In Favour |Clara Walseworth|

Heir ~ Chapter 8

Germany, 1818.

Clara sat quietly in her rooms one afternoon, a rare moment of peace among the intricacies of palace life. The soft light filtered through the tall windows, casting gentle shadows over the book in her lap. Though she was trying to read, her mind wandered—settling into the royal family had been challenging, and even now, she couldn't quite shake the feeling of being a guest on uncertain ground.

A knock at the door broke the quiet. Clara looked up as a maid stepped in, curtsying. "Your Highness, Queen Agatha requests your presence in her quarters."Clara closed her book and stood, feeling a slight pang of nervousness. Though her interactions with the queen had always been polite, there was a formality to Queen Agatha's presence that never felt warm. She followed the maid through the grand corridors, her thoughts racing. The queen seldom summoned her without purpose. When she arrived at the queen's chambers, the room felt tense and unusually quiet. Seated near the fireplace was Queen Agatha, her posture impeccable. Beside her was Ada, her face marked with a certain smugness that Clara couldn't ignore. Emilia was there too, standing near the window, her hands tightly clasped and her gaze averted.

"Clara, my dear," Queen Agatha greeted her, though her tone held a subtle edge. "Please, sit with us."Clara settled into the offered chair, folding her hands in her lap, sensing that something important—and likely uncomfortable—was about to unfold. The queen wasted no time, studying Clara carefully before speaking. "My dear daughter-in-law," Agatha began, her eyes narrowing slightly, "you have been with us for over a year now. That is plenty of time to adapt to our ways. And so, it seems only fair we address a... concern that has begun to circulate." Clara's heart fluttered, uncertainty clouding her face. "Concern, Your Majesty?" she asked quietly.

Ada's laugh broke the silence, a sharp, condescending sound. "Oh, Clara, surely you have heard the whispers," she said. "A princess married for over a year, and yet... no heir. It's all anyone can talk about." Clara's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She glanced at Emilia, who was visibly uncomfortable, her gaze fixed on the floor, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her dress. Queen Agatha's expression softened just a touch, though her eyes remained focused.

"It is important that you understand your role, Clara," Agatha continued, her voice calm but pointed. "An heir ensures stability, ensures the future. Without one, people are beginning to wonder why." The weight of Agatha's words settled heavily over Clara, who swallowed, struggling to find the right response. She had known, of course, that children would be expected. But to hear it put so bluntly—and to learn that people were gossiping about it—was a harsh reminder of the expectations on her shoulders. Ana leaned forward, her tone sharpening.

"It's your duty to produce an heir, is it not? William is third in line, and with no child, you're leaving space for doubt, giving people reason to question your place." Her smile was cool, laced with a cruel satisfaction. Clara braced herself against the pressure that seemed to grow with each word, her mind racing to explain that these things took time. But how could she say that in a room where patience was clearly in short supply?

There was a beat of silence before Ana spoke again, her gaze fixed coldly on Clara. "None of the women in this family have yet succeeded in producing an heir." Clara voice turned rather defensive, each word more pointed than the last. "I did. She died at two months." Ada's  gaze hardened, resentment clear in her eyes. "Emilia, well, she can barely carry to term."

The cruelty of Ada's words left the room in stunned silence. Clara glanced at Emilia, who stood with her head low, her eyes wet, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze. Her heart twisted with both discomfort and sympathy, unsure how to offer an apology that would ease the pain Ada had just unleashed. But the queen's voice soon returned, breaking through the tension.