It had been more than two months since the beginning of the competition to see who would earn the right to the throne, and none of us were any closer than when we started.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I refused to lose, especially to someone like James, who didn’t care for anyone besides himself. He didn’t care about the throne, not like I did.

He hadn’t spent years of his life being groomed for court life, being raised for greatness. Instead, he had spent all his time abusing his power to get what he wanted. His goals were so, so low. Insectile. He had no vision, no ambition. No need.

Not like me.

I needed the throne more than a man lost in the desert needs a drink.

I sat in the bathroom in my private quarters, staring at the wall, because I couldn’t bring myself to look at the pregnancy test clutched in my hand. I couldn’t bear to be disappointed again, even though I should be used to it by now. My entire life was nothing more than one letdown after another.

First, there was the discovery that women didn’t hold as much power in court as their husbands did. Times had changed since then, becoming a little more open and accepting, but it was still quite clear that many women lacked the desire to take on responsibility when they could have their husbands do all that.

From a young age, I vowed that I would never have a husband. I wouldn’t split my responsibilities or let anyone take them away from me.

Unfortunately, a young girl didn’t have much say in her future, and I had found myself betrothed to a man twice my age when I was only sixteen.

A pity he fell down those steps only two years into our marriage. He’d hit his head no less than four separate times while tumbling down the entire flight from the top of the palace to the bottom. He was dead before he reached the first floor, according to medical reports.

I had my first miscarriage not long after that.

And another in the years to come, after leading on a young, foreign lordling for several months. He never knew I didn’t want him.

I just wanted his baby.

I was going to have a daughter, and I would raise her to be a proud and independent woman like me, with no need for a man.

Breaking out of my thoughts, I held my breath and looked at the pregnancy test. The little screen was bright and clear, leaving no doubt as to the result.

Not pregnant.

“For fuck’s sake!” I shouted, and threw the test at the wall. The stick bounced off the tiles and clattered to the floor, the sounds too tiny and meek to be of any real satisfaction.

Snarling to myself, I stomped out of the bathroom and tore at my bed, ripping the blankets and pillows onto the floor. I went after my bookcase next, pulling books out and throwing them at the walls, the ceiling, the dresser. Rather than abating, my frustration only seemed to grow bigger, more intense.

When the rest of Denmark had been busy being shocked by Queen Delia’s abdication announcement, I had been scheming. This was perfect. It fit in exactly with what I wanted so much.

I would have that proud, independent daughter, and she would be queen after me! We could change the world together, giving other women the resources to break out of the grasp of the men in their lives!

And no cousin of mine was going to ruin that for me.

Someone knocked on my door. Beating up on a person was a far more attractive possibility than tossing around lifeless items in my room. I hurried over to the door and threw it open to find none other than Dickon staring in at me.

“What the fuck do you want?” I snapped. I didn’t have much patience for him, the way he drifted around James with his eyes all forlorn and puppyish.

Dickon leaned to the side and glanced over my shoulder. “And how is my favorite radical feminist today? A little bothered?”

“Dickon,” I warned.

We weren’t exactly friends. More like long term acquaintances, since we were both members of court and often crossed paths.

“Another negative test?”

“Another?” I repeated.

Dickon shrugged. “Everyone knows you’ve been taking them every week.”

I raised my hand to my chest, mortified. “Excuse me? How does everyone know that?”

“I guess the maids who clean your rooms like to talk. If you want, I can estimate for you how many men you’ve slept with. That’s also common knowledge.”

I didn’t need him to estimate. I’d kept count.

Fifty four. Fifty four young men over the course of two months, most of them so terrible at sex they couldn’t find their own dicks in the dark.

Even so, I was horrified that so much of my private business was out in the air. I’d have to fire those goddamn maids. No, I’d make their lives a living hell. They’d regret the day they crossed Lesandra Cobb.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said, my voice stiff. I started to shut the door, but Dickon caught it and held it open. Damn his masculine strength. I glared at him. “What do you want? Don’t you have a mongrel man to pine after?”

Dickon flinched, shifting on his feet. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about.”

A bolt of fear shot through me. “Is Reid pregnant?”

“No. But they’re going to visit the fertility clinic tomorrow for a blood test. They’ve been … doing something to increase their chances. Something that works.”

“What is it?” I demanded.

Dickon kept shifting around, like he had to use the bathroom. It was quite annoying, and made me want to slap him and demand that he man up. “James and Reid have a friend named Allison, who runs a health food store. It just so happens that Allison is my … my ex.”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“I’m bisexual,” Dickon said defensively.

No wonder he’s so flighty. Always straddling both worlds.

“Anyway, Allison sold James this tea that she’s known for. It boosts fertility, and a lot of her customers have had success with it.”

My eyes widened. I didn’t need an increase in fertility. I needed something to help me keep my babies. However, I didn’t like this news at all. “You’re sure of this?”

