"Oh, no!" Genevieve's panicked cry pierced through my haze of confusion. Her hands guided me down gently. "Take a deep breath, Lyra. It's okay. You will be okay."
Terror gripped me as I stared at the crimson stain spreading across my dress. I tried following Genevieve's instructions, forcing air into my lungs, but my thoughts spun wildly out of control.
Every emotion crashed into me at once—grief, rage, terror, agony—a crushing wave that left me drowning. The helplessness consumed me. I was losing another baby. The second time.
But worse than my own suffering was the knowledge that I'd dragged Genevieve and Beckett into this nightmare. If anything happened to them because of me, I'd never survive the guilt.
"What's wrong? What's happening to the queen?" Beckett's voice cracked with worry as he watched the blood continue to flow. "Is she injured? Where is she hurt?"
