctor’s visit, the test, the fragile hope I clutched like a lifeline. But I didn’t.

“No one wants a king without an heir. The court thinks you’re barren.”

The slap left my palm stinging, the echo bouncing off the walls.

How dare he.

How dare he call me barren after every blood test, every failed IVF, every miscarriage that left me broken and bleeding.

It wasn’t me alone. It was him too. His low sperm count had forced us into IVF in the first place. But who carried the pain? Who carried the shame? Me.

I might not have carried a child to term, but I wasn’t barren. I was still here. Still fighting. Still hopeful.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling me back into his arms. “I know it’s hard. But let’s face it, ”

“Face what?” I cut in, my voice sharp. “Skip the soft words and say it.”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I’m just telling you how I feel.”

It wasn’t truth. It was half a confession, choked down before it reached his lips.

“My brothers will be in court next week,” he said after a moment. “I need your father’s support. Most people think Father plans to crown Arden, but many oppose it. His mother was a commoner.”

I stayed silent. I didn’t care. If I had my way, Arden would be crowned. He was the rightful heir, the first son. But in Eldenwald, birthright meant less than influence.

“Your mother thinks your father will only listen to you,” Richard continued. “She asked me to have you speak with him tomorrow.”

Of course she did. My father had always been Ivana’s pawn. And through me, she got what she wanted.

Then Richard said, “No matter what happens… your position as queen will never be threatened. You won’t be replaced. I promise.”

I frowned. “Why would that even be a concern?”

He glanced away, just for a second. But it was enough.

“You know… as King, people may present their daughters. To help produce an heir. Because of your condition.”

I laughed. Bitter. Ugly. “You mean our condition.”

He didn’t deny it.

“So tell me,” I pressed. “Have they presented someone already? Is that what tonight was? Your desperate kisses, your sudden warmth, was it a bribe, Richard?”

“No. Not at all. Just… saying.”

I straightened, my voice cold. “Listen carefully. If you betray me, you won’t keep anything you gained through me. Don’t think I make idle threats. No one is invincible. Not even a king.”

He smiled faintly, trying to disarm me, drawing me back into his arms like he always did.

“You’re too hot-tempered for your own good, Cassandra. You’ll always have my heart. Always and forever, remember?”

But I didn’t answer.

Because no matter how soft his words were, I could feel it.

The crown was all he saw now.

And love had slipped through his fingers.

By the time he fell asleep beside me, my body was still, my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling gilded with gold leaf.

I had no crown.

No child.

Just silence.

And silence, I was beginning to realise, was the loudest betrayal of all.