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Once there was a queen whose husband was unfaithful. She was neither young nor beautiful, and hers had been a political marriage, so she told herself it was inevitable that the king would seek pleasure elsewhere. “He comes home to me,” she consoled herself. “No matter how far he wanders, he always comes home to me.” As time passed, however, and the king drew ever further from his queen and their bed, Sofia – for that was the queen’s name – grew afraid. She had borne the king no children, and the political alliance that their marriage had sealed was no longer as important as it had been. If the king chose to take a new wife, what would happen to her?
When the king was home, Sofia enticed him into their bed, trying and trying to give him an heir. When he was not, she made herself indispensible to the running of the kingdom. She did everything she could think of to safeguard her crown, but still the king fell into other women’s arms as often as he went to hers. Still they had no heirs, and still the queen was afraid.
Somehow, despite how long she had been afraid, when it finally happened Sofia was caught completely by surprise. “Do you know,” the king said at dinner, gesturing with a chicken drumstick, “in the woods there is a beautiful palace, all overgrown with trees, and inside it there is a marvelous princess.”
This was hardly the first of the king’s princesses – she wasn’t even the first one this month. The king called most of his lovers princesses, especially the ones he found while out hunting. Sofia kept her voice steady with the ease of long practice. “Is that so, my love?”
“Truly marvelous,” the king affirmed, with a mouth full of poultry. “For when I found her, she was in a sleep like death, yet when I bedded her she whelped two healthy young pups!”
Ice poured down Sofia’s spine, and all the breath went out of her lungs. The king continued, oblivious to his wife’s horror. “Two children – two!” The king sighed happily. “A boy and a girl. Sun and moon, they are, and Talia the sky.”
Sofia swallowed hard. Her mouth was desert-dry, even while she felt that every part of her had turned to ice. The king never waxed poetic unless he was serious about a woman, and this one had given him children. The king wouldn’t break his marriage for love, but he would do it for an heir. For an heir, he would throw Sofia to the wolves and never look back. Sofia sat motionless at the table, struggling for breath, as the king rhapsodized about Talia’s breasts, Talia’s legs, Talia’s smooth young skin. Sofia sat, helpless, as her life shattered in front of her.
In the morning Sofia summoned her secretary and told him to find the palace in the woods where Talia lived. This the secretary did. “Good,” said the queen. “Take me there.”
Talia was surprised to receive a visit from anyone other than the king, but she welcomed Sofia into an elegant sitting room and offered her tea and candied fruit. When she learned who Sofia was, Talia went very still. Eyes downcast in shame, she said, “I am sorry.”
The queen set her tea down and asked bluntly, “Did you seduce my husband?”
Talia shook her head. “I swear to you, I had no choice in any of this. He came upon me while I lay in an enchanted sleep, and I knew nothing of it. I awoke some time later to two children in my arms. It was only when he returned and told me what had passed that I even knew for sure they were mine.”
Sofia nodded, for the king had said the same thing. However improbable the story seemed, her husband had long since stopped lying to her about the women he bedded. Besides, enchantment might well be the only way the king could ever impregnate a woman, considering his track record. Sofia told the girl, “These children are the problem. It will not surprise you to know that the king has had many lovers in the past. It no longer troubles me,” she lied. “But none of these lovers has given him an heir. Yours are the first and only children the king has had.”
Talia looked fondly at the jeweled cribs where her children lay sleeping. Sofia, watching her, saw the exact moment when she understood. Terror slammed into the girl like a tidal wave. All the color drained from her face and she lunged to her feet, in a few short steps placing herself between her children and the queen. “Don’t hurt them,” she begged, eyes wide with fear, half-crouched in feral protectiveness. “They’re only infants, please, please don’t hurt them.”
Sofia shook her head, something that was too bitter to be a smile pulling at her lips. “I came to see if I could,” she admitted. “I find I don’t have the stomach for it.”
She was dooming herself, and she knew it. She felt suddenly very old, and very tired. She looked up at this girl who would replace her, glowing with youth, lovely even in her fear. Sofia found, to her surprise, that she could not hate her.
“It will be easier for you than it was for me,” Sofia sighed. “He loves you, at least for now. Gather allies where you can,” she advised. “Keep your children close, especially your son. One day he’ll be the only thing that saves you from sharing my fate.”
Talia frowned, not understanding. “I thought you’d come to get rid of me,” she said eventually. “Bribe me, or threaten me.”
“Would it have worked?” Sofia asked, amused. She was shocked when Talia nodded.
“I would have left long ago if it weren’t for the children,” the girl whispered.
The queen stared. Talia, after a moment, met her gaze, and Sofia saw in her eyes that she was not lying. For the first time Sofia imagined what it would be like, to wake up to children you didn’t remember birthing, much less conceiving. To have a king tell you that they were his. That you were his.
Almost without her willing it, Sofia’s mind clicked into gear. The king had an heir. Illegitimate, yes, but if he was anointed by the priests and certain key nobles could be convinced to back him, no one would fight it – an illegitimate prince was better than a civil war. After so many years making herself the lynchpin of the kingdom, Sofia knew all there was to know about getting what you want out of the aristocracy and the priests. It would be difficult, but she could see how it might be done.
Her voice sounded very far away to her own ears when she asked, “Talia, how much do you hate him?”
She looked at the girl’s face, and found the answer there. Sofia nodded, already forming her plans. “Talia,” she said slowly, “if you want to run, and take your children with you, I will give you any bribe you ask for, and give it with my blessing.”
Talia sagged with relief, but Sofia wasn’t finished. “Or you could stay,” she said. “And help me kill the king.”