Mira lay sprawled across her bed, her body tangled in the rich silken sheets. The ceiling had never looked so high and far away. Lifting a hand, she lazily reached for it, then let her arm fall back to the mattress. It wasn’t for lack of want to get up, but rather she was too tired. Her skin was flushed, a slight sheen of sweat still lingering in the air, and her chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of her exhaustion. There was no getting up or doing much of anything. Not for a while, anyway.


    The guard beside her, fully dressed now, adjusted his uniform with a quiet precision, his movements swift and practiced. For his age, he was handsome, if not a bit plain. There wasn’t much remarkable about him, but there almost was, and that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. He avoided looking at her, as did she at him—there was no need for more than the unspoken acknowledgment that had passed between them.


    “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low, still tinged with the sharp edge of their recent indulgences. “It will stay private, as always.” His eyes flickered to her with a mixture of fondness and duty.


    Mira nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, “I will be leaving for the Academy soon… You know what to do. Keep this to yourself.” She let out a breath, slightly disappointed. He was the sort of man she admired—strong, capable, responsible—but there was something in his dutifulness that pushed him further from her grasp. He was already promised to someone else. A fiancée, a child on the way… the story was familiar, and it reminded her of what she couldn’t have.


    A normal life.


    Quiet. Ordinary. Somewhere in the mountains, unbothered by duties.


    Mira turned over, thinking better of it. What would happen to her people? She couldn’t abandon them simply because she wanted solitude and a simple life.


    The guard, put back together, gave a respectful bow and, with a final glance, left her room without a word.


    Sighing, Mira gathered herself, the heat of the moment now fading into the quieter, more sober reality of her thoughts. Sex was easy. It was quick and cheap when she wanted it, and he’d been in no position to say no. Mira had noticed his lingering looks for some time, and a request from the queen… he was eager to please her. He even offered his services without her mention of interest. Still, the comfort and pleasure never lasted long. And then he was gone.


    She cleaned up, the distant echo of the guard’s footsteps fading from her ears as she straightened her room, pillows, bedding, her dress, and hair. She could never let it get too far out of control. There were always eyes, always someone watching—someone ready to claim the mistakes of a queen.


    But it wasn’t as though she could stop. She still felt the heat, the lingering throb that demanded attention. And it was growing harder to ignore. What satisfaction she gained from her favorite guard curbed her rising appetite only enough for her gaze to fixate on another. It wasn’t right, she knew that, but it was beyond her control. Every fiber of her being yearned for the chance to bear a child—a blessed daughter. And she knew that, and understood the inherit problem of it when she was a queen without consort, and too young to be expected to have one right away.


    Damn her nature.


    As she finished tidying, looking more put together again, the door creaked open, revealing Ysara, her face tight with concern. She could already hear the lecture heavy on her tongue and the disappointment in her voice before she started. Mira looked at her, the slight flicker of annoyance in her chest making it harder to maintain her usual composure. The last thing she wanted was to be told how wrong she was for her conduct, her needs, her… loneliness.


    “Are you well, Your Majesty?” Ysara’s tone was laced with frustration, her words heavy, her eyes scanning Mira with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. She was want for asking pointless questions, to the point she rarely asked them if she didn’t already know the answer.


    Mira flinched inwardly, but masked it with a careless smile and turned on her toes. “I’m fine,” she muttered, brushing her hands through her disheveled hair to make it seem as if she were simply having a disordered day. “Just… tidying up a bit between studying and public appearances.”


    “Tidying up? Or indulging in more distractions?” Ysara’s voice was sharp, her gaze unrelenting. There it was—the seething condemnation Mira had expected as the high priestess hissed through her teeth. “I have seen the patterns, Mira. The increase in your… activities. The mingling with dubious crowds. And yet you cannot even manage to channel your own magic anymore, not without rendering you too fatigued. This disease is worsening, and you are still turning a blind eye to it.”


    Mira stiffened, her stomach knotting. “I told you, I’m fine,” she repeated, but her voice lacked its usual confidence and came only just above a whisper. She knew Ysara was right. The exhaustion was becoming worse, and after each magical attempt, she felt weaker—dizzier. But she refused to admit it. If she did, she’d have to admit that it was killing her, and no one wanted a dying queen. Not again.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “You’re not,” Ysara replied bluntly. “You cannot continue using magic recklessly. I’m not deaf to the talk of the city of your romps to the children’s ward, healing the sick again. Do you think you have so much power in you that you have any right to turn their fates? The gods did not bless you with godhood; you’re still subject to the limits of your own body. This disease—it is a result of overuse, Mira. The Styxin have studied it extensively. Magic Illness is not some game you can reverse or ignore. And if you keep ignoring it, you will pay the price., and so will your people.”