“Allison and I are still pretty close. I visited her after James came back to the palace with a bag from her shop, and she confirmed it for me.”

“I see. And why are you telling me this?”

Dickon puffed out his cheeks. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Then he blurted out, “Because I love James!”

“No shit?”

He ignored me. “I’ve been at his side far longer than that Reid bitch. I’ve tried and tried to show him that I would be a much better match for him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice me.

“That’s why I’ve decided to help you. If you can get to the throne first, James will get rid of Reid. And I’ll be there to step in and pick up the pieces. I’ll be able to show him how much I love him.”

That is a terrible plan.

I felt sorry for Dickon, who was too blind to see that James would never be interested in him. James liked to be challenged, not pampered and adored for no reason. Dickon’s plan was doomed to fail.

But I could use his willingness to my advantage. He’d do anything to help me now, if he thought it meant an end to his lovesickness.

If I could confuse him, even better.

Steeling myself, I reached over and placed my hand on Dickon’s shoulder. He winced and stared at me, but didn’t move away. “Does this mean you want my help?” he asked, breathless. His eyes were as large as serving platters, beseeching me to help him in turn.

“Of course I accept,” I said, putting a slight purr into my words. He wasn’t stupid. I couldn’t lay it on too thick at first without making him suspicious. “You came at the right time. I was about to give up hope.”

“Me, too,” Dickon choked out. “But we can work together now to accomplish our goals.”

“Come inside my room,” I urged. I tugged on his shoulder. “We need to talk in private.”

Dickon came to me willingly, stepping inside my room. He glanced around, then looked back at me. “We need to come up with a plan.”

“I already have a plan.” I touched his cheek, a kind gesture that left him with a bulge at the front of his slacks. Poor Simpleton.

I decided to back off for the moment instead of pushing for more. He would be no use to me if he came in his pants. “Tell me more about that health food store.”

“It’s very New Age,” Dickon replied. He narrowed his eyes to concentrate, which almost made him look cute. “There are a lot of so-called superfoods, and vegetarian and vegan items. Detoxifiers. Stuff for cleanses. Vitamins and supplements, and teas for many different effects. She also sells aromatherapy items, and incense, and…”

I let him ramble, then jumped in when he paused for breath. “Is there anything that would make a person sick?”

Dickon stared at me. “Sick?”

“Just a little sick,” I amended, even though I was thinking in the exact opposite direction. “I’m thinking, if we can make Reid under the weather, he won’t want to have sex. James won’t force him. That will give me a much better chance of becoming pregnant before him.”

Dickon nodded eagerly, and he actually smiled when I stroked his cheek again. I decided to leave my hand on his shoulder, fluttering my fingers gently. He grew a little short of breath, and his flagpole stood at attention.

Good. Very, very good. “We won’t hurt him,” Dickon said. “Just give ourselves a handicap advantage.”

“Right,” I agreed soothingly. “So is there anything like that?”

“I’ll have to ask Allison if she has anything that can induce vomiting. Like, to get poison out.”

Nice try, but I want the poison in. Not out.

“I would actually like to do the research myself, if you don’t mind. That way, you won’t be the one doing all the work.”

Dickon shrugged. “Sure. Just don’t wait too long.”

“Believe me,” I said. “I have no intention of waiting. Although there is something you could do to help me in the meantime.”

I took my chance and dropped my hand across his chest, all the way to his groin. He didn’t argue when I led him to bed, guiding him by his convenient handle.

When we were done, I sent him away and dove into research. It took less than 10 minutes for me to find what I needed: herbal supplements that could be dangerous.

I chose two from the list. Kava, which was commonly used for anxiety, though it often solved the problem by killing the person taking it. It only took a few months for heavy kava usage to cause fatal, irreversible liver damage. It also came with a warning specifically about avoiding usage if you were pregnant or breastfeeding.

The other herb I chose was pennyroyal. Pennyroyal oil could be used for constipation and other stomach problems. One of those stomach problems … well, the oil was used historically to abort an infant. Ingesting it could also cause nausea, vomiting, and a whole host of other unpleasant events.

I could send a servant for both of these herbs, with the story that the person who needed them was struggling with anxiety and was having stomach troubles as a result. I would not send Dickon. The last thing I needed was for Allison to blab to him about the side effects. As stupid as he was, he would catch on to my plot. I couldn’t have that.

Armed with these herbs, I could prepare myself for short and long

term situations. Reid would be under the weather, in no mood to have sex. And if he was already pregnant, well, he wouldn’t be for long.

I had to do this.

I had to prove myself for the sake of women everywhere, and because I couldn’t bear to lose after coming so far.

After my servant came back with the herbs, I saw to it that a little of my money found its way into Dickon’s bank account. If he was going to whore himself out to me to get back at James, then I would treat him like one.