"And this… this is what I get in return? Assaulted in my condition? Attacked in my own home?" Marisol wailed, throwing her hands in the air.
"It is not your home," Helena snapped, finally finding her voice again.
But it lacked its earlier fire because now she was reeling.
She turned to me slowly. "Elowen… is that true?"
My throat burned. I nodded once. The sound Helena made was not anger. It was devastation.
"Why?" she whispered.
Why.
Because I had been desperate.
Because Gideon had looked at me with that careful, patient disappointment when the Council began murmuring about succession.
Because I had believed love meant sacrifice. Because I had thought that if I gave him an heir, everything else would settle. Because I had been terrified of losing my father's legacy.
All of that tangled inside me, but what came out was, "I didn't know what else to do."
Helena staggered back a step as though struck. "You let her… You let her carry your child?"
