The morning sun streamed through the windows, bathing the dining room in golden light as Margret sat with her daughters, their chatter filling the air. Her mind, however, felt distant, preoccupied with the strange weight she'd been feeling. This pregnancy was different—heavier, more exhausting. Deep down, she was convinced it was a boy.
After a few bites of her meal, Margret noticed Gareth's absence. Her gaze flickered toward his empty chair, and she frowned. It wasn't like him to miss breakfast. Turning to one of the maids, she inquired, "Where is His Majesty?"
The maid hesitated before replying, "He's still asleep, Your Grace."
Margret's frown deepened. Gareth rarely overslept. Reluctance tugged at her, but concern won over. "I'll check on him," she announced, standing up.
Her daughters watched her go, their curious eyes following her as she made her way toward the king's chambers.
Margret entered his room quietly, not wanting to startle him. The sight of him lying on the bed, his features serene and unbothered, brought a small smile to her lips.
She moved closer, admiring how peaceful he looked in his sleep. Leaning down, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Gareth," she whispered softly, shaking him slightly. "It's morning."
But he didn't stir.
Her smile faltered. She tried again, shaking him more firmly. "Gareth?"
Still no response.
Margret's heart began to race as panic set in. She placed her hand against his chest, searching for the rise and fall of his breathing. Relief flooded her when she felt the faint rhythm, but his lack of consciousness sent chills down her spine.
"Gareth!" she called louder, her voice trembling as she shook him desperately. Tears pricked her eyes as dread gripped her.
Realizing something was seriously wrong, she rushed to the door, her voice ringing through the corridors. "Help! Someone, please come quickly!"
*********
Footsteps echoed as guards, maids, and the royal physician hurried to her call. The physician pushed through the gathering crowd, his face grim as he approached the bed.
Margret stepped aside, her hands trembling as she watched him examine Gareth. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the physician worked, checking his pulse and examining his eyes.
Finally, the physician turned to Margret, his expression carefully controlled. "His Majesty is alive, but he's under some form of deep sedation. This is… unusual."
"Sedation?" Margret repeated, her voice cracking. "What do you mean? He hasn't taken anything! He doesn't…" She trailed off, her mind racing.
The physician hesitated before adding, "It could be natural, or it could be… induced. I'll need to investigate further."
Margret's stomach churned. "Induced?" she whispered
As the servants carried Gareth to the physician's chambers for further examination, Margret stood frozen, her mind a storm of confusion and fear.
Meanwhile, Evelyn watched the commotion from a shadowed hallway, h er heart pounding. She hadn't expected this. The potion was supposed to make Gareth fall deeper in love with her, not leave him unconscious.
The air in the royal chambers was heavy with tension and despair. The physicians worked tirelessly over Gareth's still body, their hands moving with urgency as they tried every remedy and technique to revive him. Despite their best efforts, his condition remained unchanged, his breathing growing fainter by the second.
Margret sat in a nearby chair, her hands trembling as tears streamed down her face. She watched the physicians with wide, terrified eyes, silently pleading for a miracle. Her swollen belly pressed against the edge of the table, a painful reminder of the life she carried and the one slipping away before her.
Meanwhile, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Kaelen, Gareth's younger brother, burst into the room, his usually calm demeanor replaced by sheer panic. "Margret!" he called, his voice thick with worry as he approached her. "What's going on? What happened to my brother?"
Margret looked up at him, her face pale and tear-streaked. "Kaelen," she choked out, "he… he wouldn't wake up. The physicians are trying everything, but he's…" Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands, unable to finish the sentence.
Kaelen placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, though his own hands shook. He turned to the head physician. "What's the meaning of this? How did this happen?" he demanded.
Before the physician could respond, the doors opened once more, and Dowager Queen Elira swept into the room, her regal presence commanding attention. Her sharp eyes immediately landed on Margret, who flinched under her gaze.
"What is going on here?" Elira demanded, her voice cold and stern. "Why is my son lying there like this?"
Margret stood shakily, wiping her tears. "Your Majesty," she began, her voice trembling. "I don't know. He was fine last night. But this morning, he wouldn't wake up, and the physicians—"
Elira raised a hand, silencing her. "Enough," she snapped. "If anything happens to my son, Margret, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you hear me?"
Margret's lips trembled, but she nodded silently, her tears falling anew. Kaelen stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "Mother, this isn't the time for blame. We need to focus on Gareth."
Elira ignored him, her sharp gaze fixed on the physicians. "Well? What is his condition?"
The head physician stepped forward, his expression grim. "Your Majesty, we've done everything we can. His symptoms suggest he ingested a potent poison. We've tried every antidote, but…"
"But what?" Elira demanded, her voice rising.
The physician hesitated before delivering the devastating news. "The King has passed away. We could not save him."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Margret let out a heart-wrenching cry, her legs giving out as she collapsed to the floor. Kaelen caught her just in time, his own face contorted in grief as he held her trembling form.
"No…" Margret whispered, clutching at Kaelen's arms. "This can't be happening. He can't be gone."
Elira's face hardened, though her trembling lips betrayed the storm of emotions beneath her icy exterior. "My son… my Gareth…" she murmured, her voice cracking. But her grief quickly gave way to anger as she turned her gaze back to Margret. "This is your fault! You were supposed to care for him, and now he's dead!"
"Mother, enough!" Kaelen roared, standing to his full height. "Blaming Margret won't bring Gareth back. We need to find out who did this."
Elira glared at him but said nothing, her chest heaving with suppressed rage.
Kaelen turned to the guards standing by the door, his voice commanding and firm. "Lock down the palace immediately. No one leaves until we find the culprit. Bring in the royal investigator—I want answers, and I want them now."
The guards saluted and rushed to carry out his orders. The sound of heavy doors slamming shut echoed through the palace, sealing everyone inside.
Kaelen clenched his fists, his eyes burning with fury. "Whoever did this will pay," he vowed, his voice low and dangerous. "I swear it on my brother's name."
Margret remained on the floor, her sobs muffled against her hands. The weight of her grief pressed down on her like a crushing tide, threatening to drown her. She felt a small, comforting hand on her shoulder and looked up to see her eldest daughter, tears streaming down her young face.
"Mother," the girl whispered, her voice shaking. "What's going to happen now?"
Margret pulled her daughter into her arms, her tears falling onto the child's hair. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "But I promise you… we'll get through this."
As the palace descended into chaos, Evelyn watched from her window, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't intended for things to go this far. The potion was supposed to bring Gareth closer to her, not kill him. But now, her actions had set off a chain of events she couldn't control. And as the palace locked down, she realized with chilling certainty that the truth would eventually come to light.
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