“No.” Rozalind reached up with her other hand. Tucked a plait behind Akeylah’s ear. “I’m the one who should have been honest with you from the beginning. Told you about everything, no matter how much I worried it would change things between us.”

Akeylah couldn’t help it. She glanced at Rozalind’s stomach.

The menders had tried their hardest. Used every medicine available. But in the end, the curse had taken too great a toll on the queen’s body.

Rozalind caught Akeylah’s look. Her free hand drifted to her belly. “The baby?” she whispered.

Akeylah shook her head, just once. “I’m so sorry, Rozalind.”

The queen closed her eyes. A tear leaked. Then another. When she opened them once more, she stared woodenly at the drapes strung around the bed. Her gaze fixed on something Akeylah couldn’t see. “You know, I…” She swallowed hard. Cleared her throat. “It was a duty. To bear heirs. I was aware of what would be expected of me when I agreed to come here, to wed a king. But I didn’t expect to feel…” Her hand tightened into a fist over her stomach. “I just thought maybe this time the child would survive,” she continued in a whisper. “They seemed strong… And innocent, in all this.”

Akeylah laid down alongside Rozalind. She reached out, and Rozalind buried her face in Akeylah’s neck. Akeylah held her tight. Felt warm tears trickle across her bare skin, and traced Rozalind’s back in small circles. “It’s not fair,” she whispered into the queen’s mess of curls. “It’s not right.”

So much loss. Andros. Yasmin. The baby. When would it end? With Akeylah or her sisters in the Necropolis next?

She held on to Rozalind until the tears dried. Until the queen sank back into the sheets, exhausted.

“You should rest.” Akeylah kissed her temple. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“What about you?” Rozalind’s gaze sharpened, as though she’d only just remembered the rest of the story. “Is the blackmailer still demanding something from you?”

“Trying to,” Akeylah said. “But Ren thinks she knows who it might be. Something the blackmailer said to me when she cursed you, reminded Ren of—”

As if in response, a deafening crash of bells interrupted her.

Akeylah startled upright. So did Rozalind, though the latter groaned and leaned back against her sheets, a hand pressed to her stomach. “The emergency alarm,” Rozalind spat through gritted teeth. “You should—”

Akeylah was already on her feet, racing toward the entrance. Halfway out of it, she collided with the head mender, his brown robes a whirlwind around his feet. “It’s coming from the maids’ chamber,” he called to the room in general. A few other menders leaped up. “Someone needs help.”

Akeylah’s stomach turned to rock. The maids’ chamber.