AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Prologue
Twenty-ThreeYearsAgo
The oracle’s gem-laden fingers graze just above my navel, and the icy texture of his magic swirls through the pit of my stomach, making the child within it somersault. It takes everything I have to remain calm. There’s too much depending upon this test to not, but the nerves creep up my spine, daring the tears to fall from my eyes. I will not cry. I can’t. The best thing I can do is power through.
I was supposed to have another week. One more week and the baby would’ve been born. I could’ve used my magic and cast an illusion. The king would’ve had an heir, making my future within this castle secure.
Sure, illusions are temporary, and eventually, I would’ve been at the mercy of my child revealing the truth, but by then, I might’ve won the king’s heart. At the least, I might’ve found a way to make the spell permanent. No one would’ve known what did or didn’t reside between their legs.
If only the king had waited…
The king’s impatience shattered that possibility. He doesn’t want to wait for the birth of our child. He wants to know now and has summoned the oracle to get the answers he craves.
The sightless man in front of me licks his dry, colorless lips. Where his eyes used to be are now long, molten scars, and the golden striations within them reflect the candlelight. Did the gold protruding through his flesh make him blind, or was it added after the fact to make his otherwise haunting face more pleasant to look at?
If so, it didn’t work.
His frigid hands circle my stomach again, and I cringe. I should be grateful, not all oracles are humanoid, and some don’t rely on their own magic or senses to deliver prophecies. Instead of having to endure the man’s touch, it could be something slithering down my throat, and for that, I am blessed.
“Well?” a rough voice snags my attention. The King of Solaria, dressed in his finest robes, has entered the chambers. His blond hair dusts across his shoulders as he draws closer, and I can’t help but smile when his eyes meet mine. “Will I have an heir or not?”
That question has haunted me for the last few months. If our child is a boy, I’ll be named Queen. My life here will be permanent. I’ll never want nor need anything again, and the starving teenage mage who entered this palace, begging to become one of the king’s surrogates, will be a long-forgotten memory.
If it’s a girl… Let’s just say my fate is much more grim.
Some still think I’m mad for doing this, but family was a luxury I lacked since my parents swung from the gallows. They were thieves with quite a reputation amongst the villagers. Not even the whore houses would hire me when they learned of my last name.
Due to my gift, the royal mages would look past my heritage, but I wasn’t old enough. My power hadn’t fully surfaced and until it did so, I was useless to them. I’d been given up hope when I heard of the king’s decree, stating the first woman to give him an heir would be named his queen. Suddenly, I had a way out of my fleeting life, and faced with the choice of becoming his surrogate or starving, the choice was easy.
The king almost didn’t accept me. I was too skinny, malnourished, younger than he’d have liked, but old enough. My soul was clinging to my bones by a thread. Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the only reason I’m alive now.
The other four surrogates chosen with me weren’t impregnated naturally. It was through a procedure he refers to as science. The babies had been tampered with in the womb, their essence mixed with that of other species. He’d do anything to override the curse placed on him by his first wife–the one preventing him from having an heir.
I was supposed to help him as his assistant until I was healthy enough to undergo the procedure myself. Except, the king has a thing for mages, specifically those who look like me–raven-haired and young. It’s precisely why I’m carrying his child now. I wasn’t healthy enough for his science, but that didn’t stop him from taking me to his bed.
I’m just glad that whatever creature we’ve created is small—normal, for the most part. After he learned that I was with child, he made his tweaks with potions and spells, cursing me the entire time for waiting so long to tell him. Apparently, it limited what adjustments he could make.
Honestly, I feared telling him sooner would earn me the same fate as the other surrogates, and he’d treated me so well…. It was as if I’d already been crowned. I was living in the same chambers as him and given the authority to run the castle staff as I saw fit. I didn’t want anything to change–still don’t. Perhaps it was naïve to believe it wouldn’t, and something about this meeting with the oracle gives me the sense it already has.
The sightless man sits back, wiping the anointed oil off his hands with a rag. “I’m afraid not, your highness. I don’t sense the presence of a male.” My gut spins as I lock my jaw. I’m utterly helpless, and my only hope is that I’ve formed enough of a bond with the king for him to show me mercy.
Stealing a glance over my shoulder, the king’s face is pale. Those blue eyes were once full of longing. Now, they’re just hollow.
Shit… “Check again.” I turn my attention back to the oracle. “You’re lying.”
He has to be…
“The oracle can’t lie, love. You know that.”
I jolt the moment a hand settles on my shoulder. “Then we try for another.” Craning my neck, I meet his vacant eyes. “Your way this time.”
For a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of the man I’ve come to know, but it vanishes. The color of his eyes fades into pure white, and I feel a tug on my power. This isn’t the man who whispered sweet nothings, who made me feel loved when I’ve only ever been an inconvenience. Standing before me is the ruthless King of Monsters from the legends–the mimic druid who can harness anyone’s power and copy it for himself. And now he has mine.
Why wait until now? He’s had months to take it, and had he asked, I would’ve given it willingly for a chance to stay in this castle–to stay his.
Mimicking is the rarest form of druidic gifts, and as far as I know, he’s the last of his kind. It’s kept him in power all these years, and it’s also what allows him to hold my life in the palm of his hand–for him to save or take as he sees fit.
I stare at him, desperately waiting for him to say something–anything–to soothe my weary soul. Just as I’m about to drown in the anticipation, he finally answers. “Perhaps.”
