"Charlotte," Gwain said, catching up with her as she headed toward the western junction at a swift pace. "Lotty. We... this--You know this is some con artist."

Spine snapping straight, Charlotte abruptly stopped, causing her husband to nearly run into her from behind. "Gwain. How could you say that?"

She spun to face him, eyes searching his face. Charlotte already knew this was about to be a continuation of their argument from the night before. Tears gathering in her eyes, she stared at him silently until Gwain licked his lips uncertainly. "I know every imperfection in his face. He has that scar on the back of his head where Hershel's boy cut him with scissors. He has a tiny mole at the corner of his left eye. He has a silver ring around his iris. There's a bump on his left index finger where those children broke his hand when he was four. Gwain. Look at me. Look at me and tell me that isn't our son."

"But... Soulless..." Gwain shifted uncomfortably. "He said some... strange things."

Charlotte shook her head. "Last night, you know where I slept? I spent the night with Solace. I held him tight and prayed. All night. I begged Nyltia to give me one more miracle. Today, he’s alive. He’s our son, Gwain. That’s not some man pretending to be our son. That’s Solace.”

Gwain clenched his teeth anxiously, hands twitching as he tried not to grip his bangs in distress. "Lotty, we can't include him in the competition. I don't think he's fit—"

“By your rules, they have two years to do something. He’ll have two years to impress everyone, and I think he can do it. Look how smart he is!”

“Even if he can feed himself at ten minutes old, that’s not—”

“He held a conversation with us! Maybe he's a little confused right now, but he was coherent. He’s not an infant.” Stepping closer, Charlotte clutched his shirt as she stared up at him, eyes stinging. “Please. Let him try? Two years. Just consider him equally with the other two.”

“I’m not sure Uncle Rex will like that.”

Charlotte’s expression soured.

“Please don’t…” Gwain begged. “Fine. He can compete with the other two. Please stop being upset with me. You know I can’t stand it…”

Her tears still slipped free, sliding down her cheeks. “You are my Beloved. I love you with every last ounce of my soul, and I only want what is best for you and for our country. But this is a gift from Nyltia, and if he isn’t meant to be the next king, then it must be the end of the world. I truly believe this. She interfered in your coronation, after all.”

Gwain bowed his head, hands cupping her face to smear her makeup and tears together. “Alright. He can compete. But he’s going to have a very difficult time. You know that, right? He has no political power.”

“Wenkels will support him. Once she gets to know him.” Unfortunately, the clock in Solace’s room struck noon. Charlotte let him go, then pulled his face down to kiss. “I forgive you for what you said last night. I understand it's been stressful, but please, never say he isn’t your son again. It breaks my heart.”

Gwain sighed in defeat. They both knew the situation wasn't ideal. But Charlotte knew in her heart that unless something changed, this would be the last time she would get to celebrate her son's birth. Harthford and the Aristocrats had already pressured Gwain about naming Elliot Harthford as his heir. Charlotte had cried and begged him for days to reconsider. The competition had been the only compromise she'd been able to get. But even she knew the Progressives didn't stand a chance. Gwenivar was cunning and a strong leader, but she didn't have the votes in Council. She had no way to pull Aristocrats to her side, even in the two years they would be given.

Sliding her arms around Gwain, Charlotte laid her head against his shoulder. She knew he felt trapped, too. He'd been a pawn in these games since he was born, and unfortunately didn't have the distance from the problem to realize how abused he'd been. It was times like this that Charlotte felt bad about how she manipulated his feelings, as well, but she couldn't let Harthford continue to destroy the country without a fight.

"I have to get back to my office," Gwain said regretfully.

Charlotte, too, had a lot of work to do. While arranging Blessing Day celebrations was always a tedious task, adding the Crown Competition to it was a stress she didn't ever want to repeat.

This year's Blessing Day celebrations had been more difficult to prepare than usual. It seemed like everything was going wrong. While Charlotte couldn't prove it, she knew Archduke Harthford's people were probably behind it all.

Releasing him, Charlotte stepped back and walked, holding his hand until the junction for the southern wing. While going south around the dining hall was a little out of Charlotte's way, it didn't matter to her.

Gwain kissed her one last time before releasing her hands and heading to his office.

Wiping her eyes one last time, Charlotte headed toward her sitting room in the eastern wing to get cleaned up. Her next stop would be the Temple, where she would ensure Matron Meadow was ready to perform the Blessing Day Service. Afterward, she needed to go to the kitchens to make sure everything was ready for dinner.

