“Ye think I care ’bout peepin’ at a woman feedin’ her child?” the poleman said. He was using a long pole to steer them out of the cave mouth and into the shallows, but then he quickly stowed it along the side of the boat, switching to a pair of oars set in locks at either side. A wave hit the prow of the vessel, but he’d timed it right and they spilled over its whitewater without losing momentum. Stretched out along the coastline were unusually bright waters for this late into the night. The twin moons, which should’ve been painting streaks to match her tearstained cheeks, were noticeably absent as she eased Edward to her breast.

This was a moment of bonding, of connection, that she desperately needed.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, drawing his hungry lips away. “He bit me.” She looked down to find the boy staring up at her. She swore his tiny mouth was curled into a mischievous smile.

“Seein’ as he don’ have any teeth, I highly doubt that,” the poleman offered with another pull of his oars.

“Ye can shut yer fool mouth before I shut it fer ye,” Beatty said. “Here, Majesty. Let me. It takes practice and the bottom of this pitiful excuse fer a boat ain’t the best conditions to learn, innit?”

This time, Elwyn didn’t refuse, handing over the bundle that was her son and remembering that pinprick of pain as he’d clamped his gums down on her with the force of a hound protecting its bone. Soon the soft sound of smacking lips accompanied the slap of water against wood.

“There ye go, lil one,” Beatty cooed. “Next time ye’ll be kinder to yer mama, won’t ye? She’s risked much to keep ye safe.”

Elwyn sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the sting of having gone too long without sleep. Memories swirled of the day she received the letter bearing the Kinkallian royal seal, now two weeks hence. It had been addressed to her husband, but Magda had managed to intercept it from the courier. After all, it’s not like he would suspect the queen’s handmaiden of stealing mail from His Majesty the king.

She’d read the letter thrice, wetting the parchment with her tears until the ink blurred and ran. Until its message was all but indecipherable. She cast it into the fire anyway, for her husband couldn’t know the truth, not until she was long gone with her child in her arms.

The message was nothing short of a warning:

The entire Kinkallian royal family was dead. Her father. Her mother. Her two brothers.

Her family was gone.

The throne was empty.

Edward’s throne, she thought, eyes flashing open once more. “Give him to me,” she commanded.

“He’s still hungry, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, and I will feed him.”