The poison had not touched her lips.
But fear had.
Selene spent the next weeks in her chambers, under constant guard. The healer visited daily. Darian did not leave the palace. Not once.
And the city—once uncertain—began to shift.
People whispered not of failure, but of survival.
"She carries again," they said.
"She faced death and did not fall."
In the palace garden, Lyra sat at the edge of a fountain, her legs swinging as she read a story aloud to her governess.
She stopped suddenly and looked up.
"Why do they want my brother?" she asked.
The governess blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Everyone is excited about the baby," Lyra said quietly. "Because he might be a boy."
The woman hesitated. "The people have always believed a prince is the future."
"But I'm already here," Lyra said. "And I'm not afraid."
The governess had no answer.
Because there was none.
Inside her chamber, Selene stared out the window, one hand on her growing belly, the other resting on a letter.
It was from Lady Ilaira:
"The council is with you now. Even the merchants are beginning to speak of Lyra with pride. You have not just survived, Selene. You've changed the game."
She folded the letter gently.
Outside the window, the people were hanging green banners—her color. It had started on the street corners, then in the market squares. Now, they appeared on windows, in shops, even across the palace gate.
No order was given.
The people had chosen her—for the first time not because they had to…
But because they wanted to.
Darian visited her one evening after sunset.
He no longer looked like a stranger in his own castle. The crown on his brow sat a little straighter now—not because he felt more powerful, but because he had finally begun to understand power.
Selene looked at him as he entered, and for once, he did not bow or apologize. He simply sat beside her.
"Miranna has vanished," he said. "No trace."
"She'll return one day," Selene replied. "People like her always do."
"I'll be ready this time."
Selene glanced at him. "Will you?"
He nodded. "If I'm not… our daughter will be."
They sat in silence, the soft glow of candlelight flickering between them.
"You will be loved," he said suddenly.
Selene raised an eyebrow.
"Not for what you've done. But for what they now understand you are."
The healer came three nights later, examined the queen carefully, and gave a quiet smile.
"It's a strong child," she said. "Stronger than most."
Selene simply nodded.
She had been strong for so long—she didn't need hope anymore.
Just time.