I couldn’t decide what I was as the female without an empty womb was given a room in the staff quarters beneath the first floor of the towers.

All I knew was that I was anything but happy.

My husband’s seed had filled this stranger’s body. A male that didn’t belong to her had given this thief something that would never be mine.

For weeks now, I’d only seen her from afar.

For just as long, I’d avoided Rorn’s touch and company by staying with my paintings. Alone with my wilted heart and empty thoughts—I’d succumbed to the odd feeling of feeling nothing at all.

No amount of apologizing would change anything. Not even the few times my king had gazed at me from his knees with tears flooding his eyes, a sight I’d never thought to see, could rouse the courage within me to care.

For days, Theenon did not climb the stairs to check on me, but rather, he’d send one of the guards or kitchen-hands to deliver my meals.

Many of them went untouched. It’d taken days to find the desire to eat. Survival, whatever it was I was even surviving for, eventually had me forcing down small bites of fruit and bread.

The scythe moon sat in the corner of the bay window.

There was one thing to be grateful for. The ache and sense of missing something I hadn’t known was so vital had finally departed with the arrival of Rorn’s pregnant lover. There was no room for longing for the wolf.

But I wasn’t grateful.

I was simply… nothing.

My barely touched dinner sat waiting by the door. I’d deliver it to the kitchens later when the occupants of the towers were slumbering and I could pretend to roam the halls as if nothing might harm me.

My gaze slowly crossed the parlor to the door at the sound of footsteps.

Theenon. His mouth was etched in a thin line, hands tucked before him as he stood at the door that had been left ajar. “Majesty,” he said, his eyes assessing.

I looked back to the window, to the land beyond.

Perhaps I could be of use somewhere out there. It had never been more clear that the title of queen meant little here in these royal towers. Maybe I’d cut off my locks and dress differently. Maybe I could try to be something else for a while.

Remembering with heated color what had happened the last time I’d tried to escape my life, I squashed the thought. It was but another useless wondering my solitude and weary soul liked to tempt me with.

“It’s good to see you,” I said, aware that it was flat.

“I wish I could say the same to you.”