Chapter 919

"My love, the stairs felt unusually slippery when I fell," Queen Eleanor whispered from her sickbed, her face pale as parchment.

King Edward's brows furrowed. "Are you suggesting foul play?"

"I'm not certain," she replied weakly, shaking her head. "But the slickness wasn't natural."

He rose immediately. "I'll order a full investigation."

If anyone dared harm his wife and unborn child, they would pay dearly.

Eleanor's trembling fingers brushed her flat abdomen, tears glistening. This child had carried all her hopes and love.

From the first day of pregnancy, she'd faced overwhelming pressure. The physicians had warned against keeping the baby, citing grave risks.

Yet she'd insisted. She'd endured morning sickness, battled complications—only to have it all crumble at the final moment.

"I want to see our child," Eleanor struggled to rise. "Perhaps he'll feel our love..."

"Mother!" Fiona rushed to restrain her. "You must rest. I'll watch over my brother and alert you immediately."

The king squeezed his daughter's shoulder. "Thank you."

Fiona shook her head. "Compared to what you and sister endured, this is nothing."

Once alone, Edward gathered his weeping wife into his arms. Silent tears soaked his shoulder.

"Why did our child leave us?" she choked out. "Was I inadequate?"

He stroked her hair. "He knew your love. He'll return to us."

"Even if..." Edward hesitated, "even if we can't keep him, we still have Fiona. She's a blessing."

At Fiona's mention, Eleanor wept harder. "After all she's suffered, now this..."

"Don't dwell on it," the king murmured, kissing her forehead. "Fiona's recovered, and our son will be fine."

She forced a nod, but dread surged like a rising tide within her.