"The drug's already taken effect. It's too late. Be good. Once Shelagh gives birth to the legitimate heir, we can have another child."
I seized his hand and held on with everything I had. "Chester, listen to me. I am a princess. Princess Stella Henson. Go get the physician. Save this child."
But he thought I was lying. He wrenched his hand free, anger flashing across his face.
"You've truly disappointed me. If you're going to lie, at least make it believable. This is the capital, not your little countryside cottage. One wrong word here can cost you your head."
He flicked his sleeves and stormed out.
"A miscarriage won't kill you. Look after yourself."
I watched his retreating figure until it disappeared. Every last shred of hope in me went with it.
I curled into the corner, the pain splitting me open. I could feel it, every moment of it, the child slipping away from my body.
The child I had longed for day and night, killed by its own father on the very first day he learned of its existence.
I was unconscious through the night. The skirt beneath me soaked through with blood.
The door crashed open with a kick. Shelagh Fox strode in, flanked by several older servants.