Mira's brow twitched. "I can't say I do, Your Grace."
Seliora flopped back into her chair.
"Try again next month," Mira said gently.
"Next month," Seliora muttered bitterly.
"I'm sorry, your grace," Mira repeated.
Seliora nodded slowly, though every muscle in her body screamed. "It's okay. I guess the prince and I will just have to try again, as you said."
But it wasn't okay. Not by a long shot.
She sat frozen for a moment after the medic left, the words echoing in the back of her mind. Negative. Again. That single word had the power to unravel every thread of hope she'd stitched together. The grand vision she held; herself walking the halls of the palace, belly rounded with child, her place forever secured in the royal lineage, crumbled like ash. How many times could she keep painting that fantasy in her head before she had to admit it would never be real?
She stood on shaky legs, adjusting the hem of her dress. There was no time to cry. No room to be weak.
