The Heiress Carrying His Heir-Chapter 75 - 76: The betrayal

Lena’s pov

I stood in the queen’s empty chambers, staring at the door she’d just walked through, and felt something crack inside me.

"We’ll talk. I promise. When I return."

I laughed, short and hollow, at the empty room.

Of course. Of course that was how she’d left it. Another promise. Another delay. Another time she’d make it right later, and later never seemed to come. I’d heard those words so many times over the past weeks. Later. Tomorrow. When things settle down. But things never settled down. They just got worse, and I got pushed further away.

I moved mechanically through the space, straightening things that didn’t need straightening. Smoothing bedcovers Elara had barely disturbed. Folding the nightdress she’d discarded on the floor like I was her laundress, not her–

Not her what?

What was I, exactly?

Everyone in this palace knew how close we were. Everyone saw us together, saw the way she trusted me, saw the way I was always there. some called me. Her only real friend, others whispered. We’d been together for years. I’d held her when she cried. I’d celebrated with her when she won. I’d been the one constant in a life full of change.

And now I was just furniture. Just useful. Just there. Something to be used when needed and ignored when not. I might have had a mission or different intent in mind at least I did a good job at pretending to be a good friend, something Kaelen wasn’t grateful for.

I was so tired. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

Tired of being everyone’s afterthought. Valued until I wasn’t. Trusted until I asked for something in return. Loved until love became inconvenient.

I was halfway to the door before I fully decided where I was going. But once the thought entered my head, it wouldn’t leave.

****

Malakor’s recovery quarters were in the east wing, removed from the council chambers, tucked away where Elara could comfortably forget he existed while he convalesced. Stripping him of his seat had been cleanly done. Politically elegant. She’d walked in there like she owned the place, which she did, technically, and taken everything from him in front of everyone.

I’d admired it at the time. Watched him crumble and felt almost satisfied. He’d tried to control her, and she’d beaten him.

Funny how things looked different now.

The guard at his door recognized me and stepped aside without question, the queen’s handmaiden, her closest companion, no cause for alarm. I almost smiled at that. Even now, my position gave me access no one else had. Even now, I was useful for getting through doors.

I knocked once and entered without waiting for a response.

Malakor sat by the window, a book open in his lap, afternoon light falling across him in a way that made him look older than he had in the council chamber. Weaker. Smaller. The past weeks had not been kind to him. His face was thinner, his hands trembled slightly as he held the book.

But his eyes still had that sharpness. That calculation. That hunger.

He looked up, and his expression shifted into something like surprise.

"Lena?" He set the book aside carefully, marking his place with a finger. "This is unexpected. Did Her Majesty send you with a message? Perhaps a decree of banishment ?" His voice dripped with dry sarcasm.

"No." I closed the door behind me and stood with my back against it. "She doesn’t know I’m here."

His eyebrows rose. "Then what brings you to my humble prison?" A dry laugh escaped him. "Come to check on the old man? Make sure I’m still breathing? Report back that I’m properly suffering?"

"I’m not here out of concern for your health."

"No?" He leaned back in his chair, studying me with those sharp eyes. "Then why? We’ve never spoken privately. You’ve never sought me out. In all your years serving the queen, you’ve never once come to my chambers or requested a meeting. And now, when I’m stripped of everything, when I’m nothing but a memory in this palace, you appear at my door." He paused, letting the words hang. "Forgive me if I’m confused. Forgive me if I’m suspicious."

I moved further into the room but didn’t sit. Let him wonder. Let him wait. Let him see that I wasn’t going to be rushed.

"You lost everything," I said finally. "Decades of work. Your position. Your power. Your influence. All gone because she decided you were inconvenient. Because she wanted to prove she could."

Malakor’s eyes narrowed. "I’m aware of what I lost. I was there. I remember every moment of it quite clearly."

"She does that, you know." I kept my voice even, calm. "She keeps people close until she doesn’t need them anymore. And then she pushes them away. Makes them feel like they were never important at all. Like everything they gave her meant nothing."

He studied me for a long moment. The silence stretched between us, heavy with meaning.

"That sounds personal," he said quietly.

"It’s observation."

