Lydia sat curled up on the edge of her bed, her robe slipping off her thin shoulders, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric tight against her chest. Tears stained her cheeks, hot and endless, dripping into the collar of her robe. Her breaths were uneven, short and shaky, as if every inhale burned and every exhale broke her apart more.
Katherine stood a few steps away, her hands wringing together nervously. Her eyes, usually so firm and steady, were full of worry as she looked at her mistress, at the woman who had once been so strong but was now breaking piece by piece.
Katherine finally spoke, her voice low, soft, almost as though she feared her words might push Lydia into a deeper spiral.
"So you'll never tell His Highness about your pregnancy?" she asked quietly. "About his child?"
