The Royal Academy

Chapter 17

The familiar ache twisted inside me before I even opened my eyes. I had felt it creeping in the night before, a dull, relentless pulse that signaled the inevitable. My heart sank as the realization settled over me, heavier than it had ever been before.

I didn’t need to confirm it—I already knew.

With trembling hands, I pulled myself up from the bed and made my way to the small washroom connected to my chambers. The moment I saw the crimson evidence of my failure, my chest tightened. Five months. Five months of trying, of hoping, of doing everything required of me, and yet, every month, like clockwork, my body betrayed me.

It was not just a physical ache—it was deeper than that, a hollow, suffocating feeling that wrapped around my heart and squeezed until I could hardly breathe.

I sank to the floor, my legs too weak to support me any longer. My hands trembled as I clutched at my nightgown, the fabric becoming damp with the tears I could no longer hold back.

Why? Why was this happening? Why was I failing at the one thing I had been brought here to do?

The silent chamber around me seemed to echo with the weight of my failure. I felt trapped, suffocated by the walls of duty and expectation that had been built around me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape the reality that I was failing—failing Conrad, failing the kingdom, and perhaps worst of all, failing myself.

I don’t know how long I sat there on the cold floor, my tears mixing with the hopelessness that had taken root inside me. But then, the door creaked open, and Anna’s soft footsteps entered the room.

“Your Highness,” she whispered, her voice gentle and filled with the concern I had come to rely on during these months. “Are you unwell?”

I couldn’t speak, the words stuck in my throat, trapped behind the sobs I was desperately trying to suppress. But Anna, always perceptive, didn’t need me to say anything. She crossed the room and knelt beside me, her hand resting lightly on my back, offering a comfort that I couldn’t seem to find in anyone else.

“I know,” she murmured, her voice filled with compassion. “I know it’s hard.”

Her words were simple, but they cut through the silence, and I finally let out the sob I had been holding back. I couldn’t hold it in anymore—the weight of everything was too much.

“I... I can’t do this,” I gasped through my tears, my voice breaking. “I’ve failed again, Anna. I’ve failed, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I give him what he wants?”

Anna’s hand gently stroked my back, and I could feel her heartache for me, but also her strength. “Your Highness, you are not a failure,” she said softly, but firmly. “This is not your fault. Sometimes these things... they just take time.”

“Time?” I choked out bitterly, shaking my head. “It’s been five months. Five months of... of this! What if something is wrong with me? What if... what if I can’t give him an heir?”

The very thought terrified me, sent a cold chill racing down my spine. The idea that I might never fulfill my duty, never bear Conrad’s child, was a nightmare I couldn’t seem to wake from.

Anna was quiet for a moment, her hand still moving in soothing circles across my back. When she spoke again, her voice was calm but heavy with understanding. “Even if that were true—if something were wrong, Your Highness—this burden does not fall solely on you. There are other ways, other means, to achieve what is needed.”

Her words brought me little comfort. Because the truth was, no matter how logical it might seem, I knew where the blame would fall. I could feel it in the way Conrad looked at me. I could sense it in every unspoken word, every cold glance.

“I know Conrad blames me,” I whispered, barely able to say the words aloud. “He hasn’t said it outright, but I can feel it. I can see it in his eyes.”

Anna’s hand stilled for a moment, and then she sighed softly. “The King is under a great deal of pressure. He may not realize how his actions affect you, but that does not mean you are to blame. These things take time, Your Highness. You must be kind to yourself.”

I swallowed, nodding numbly, though I found little solace in her words. How could I be kind to myself when all I felt was failure? When all that surrounded me were expectations I could not meet?

After a long moment, Anna stood and helped me to my feet. “You’ll want to rest, but... you should speak with him.”

I nodded again, my heart sinking at the thought of confronting Conrad. But she was right. I needed to tell him. And I needed to face whatever disappointment was waiting for me in his eyes.

---

I found him in his study, where he seemed to spend most of his time these days. His back was to me when I entered, and for a moment, I considered turning around, walking away before he noticed me. But I couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer.

“Conrad,” I said softly, stepping into the room.

He turned, his expression tired and worn, as if the weight of the kingdom had settled on his shoulders. He didn’t look surprised to see me, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—impatience, perhaps.

“What is it?” His voice was flat, almost mechanical, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to shrink under his gaze.

“I... it’s happened again,” I whispered, my hands trembling at my sides. “I’m not pregnant.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. The silence between us was suffocating. He let out a long breath, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I see,” he said, his tone clipped. He turned away from me, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. “Five months.”

I nodded, though he wasn’t looking at me. “Yes.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and the tension in the room was unbearable. When he finally turned back to me, his face was taut with frustration. “Perhaps it’s time we see what’s wrong.”

My heart sank. There it was—the blame. He didn’t say it outright, but it was clear. He thought I was the problem.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “You think something is wrong with me?”

His eyes flicked to mine, and though he didn’t answer, his silence said everything.

“I’m doing everything I can,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m trying, Conrad. I want this to happen as much as you do.”

He sighed heavily, his frustration clear. “I know, but... it shouldn’t be taking this long. There are doctors, specialists. We can figure out what’s going on.”

I nodded numbly, though his words stung. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” I said softly, but inside, I felt the weight of his unspoken accusation pressing down on me.

Without another word, he turned back to his desk, dismissing me with his silence. I stood there for a moment, the ache in my chest growing, before I quietly left the room.

I had failed again. And now, it seemed, there was no escaping the weight of that failure.