Yvonne
"His seed needs to take."
The words repeated in my head like a broken record, each syllable slamming into me like a tidal wave.
His seed. That meant his sperm, right?
Then take hold. That meant… it had to mix with my eggs. To create a baby.
A baby.
An heir for his throne.
My breath hitched. That meant his cum was inside me. Right now. He'd come inside me.
I never let anyone finish inside me. Never.
And now… this German girl was making sure none of it came out.
I let out a laugh, sharp, hollow, unhinged. It bubbled up from my throat, spilling into the room. It wasn't funny. Not even close. But what else could I do?
Me? Pregnant?
I don't like children. I've never wanted them.
"M-My lady, are you okay?"
Klara's voice pulled me back. I met her gaze, her expression tight with worry. And suddenly, it all crashed down on me.
I could really get pregnant.
This wasn't my body. This wasn't my life. But the queen, the real queen, wasn't here. I was.
And it was her duty to bear this monster's children.
But she wasn't here.
I was.
And I couldn't do this.
I never planned to have kids.
I wasn't even supposed to be alive in the next two months… in my original body.
My chest tightened. My breath came in short, sharp bursts.
No. No. This wasn't happening.
I grabbed Klara's wrist, my fingers digging into her skin. "How do I stop it?" My voice was barely above a whisper, but the desperation in it was deafening. "How do I make sure I don't get pregnant?"
Klara's eyes widened. "M-My lady?"
"There has to be something," I pressed, my grip tightening. "A tea, a potion—something."
She hesitated. That was all I needed to see.
There was a way. She just didn't want to say it.
"Klara." I forced my voice to steady, even though my hands were trembling. "Tell me."
She swallowed, glancing toward the heavy wooden doors before leaning in closer. "There are herbs," she whispered, voice barely audible. "But… if His Majesty finds out…"
I didn't let her finish. "I don't care." My heart pounded against my ribs. "Where do I get them?"
"My lady, it's dangerous."
So is carrying his child.
But I didn't say that out loud.
I wasn't the queen. I wasn't some royal bride eager to secure an heir.
I was a stranger in this body, and I would do whatever it took to make sure I didn't bring his blood into the world.
No matter the cost.
But Klara pulled away from me and climbed off the bed. "My lady, why would you speak so? You have always loved children, and such words could see you to the guillotine."
I followed her off the bed, staggering slightly before steadying myself.
I wanted to scream, I'm not your princess! but I bit back the anger, my hands clenching at my sides.
Calm down, Yvonne.
Calm down.
Then I noticed it—the way the other maids exchanged glances. My heart skipped a beat.
They could tell Teresa.
Or worse, the king.
I had seen enough historical films to know how this worked—there was always a spy or two among the queen's attendants. Sometimes, they worked for the king, watching his wife if he didn't trust her. And I was certain—he didn't trust me now.
Other times, they worked for outside forces—someone plotting against the king and queen.
But the main point remained the same—whatever was said in this room could never leave it.
Klara was right. The king wouldn't hesitate to behead his own wife.
And yet, I had been willing to do the same—willing to take the life of any child that might form inside me.
But that was different.
I pushed the thought away and looked at Klara. She was pale, staring at me as if seeing me for the first time. And then it hit me.
Klara spoke only German.
I had spoken to her in German.
But the other maids—they spoke only Spanish.
Had they understood me?
I had to be sure.
I stepped past Klara and into the center of the room. The four other maids stood with their heads bowed, their hands neatly folded.
I studied them, forcing my trembling fingers to still. If even one of them had understood my words, I was in grave danger.
Turning to the nearest maid, I spoke carefully.
"Hast du das verstanden?" (Did you understand that?)
She lifted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes. Then, she glanced past me at Klara.
I nodded slightly.
She looked genuinely lost.
I turned to another maid. "Hast du mich gehört?" (Did you hear me?)
They exchanged uncertain glances but remained silent.
Then, one stepped forward. My breath caught in my throat.
"My lady, does something trouble you?" she asked in Spanish, her gaze flickering briefly to Klara before returning to me.
I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Ignoring her, I tested them one last time.
"Wenn du mich verstehst, dann antworte jetzt." (If you understand me, answer now.)
Silence.
No reaction.
After a moment, I smiled and turned back to Klara, who now had a relieved expression.
"Wir sind sicher." (We are safe.) I whispered.
But Klara only shook her head. "You are not as the princess I once knew. She would never think to do such a thing."
I rolled my eyes and turned away, my gaze drifting to the window. But deep down, I knew she was right.
Not about her princess.
But about what I had been willing to do.
It wasn't right.
But she could never understand.
As I stared out the window, lost in thought, I failed to notice the slight smirk curling at the lips of a maid standing behind me.
I should have noticed it, but fear consumed me, fear of what was to come, of the fate that awaited me. My mind was too clouded to see the danger lurking behind me.