THE CURSED QUEEN’S CONSORT

 Dominic's POV

Isabella's victory echoed through the halls like a hymn fierce, sharp, and unforgettable but inside her chambers, silence reigned. She sat on the edge of the bed, her sword laid neatly across her knees. Her face was unreadable. Still. Except for the slight twitch in her fingers like the rage hadn't left her body yet. Just settled somewhere deeper. "You didn't have to fight him," I said quietly, shutting the door behind me.

 She didn't look at me. "Yes, I did." "You could've let me." "Then they'd fear you," she snapped. "Not me." I crossed the room slowly, careful with my steps. "You're allowed to lean on someone, Isabella. Even a queen."

 Finally, she looked up at me. "And if I do, what happens when that someone gets taken?" My breath caught. She was trembling not with fear, but with restraint. She'd held back every emotion all day. Until now. "I can't lose you," she whispered. "You won't." "You say that like you're stronger than fate." I sat beside her, close enough to feel her warmth, her pain. "I don't need to be stronger than fate. I just need to be with you when it comes."

There was a pause. Then she reached for my hand. It wasn't romantic. It was raw but when her fingers laced through mine, something shifted. Her defenses. Her fear. The heavy crown no one could see. "I'm tired, Dominic," she said. "I'm tired of having to prove I belong." "You don't have to prove it anymore," I told her. "You just did."

 A knock interrupted us. Sharp. Measured. Isabella stiffened. I rose and answered it. A guard bowed, handing me a sealed parchment. "For Her Majesty. Urgent." I turned and gave it to her. She slit it open with the edge of her sword. Her eyes scanned it once. Then again. The color drained from her face.

 "Isabella?" I asked. She handed it to me silently.

 Your Highness, a child has been found bearing your mark. Concealed in the southern provinces. The people whisper of a blood heir. Come quietly or the court will.

 The paper trembled in my hand. "A child?" I said aloud. "What is this?" Her voice was hollow. "They think I have an heir." "Do you?" "No," she said, shaking her head. "Not one that lives." The words hit like a fist to the chest. And still… they were followed by silence but in that silence, a hundred daggers turned.