"It sounds personal." He tilted his head, and I could see something like understanding dawning in his eyes. "You and the queen are close. Everyone knows that. Everyone in this palace has seen the way she trusts you, the way you’re always together. She relies on you more than anyone. And yet here you are, in my room, speaking of her like–" He stopped himself.

"Like what?"

"Like someone who’s been hurt." His voice was quieter now. More careful. "Like someone who’s been pushed away herself. What happened, Lena?"

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The words were too raw, too close to the surface.

He waited. Patient. Whatever else Malakor was, he knew how to let silence work for him. He knew that people would fill empty spaces with truth if you just gave them enough time.

"What do you want?" he asked finally. "If you’re not here from her, if you’re not here to check on me, if you’re not here to gloat, what do you actually want from this conversation?"

"Options." I met his eyes directly. "You still have connections. People on the council who owe you favors. Resources she doesn’t know about. Gold hidden away. You didn’t lose those when you lost your seat. Power isn’t just about titles."

His expression shifted. Wariness now, mixed with something else. Interest, maybe. "And if I did have such things, what would that have to do with you?"

"I’m in rooms you can’t enter anymore." I took a step closer. "I hear things. See things. She trusts me completely, everyone knows that. I’m invisible when I need to be, present when it matters. I’ve spent years watching, listening, learning." I paused. "I’ve just never had reason to share what I know with anyone else. Never had reason to think about who else might find it useful."

Malakor sat forward slowly. His eyes were sharp now, calculating. "You’re offering me information about the queen."

"I’m offering you information, yes."

"About Elara." He said her name carefully, like he was testing it. "Your closest friend. The person you’ve served for years. The woman who trusts you with her life."

"Yes."

He stared at me. For a long moment, he just stared, like he was seeing me for the first time. Like everything he’d thought he knew had just been turned upside down.

"I don’t understand," he said finally, and for once the sarcasm was gone. He sounded genuinely confused. "Everyone knows how close you are. You’re always with her. She trusts you implicitly, more than she trusts any of us, more than she trusts anyone in this palace. And now you’re here, offering to–" He stopped, shook his head. "Why? What could possibly make you turn on her like this?"

"She trusts me implicitly." I laughed, short and bitter. The sound echoed off the walls. "She trusts me to fetch her tea. To lay out her clothes. To draw her bath and fix her hair and be there when she needs someone to talk at. She trusts me to be convenient, to be available, to ask nothing for myself."

I took another step closer, my voice rising slightly.

"But when it comes to actually caring about me? When it comes to treating me like a person instead of a piece of furniture? When it comes to sharing what’s actually going on with her instead of pushing me away with empty promises?" I shook my head. "She’s made her feelings very clear over the past weeks. I’m useful. I’m convenient. I’m not important."

Malakor was quiet for a moment, processing. I could see him weighing my words, fitting them into whatever picture he was building.

"What are you offering, exactly?" he asked.

"Information. Access. I can tell you things no one else can. Things that could be useful to someone in your position, someone who wants to rebuild." I paused. "In exchange, I want gold. Enough that I have choices, that I’m not dependent on anyone’s goodwill. And when things shift, because they will shift, one way or another, I want a position. Something real. Not handmaiden to whoever ends up on the throne. Not someone’s servant or shadow. Something that’s mine."

He looked at me for a long moment. "That’s a significant ask."

"It’s a significant offer."

"And what information do you have that’s worth that?"

"The queen is hiding something." I kept my eyes on his. "I’ve noticed things, patterns, behaviors"

Malakor’s eyes sharpened. "What kind of something?"

"I’m not sure yet." I held his gaze. "Not completely. But I can find out. Give me a few days. I’ll have something concrete, something you can use."

He was quiet for a long moment, weighing, calculating. I could almost see the thoughts moving behind his eyes.

Then he nodded slowly. "A few days. Bring me something real, something I can verify, and we’ll talk about gold. We’ll talk about position."

"That’s all I ask."

I turned toward the door, my hand reaching for the handle.

"Lena."

I paused. Didn’t turn around.

"She was fortunate in you," Malakor said. His voice was quiet, almost gentle. "All these years, she had someone loyal at her side, someone who truly cared. She just didn’t know it. She just didn’t value it."

I stood there for a moment, my hand on the door, feeling the weight of his words.

"No," I said quietly. "She didn’t."

And I left.