Silence followed the question.
A long, heavy, jaw-hits-the-table kind of silence, where ti stretched and cracked and all the tea in the world couldn’t fill the sudden vacuum of that sentence.
"Are you pregnant, Your Majesty?"
Elysia blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she laughed.
Too loud. Too sharp.
"What? No. No, no. I don’t think so. That’s absurd."
Tilda, halfway through sipping her tea, slowly lowered her cup. "You don’t think so?"
"I an—" Elysia waved her hand like she was swatting away a fly made of questions. "I’m just a little tired. That’s all. Maybe low blood sugar. I haven’t slept well. Too much toast. Not enough—uh, iron."
The other maids stared at her like she’d just claid the moon was made of soup.
"You threw up yesterday morning," Arna said gently.
"Coincidence."
"You ate half a jar of pickled radishes for lunch."
"I was experinting."
"You cried during a towel folding demonstration," Tilda added helpfully.
"It was a very emotional towel!"
Silence.
Then—
"Oh my gods," whispered one of the younger maids. "She’s totally pregnant."
"I am not—" Elysia stood so fast her chair scraped back like a war cry. "—I’m not pregnant! Okay? I would know if I were pregnant. I’d feel... different."
"You do feel different," soone muttered.
"I’m not—" Elysia started again, pointing at them all like a general surrounded by a mutinous army of gossips and cinnamon rolls, "—pregnant. I don’t even have—wait. Can I get pregnant?"
That stopped the room cold.
A long pause.
And then Tilda said, "You’ve had sex with Malvoria, right?"
Elysia turned crimson. "That’s none of your business!"
"I’m taking that as a yes," Tilda said, standing. "Right. Girls, we’re moving."
"Moving? Where?" Elysia demanded.
"To your chambers."
"What, why—?"
"You’re peeing on sothing today, Princess."
"I’m QUEEN!"
"You’re a maybe mom!"
Everything after that happened at a frankly alarming pace.
The tea party exploded into motion, like soone had yelled "fire" and "pregnancy" in the sa breath. Napkins were flung. Cakes were abandoned mid-bite. Soone grabbed the entire sugar bowl by instinct. The pink banners whipped in the wind as the maids herded Elysia out of the east balcony with the determination of won who’d seen enough scandal to know the signs and enough drama to respect it.
"I don’t need an escort," Elysia insisted, trying to wiggle away from Arna’s surprisingly strong grip.
"You need supervision," Tilda muttered.
"You’re treating like I’m possessed!"
"You might be pregnant, Your Majesty. That’s worse."
They moved fast through the halls, skirts swishing, trays dropped off mid-run, Elysia all but carried through corridors as confused guards stepped aside like a confused parade was passing by.
By the ti they reached her chambers, Elysia had given up trying to maintain any illusion of control.
She was dropped—gently—into one of her velvet armchairs, a lemon tart still sohow clutched in her hand.
"I don’t need to take a test," she said, chewing slowly now. "I just need to wait a few days, and I’ll probably get my period and then we’ll laugh about all this and—"
"Arna," Tilda interrupted, "get the box."
Arna nodded, already moving toward the enchanted cabinet near the vanity.
Elysia narrowed her eyes. "What box?"
"The one we keep for ergencies."
"I am not an ergency."
Tilda looked her dead in the eyes. "You are literally the potential mother of the next royal heir to the Demon Throne."
Elysia went silent.
Arna returned a second later holding a small, intricately carved wooden case. Magical runes flickered across its surface, and it humd faintly with enchantnt.
Elysia frowned at it. "That looks cursed."
"It’s not cursed."
"It glows."
"It’s highly accurate and used by demon nobles for centuries," Arna explained, setting the box carefully on the vanity table.
"Do they all glow?"
"It’s infused with truth detection magic."
"That doesn’t sound reassuring."
"You’ll thank it if you are pregnant."
Elysia buried her face in her hands. "I can’t believe I’m about to do this."
Tilda crossed her arms. "Believe it. Because if you don’t go into that bathroom in the next ten seconds, I will."
"You can’t pee for !"
"I will figure it out."
"I hate all of you," Elysia muttered, snatching the box.
"We love you too," Arna said sweetly.
Elysia stomped toward the bathroom, dragging the box behind her like a portable doom altar. She shut the door with more force than necessary, tossed the box onto the marble counter, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She looked fine.
A little pale. Maybe a bit tired. Her hair was frizzy around the edges, and her eyes were slightly puffy from too much sugar and not enough rest.
Nothing that scread gestating an heir.
She opened the box.
Inside was a single smooth crystal rod, slender and pale pink, wrapped in ancient velvet with faint silver embroidery that spelled the runes for "truth," "health," and "confirmation."
Gods. Even the testing device was elegant and terrifying.
She read the instructions—twice. Then again, slower. Then groaned and did what needed to be done, all while muttering dramatic things under her breath.
"You’re the Princess of Arvandor, Elysia. You’ve survived battles. Assassination attempts. You had breakfast with a woman who casually executes generals. You can pee on a stick."
The rod glowed faintly when she finished.
She set it on the edge of the basin.
Waited.
And then panicked.
"I shouldn’t have looked."
She looked.
One side of the crystal remained clear.
The other?
A glowing red sigil.
Positive.
Her heart stopped.
The silence inside the bathroom was total. Like the world had pressed pause.
She stared at the sigil, hoping it might vanish.
It didn’t.
She stood there for nearly a minute.
Then two.
Then, finally, with the grace of soone whose entire reality had been turned upside down by a magical fertility rod in a velvet box, she opened the door.
The maids were all crowded near the doorway like a gaggle of overinvested aunties at a village wedding.
The mont they saw her face, the room fell silent.
Elysia held up the rod.
It glowed.
Bright. Unmistakable.
No one spoke.
Tilda blinked. "So..."
Elysia stared at them.
And said, softly—
"...I’m going to be sick."
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