A smile pulled her lips. I hope Solace likes dinner. He wouldn't be allowed in the Temple for service, but he would be present for dinner.

Heart feeling lighter than it had in ages, she laced her fingers together and pressed them against her stomach. He seemed to like the fruit dessert, though the salad seemed to fascinate him as well.

What will Gwenivar's reaction be? Charlotte wondered. It was inevitable that the young woman would get wind of what had happened today. I need to make sure he has guards.

Her mind wandered to Sir Owen.

Did she trust that man to keep her son safe? Not really. She'd heard the rumors about him receiving Disciplinary Actions every week, even as Barracks Captain. It was a disgrace for a man of his rank to be in trouble like that constantly. But Charlotte also knew that likely he'd done nothing wrong and was receiving punishment because it amused Sir Kelvin to beat someone who couldn't retaliate.

Which brought her to the question... Did she trust Sir Kelvin to keep Solace safe?

Charlotte's lips pursed into a disgusted frown. Sir Kelvin couldn't be trusted with the silverware. But like everything in the palace, she didn't have the evidence to prove that he was up to something. Even if she did, the Aristocrats would do everything in their power to make her sound hysterical.

She had no option but to trust that Sir Owen would step up without being told by anyone to do what was right.

The battles she'd never started and the ones she'd lost had piled high in her mind. A crushing weight that kept her awake at night.

All because there was one thing she refused to let go of.

And today, it had borne fruit.

Her faith in Nyltia had been rewarded.

Licking her lips, Charlotte looked at the top of the eastern stairs as if they were the mountain of failures she'd accumulated, and now, these sacrifices would be worth it.

Today was her first victory against Harthford and the Aristocrats.

Today, her war against those greedy bastards really started. Every loss of power and dignity she'd suffered would be reclaimed. She would tear them apart, root and branch and salt the earth they'd grown in.

They would rue this day.

**

"Her Majesty has arrived, Matron," the priest announced from Matron Meadow's door.

The old woman looked blindly toward the voice. "Let her in."

Though Charlotte knew Matron Meadow had little respect for the queen, the Holy Mother couldn't openly disrespect her.

Entering, Charlotte glanced at the High Priest that stood near the Holy Mother. He folded his hands together silently, but had very little control of his face. He stared at the queen in open contempt.

Smiling Charlotte came to stand before the Matron's desk, her gaze flicking down to the document that lay on her desk. It bore the seal of the Holy Temple, but what didn't make sense was that it was apparently a marriage certificate. Charlotte didn't get the opportunity to read the names upon it before the high priest noticed her gaze and bent down to cover it with something else.

Matron Meadow didn't notice, her cataract-covered eyes having rendered her practically blind years ago. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Majesty?"

"I wished to verify that you are ready for the ceremony."

"It happens every year, and yet every year, you ask the same pointless question," Meadow retorted.

"Yet if I do not ask the question, I would be accused of being remiss in my duties as queen," Charlotte said with a smile. "May I bring Solace--"

"Absolutely not. This ceremony is to bless the souls of those in attendance," the high priest beside Matron Meadow interrupted.

Charlotte smiled in the man's face. It took everything she had not to laugh.

Matron waved her hand at the man. "Do not disrespect the queen." To her face, at any rate. "You may go."

The man gave the gesture of Obedience and retreated.

Matron Meadow blindly turned aside to find her pitcher of water.

"Allow me, Holy Mother." She caught the old woman's blindly groping hands to guide them to the pitcher. While the Holy Mother carefully poured herself a glass of water, Charlotte moved aside the paper covering the document to reveal part of the groom's name.

Smith.

While neither party had signed the document, it was legally binding. Nyltia's sigil at the bottom proved that the Goddess Herself had decreed this.

Who is Smith? It reminded her of that marginally vexing Smith and Company that had popped up in Lockton.

"If you're quite done wasting my time," Matron Meadow said, setting her glass down carefully.

"Is everything alright? There seems to be a lot of activity today," Charlotte said.

"It is Temple business. Nothing you should concern yourself with."

"I see," Charlotte mused. "Will you be attending dinner?"

"I do not have the energy to deal with both the ceremony and a tedious state dinner," Matron Meadow dismissed.

"Your presence will be missed," Charlotte said in a kind tone. "I will see you again in a few hours." Glad that she'd gotten the chore done, Charlotte retreated. She couldn't help but smile, though. Matron Meadow would regret not attending dinner.