Chapter One:

Camellia thought there was something ironic about being the most powerful woman in the country while also unable to hold a simple soup spoon. She pinched her lips closed and shook her head when the maid lifted the spoon from the bowl. Her stomach already protested against the small amount of clear broth she'd swallowed.

"Consort Harold has returned, my lady," Adam Beckett, the head of the Royal Guard, said from his position in the doorway.

He kept his eyes fixed on a spot just over Camellia's head. He'd stopped meeting her gaze around the time she'd taken to her sickbed. It made her heart ache. Had she started losing the faith of her most trusted people? Adam had been a constant in her life since before her coronation. Losing him would be akin to losing a limb.

"Thank you, Adam. Please tell Harold that I would like to see him as soon as possible."

With a bow of the head, Adam backed out into the hallway. Camellia bit back a sigh as her maid Carol plumped the pillows behind her back and tucked the thick quilt under her chin. She felt like a child instead of the ruler of Avedra. As her health continued to deteriorate, she often wished that her mind would follow. It was one thing to be frail as a newborn and quite another to be aware of that weakness and trapped inside a failing body.

"My darling girl!"

At Harold's entrance, Carol flashed Camellia a sly smile before ducking out of the room and closing the door.

"Hello, Harry." Camellia forced her lips to curl up into a smile. She injected a note of cheerfulness into her tone. She tilted her face up for his kiss. Though his lips were dry and tasted of tobacco, they were warm and firm against her chilled skin. She sighed softly when he moved away far too soon. There had always been distance between them, but it had grown exponentially over the past months.

Harold perched on the edge of the bed and clasped her bony hands between his larger, warmer ones. Dark blue eyes regarded her carefully. "I heard that Doctor Ehle spent the morning going over your latest test results. Please tell me he finally has made a breakthrough."

Camellia's heart sank. She'd hoped to postpone the conversation for as long as possible, but Harry always went straight for the kill. It was one of the things she admired most about him. She swallowed and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears pooling in her eyes.

"I am dying." She'd practiced saying it her head a hundred times, had tried a dozen different ways to word it, but it still didn't feel right on her tongue. She doubted there was a good way to inform your spouse of your imminent demise.

Harold's mouth fell open. His grip on Camellia's hands tightened. "Is there anything Doctor Ehle can do?"

"No. The virus attacked my internal organs. Even if he were able to stop the virus from spreading, too much damage has already been done." Camellia congratulated herself for getting the words out without wavering or her voice cracking. Doctor Ehle had offered to give Harold the diagnosis, but Camellia had insisted on telling him herself. Her prognosis fell under the heading of 'better or worse', and they'd vowed to tackle every obstacle together.

"Iris is a celebrated healer. Has she been consulted?"

"Not even she can cheat death, dear. She has done what she can for my pain, but this is beyond even her abilities."

"What about organ transplant? Surely they can donate what you need. Have Iris and Violet been tested?"

Camellia's eyes flashed angrily. She'd lashed out when a similar suggestion had been made by one of her advisors, but she refrained from yelling at Harold. At least she knew his concerned stemmed from his affection for her and not his desire to maintain the status quo. What man wouldn't try and do everything to save his wife from death?

"They are vital organs, Harry," she said gently, "if I need them then Rissy and Vi do as well."

"But they are not…" He broke off, closed his eyes and exhaled noisily. His face was ashen and his fingers trembled slightly.

"Not what, Harry?" Camellia slipped her hands out of his grip and gently caressed his tanned forearm. She longed to be wrapped up in his strong arms, nothing ever seemed to hurt when he held her, but they needed to finish their painful discussion before she could properly welcome him home.

"Not you, my darling girl. They are not you."

Warm tears spilled out of Camellia's eyes and over her cheeks. Affection swelled her heart until she feared it would burst. How had she gotten so lucky? Theirs had been a political marriage arranged by their parents, but she couldn't have asked for a better man. Harold adored her because she was Camellia Veadra and not because she was Queen of Avedra.

"Oh, my dear. I am very sorry that I have to leave you so soon." She lifted his hand and pressed her lips his knuckles. "I had hoped for a lifetime of love and laughter."

"And children." Harold's lips quirked up in a wistful smile. "Adorable little girls with my hair and those beautiful Veadra eyes. Little queens and princesses we could spoil."

Too choked up to speak, she nodded in agreement. They had often discussed having a large family rather than just the typical 'heir and spare.' Though Avedra was a matriarchal monarchy, Harold was third in line for the throne in his home country of Charis. Their children would have been powerful political pawns in either country, not that Camellia would have let them be used by anyone. Her parents had taught her that children were more than a commodity.

"I… oh, Harry… I will be dead by month's end."

Harold nodded once, eyes still squeezed shut. He patted Camellia's knee before rising from the bed. When he finally met her tearful gaze, there was no warmth or kindness in his cold, blue stare. "Well, I have to say that this not how I planned it."

"P-planned it?" Camellia struggled to sit upright. She cursed her stupid, weak body when she couldn't summon the strength to move. "What are you talking about?"

"I married the wrong Veadra bitch. I should have gone for pretty but naïve Iris." Harold examined the pre-loaded syringes on Camellia's nightstand. While playing the dutiful husband, he'd insisted on learning how to treat Camellia's pain and how to sedate her when the pain grew unbearable. "I was prepared to be patient, but you've forced my hand."

Camellia's heart thudded painfully in her chest. She bristled at the way he said Iris's name. Though Harold was her husband, Rissy was her little sister. She'd promised their parents she would protect both her sisters. While Violet could take care of herself, Iris was the gentle sister. The heir. Camellia's fists clenched.

"I demand to know what you're talking about! What do you mean you should have married Rissy?"

"I'm afraid your time for making demands is over, my queen." Harold jabbed a needle into Camellia's arm and depressed the plunger. "Welcome to the fall of the House of Veadra."