    Mira’s jaw tightened, but she refused to acknowledge the creeping sense of dread that surged through her chest. “Enough. I have to leave soon for the Academy. There are already plenty of things to keep me occupied without you lecturing me about how I engage with my people. Besides, I have to be ready for how different it will be when I return. It’s been months.”


    Ysara’s expression softened, though only slightly. “Indeed. But there is something else we must discuss, something urgent.”


    Mira raised a brow, curious despite herself. Ysara moved closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “A mate. Every queen must have one, and your recent… choices have made it clear that you are approaching the time when that choice must be made. You need someone to help secure an heir in case the worst happens. You are within your expectation to take a consort or concubine. Both if you desire. Either way, you need to secure a mate.”


    Mira’s stomach twisted at the mention. The thought of another man, someone to bear her children, made her insides churn. Wasn’t it enough to cling to the guards in waves of pleasure and passion on a whim and be bound to a prince too reckless for his own good? Now, it wasn’t that she didn’t understand the necessity—she did—but it still felt like a betrayal. A part of her wanted to rebel, to ignore it. But she couldn’t. Her destiny had been decided long before she was ever born.


    “I don’t want to choose someone based solely on the chance of bearing a child,” Mira muttered, her voice hollow.


    Ysara let out a soft laugh, though it was more amused than mocking. “Love is not the point here, Mira. It’s about securing the future of your kingdom. Breeding is a biological fact, not a romantic fantasy. There is plenty of time after to seek out courtship.”


    A faint flush spread across her skin. She had hoped for something more than that—some deeper connection, even if it was fleeting—but Ysara’s words rang true. A queen could not afford to think of romance. She had a duty, and that came first. Even if that duty was securing the lineage.


    “If you don’t mind,” Ysara continued, “the next holiday is a perfect opportunity. The peak of spring… ideal for conception. You should meet with some suitors then. Choose one. It will be… productive.”


    Mira closed her eyes, struggling to push down the heat that surged through her. She could feel her body betraying her, her arousal rising uncontrollably, as if responding to the mention of a mate. The very idea of it sent a wild thrill and flash of something—a distant dream, maybe—of someone suited for her, perfect and divine, but then it was gone. A lingering thread in the fabrics of tales her mother had told her of a prince she was meant to find, who sought after her long before she could have known or understood that he would sacrifice everything just to be with her. A soulmate.


    “Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”


    Ysara smiled, beaming with pride. In her eyes, Mira would become soon the queen she hoped for, even if reluctantly along the way. Mira, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. Her mind wandered. What would Haros think? If she took a mate, what would he feel? The bond radiated echoes through it, and if she had a mate, he’d surely know of any sort of… intimacy. Would he sense her pregnancy before she knew about it? Would he resent her? She didn’t know if she could bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. The wounded look he would give her when his proposition washed away with the changing tides. It wasn’t right..


    Ysara crossed the room, setting a hand on Mira’s shoulder, sensing the shift in her thoughts. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” she said, her voice gentler now. “It’s normal. Styxin women feel these urges. I, myself, have had three mates. All of them produced girls quickly, and once that need was fulfilled, I was free of it. Madelena had two. It’s just a part of our nature. No one has ever faulted a Styxin for who they are, and not once has the same ever been put upon dragons. He will understand.”


    Mira felt a pang of guilt, knowing she had been hesitant not because of the implications for her kingdom, but because of Haros. What would he think of her choosing another? Could he share her so easily? Doubts crept in like shadows as she thought back to the way he whipped his tail and held her captive in the temple chamber. It wasn’t in him to be amenable to sharing. And with each heavy thud of her heart, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be shared.


    Ysara seemed to pick up on her unease. “You’re overthinking this. And besides, you’re not alone. The dragons have a particular interest when the queen is expecting. It’s a bond they form with the queen, a protectiveness born of magic from the gods. No one will question Haros’s presence by your side during that time. You need to worry less about how it may appear to other people. The call to him will be irresistible, and the Styxin will delight to see that their queen and heir are so protected.”


    Mira tried to accept Ysara’s logic, but in the back of her mind, it wasn’t what others would think that troubled her. It was what Haros might think. What if he thought she had moved on, that she no longer needed him, that she had found someone else to fulfill the role? She paused in place, replaying that thought. Why would he feel that way, though? She wasn’t anything to him, anymore than he was to her: a partner. And she wasn’t replacing him… she was only… only… prioritizing someone else. The thought stung. He’d been in her dreams and wandering thoughts so long, the idea of replacing him with someone else felt wrong. But there it was, replacing him with someone else even in her thoughts was impossible. He’d hate her if he knew.


    Mira’s stomach tightened again as her worries intensified. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, not when her heart still wavered between what was expected of her and what she felt. And if Haros was to be part of that future… Would he ever see her the same way again?


    Ysara’s hand rested gently on Mira’s shoulder, offering comfort. “You’ll find your mate, and you will soar above all expectations. You always do.”


    But Mira wasn’t so sure anymore.