All Chapters of The Heir's Secret Child: A Royal Scandal: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

**MYRKON**Catherine woke to the sound of roosters in the streets, their calls sharp through the thin walls of the tavern she shared with her mother. The dawn light slanted pale across the floorboards as she rubbed her eyes and yawned.Elizabeth was already up, folding her work uniform with quick, practiced hands, her face set in the lines of another day at Mira’s tubs.“You’ll be all right?” Elizabeth asked. Her palm rested on Catherine’s shoulder, warm and steady.Catherine nodded, sitting up slowly. “Lena’s fair. It's better than the laundry house, so I’ll manage.”Elizabeth’s eyes searched her face, then dropped to her belly. “Tea’s still warm on the table. Chamomile and mint. Drink it all, okay?” She squeezed once more. “Be careful, dear.”“I will.” Catherine watched her mother stand up and leave, the door clicking shut behind her.She listened to her footsteps as she descended the narrow stairs, the sound fading away slowly.As part of her new habit, she pressed her hand to her

**MYRKON**The morning sun slanted low through Lena’s shop windows, catching motes of dust above the worktable where Catherine bent over, working on a child’s dress.The fabric was finer than that of yesterday’s shirt and the seams were narrower. Lena had just started to trust her with more complex work. This was her first try.Her needle moved seamlessly, but her fingers fumbled halfway down the sleeve—a knot she couldn’t tease loose. She tugged the thread harder than she meant to.Snap!Lena looked up from across the room where she was pressing a cloth. “Again?” she asked.Catherine set the needle down. “I’m sorry, Lena,” she apologized. “It’s smaller than I’m used to.”Lena wiped her hands on her apron and crossed over. She peered at the tear, then back at Catherine. “The cloth is too loose for the harsh sea. Unpick it and start again.”Catherine’s chest tightened with shame, but she nodded and reached for a small blade to slice the thread. She worked the blade carefully along the

**ELDORIA**Isla sat at a small table by the window in the tea shop, just off the main market street. Shelves of jars lined the walls, dried leaves, roots, little paper packets tied with string, each labeled in a careful hand.She smoothed her skirt for the third time, then glanced at the front door again.Ten minutes later, the doorbell chimed. Isla’s head snapped up.An old woman stepped in slowly, one hand gripping the frame as if to steady herself. She had a long shawl wrapped around her shoulders despite the shop’s warmth.Beside her was a girl of about ten with braids coming down her back.“Ma,” Isla called, rising halfway from her chair.Her mother’s face lit up. “Isla.”Isla crossed the room quickly, taking her mother’s arm and guiding her in. “You should have let Felicia carry your basket,” she scolded gently, nodding at the wicker the young girl clutched.Felicia rolled her eyes. “I tried,” she said. “But ma said she’s not made of glass.”“I’m not,” their mother said, though

**MYRKON**Lena stood at the counter, counting coins into a small tin box. “I’ll be gone for an hour,” she said, glancing toward the door. “Maybe two if the fabric man decides to argue about his prices again.”Catherine looked up from the hem she was finishing. “You’re going now?”“Market’s better before the sun tilts too far.” Lena snapped the box shut and slid it into a drawer. “I need new cotton before clients start bringing in every child in Myrkon for winter mending.”She wiped her hands on her cloth, then rested them on her hips. “The other woman is ill, so she won’t be coming in today. You can manage the shop, yes?”The simple question warmed Catherine. “Yes,” she said. “Of course.”Lena nodded, as if she’d expected no less. “If anyone comes in, put their name and what they need in that ledger.” She pointed at the worn book on the edge of the counter. “Don’t promise what we don’t have. Tell them to come back for fittings in three days unless it’s an emergency and they’re on fir

**DRAKONHELM**The long silver service still gleamed on the sideboard when the footman brought in the correspondence for the day.It was just after breakfast, and King Edward sat at the head of the long table and Queen Margaret beside him. A light mist blurred the view of the courtyards beyond, softening the hard lines of stone and barracks.“From Eldoria, Your Majesties,” the man said quietly.Margaret’s head lifted. Edward set do