CHAPTER SEVEN: THE THINGS HE WOULDN'T PROMISE

~~LUCY'S POV~~

I stared at the prince, waiting for him to say something else.

Anything else.

But his question hung in the air between us like smoke after a fire.

*Are you certain the child is mine?*

My fingers tightened around the blanket in my lap. I wanted to look away. I wanted to look anywhere but at him. Yet his golden eyes held me in place, moving over my face as though he expected to find a lie written across it.

The physician stood beside the bed, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

"Your Highness," he began carefully, "the timing suggests the child could be yours. However, I cannot make a definite confirmation at this stage."

Draven's expression didn't flicker.

"Then we'll wait until you can."

"Of course, Your Highness."

I lowered my eyes.

I don't know what I had expected. Perhaps, foolishly, I had hoped for concern. Even a flicker of surprise. Instead, he looked at me the way a man looks at a problem that has landed on his desk, something to be measured, managed and eventually solved.

"Will the child be all right?" I asked quietly.

The physician turned to me, and his voice gentled. "We cannot know everything yet, my lady. But you must rest, eat properly, and avoid anything that might put unnecessary strain on your body."

I nodded.

"And if I feel sick again?"

"Send for me at once."

"All right."

Draven moved away from the window, his boots silent against the polished floor. Every step seemed deliberate, as though even the carpet knew better than to make a sound in his presence.

"How long will the examination take?"

"I would like to perform a few more tests tomorrow, Your Highness. The first reading was unusual, and I would prefer to understand it properly."

*Unusual.* The word slid down my spine like a drop of cold water.

"Do that," Draven said.

The physician bowed.

I drew a slow breath. Then, because I couldn't carry it alone for another second, I looked up.

"Can I ask you something?"

His eyes moved to me. "Speak."

I hesitated, rubbing my thumb along the edge of the blanket until the stitching bit into my skin.

"I want to know how my sister is doing."

His face gave nothing away. "I haven't received any information about her."

"Could someone go and see her?" My voice came out softer than I meant it to. "Just to check that she's all right."

"I'll think about it."

I waited for more.

There was no more.

"Please," I added. "She isn't well. I don't know if she's taking her medicine, or if the hospital needs anything else."

"I said I'll think about it, Lucy."

He hadn't raised his voice. He didn't need to. The quiet was enough to close my mouth like a hand.

I looked down at my hands.

I didn't want to argue. I didn't even want to be in this room anymore. I wanted to be home, sitting beside Molly's bed, tucking her blanket under her chin and watching her breathe. Instead, I was lying in a stranger's bed, carrying a child I never expected, while the man who might be its father questioned whether it belonged to him.

I made myself try again.

"I need to send money," I whispered.

His gaze sharpened. "What?"

"For my sister's treatment." I swallowed. "I need to be sure she has everything. If she has another appointment, I can't let her miss it."

He studied me for a long moment.

"I'll consider it."

My head came up. "Consider it?"

"Yes."

"But she's my sister."

"And I've heard you."

I stared at him, struggling to understand how he could say it so calmly. As though Molly were a matter of scheduling. As though her pain could be placed on a shelf until he found the time.

"She needs her treatment, Your Highness. I can't stay here pretending everything is fine when I don't even know what's happening to her."

"You are in no position to make demands."

The words landed like a slap.

I pressed my lips together until they hurt.

"I wasn't making demands," I said, steadier than I felt. "I was asking you to help me."

"And I told you I'll consider it."

My eyes began to burn.

I had tried to be patient. I had tried so hard not to anger him. I had swallowed every sharp word since the moment I woke in this room. But Molly was the one thing I couldn't set aside simply because I had been carried into a palace.

"Why do you keep saying that?" My voice trembled. "You have people who could do this in minutes. You could send someone to the hospital. You could send the money. For you, it would be nothing."

His expression hardened to stone.

"Be careful, Lucy."

My breathing turned ragged. "I *am* being careful. I'm trying to do everything you ask. But you won't even tell me whether my sister is alive and well."

"Enough."

"No, it's not enough!" The words tore out of me before I could stop them, loud and cracked and far too raw. "She's all I have! She's sick, and I'm sitting here wondering if she's even taken her medicine, while everyone tells me to wait!"

The room fell silent.

The physician lowered his gaze to the floor.

Regret struck almost instantly, but I couldn't take the words back. My chest ached. Tears blurred the edges of everything, and I hated that he was watching me come apart.

Draven stared at me.

For one suspended heartbeat, I thought he might speak. A muscle shifted along his jaw. Something moved behind his eyes, there and gone, too quick to name.

Then it was gone, and his face was ice again.

"You will rest," he said.

I shook my head. "That isn't what I'm asking."

He turned toward the door.

"Your Highness," the physician called, stepping forward.

Draven didn't answer. He simply walked out, and the door swung wide behind him.

The physician hurried after him, clutching his bag.

Elara, who had stood silent beside the doorway through all of it, followed. At the threshold, she glanced back at me. Her expression softened for one fleeting second, but she said nothing. She only drew the door closed, quietly, as though the sound might break something.

And then I was alone.

I sat staring at the shut door while my pulse slowly stopped roaring in my ears.

I hadn't meant to shout. I hated raising my voice, especially when I was already frightened and lost. But I couldn't understand why something as small as checking on my sister had to become another thing that required his permission.

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.

My gaze drifted down to my stomach. There was no visible change. Nothing about me looked different.

Yet everything had changed.

A child was growing inside me.

A child whose father couldn't even look at me without wondering if it was his.

Slowly, I laid my palm against my stomach.

"I don't know what to do," I whispered.

The room gave no answer.

I thought of Molly instead. Her small, shy smile whenever I brought her something she liked. The way she pretended not to be in pain the moment she noticed I was worried. The way she would ask whether *I* had eaten, even while she lay in a hospital bed.

A fresh tear slipped down my cheek.

I missed her. And I was beginning to hate how far away she felt.

I leaned back against the pillows, trying to steady my breathing.

For now, I had no choice but to wait.

But I couldn't stay here forever without knowing whether my sister was safe.