“What is it you need, My King?”
He turns to me. “It seems you are finally going to be worth the trouble it has been to keep you
here.”
A shiver runs up my spine as a cool smile stretches across his face. For years, I’ve longed for a purpose. Something that went beyond merely standing silently
beside the man who convinced an entire kingdom I was his daughter. However, I very much doubt the purpose he is going to give me will leave me any better
than I am now.
Especially given Barclay’s dark smile.
“What are you to do with her?” Bonnie bursts into the room, having clearly been eavesdropping.
Ezra’s hand grips the hilt of his blade tighter, eyes widening as he stares at his wife. Adrenaline pulses through my body. If the king takes what she just did at
heart, he could call for her punishment. Or worse-execution.
“Hold your tongue, and recall your place,” he snaps then leans back in his seat and turns to me. “There is a man who is well revered by both kingdoms. He lives on his own lands, though he is no king.”
I shiver. There is only one man he could be speaking of. One man—whose barbaric reputation proceeds even those attacking us from the Feral Swamps.
King Julius smiles. “I see you understand who I am speaking of.”
Bonnie gasps. “You cannot be serious, My King. That brute—”
A crack fills the room, and I ball up my fists as Pallgard lowers his hand. Bonnie’s cheek is bright red, her eyes hard, though she doesn’t whimper.
Ezra snarls. “Touch her again, and I will remove your fucking hand from your wrist.”
The king holds up a hand to silence his guard. “Pallgard, that was uncalled for.”
“She disrespected you, My King.”
“And should I feel she needs to be punished for speaking out of turn, do you not think I can handle it myself?”
Pallgard looks positively furious, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, eyes hard as he glares at Ezra. “Yes, My King.”
“Thank you.” The king shifts his gaze to Bonnie. “If I must remind you again, the punishment will be far greater.” He returns his attention to me. “Merrick Umbra
is not to be trifled with. He sells his protection to whomever needs it. He is brutal enough that no one shall challenge my leadership but has his own lands and no need for mine. It is a rather perfect scenario.”
“What is his price?” I ask the question, already fearing the answer. Protection such as
the king seeks will likely not come cheap. And as the stories have told it, Merrick is a brute. A man in no desperate need of any coin or lands.
His entire family has ruled the Shadow Lands without the title of king because of the fact that the kingdoms fear him. No king will cross him, no man foolish enough to try.
“What do you give a man who has no need for coin or lands?” The king replies with a grin. “I am going to offer him you.”
I barely manage to stifle my shocked gasp. My gaze meets Ezra, who—based on the harsh set of his jaw—already knew it was coming. Barclay, however, is absolutely shocked, and his look of complete displeasure brings me the utmost joy, even in a moment where I am helpless to save myself.
Then, I shift my attention to Bonnie. Eyes full of tears, she opens her mouth to respond,
but I shake my head, a silent plea for her to remain quiet. She knows as well as I do that, when the king has made up his mind, there will be no changing it.
No matter how hard we try.
“You are going to sell me? To a man who has a brutal reputation that spans an entire realm?”
“You are my daughter,” the king replies. “A princess preparing to be queen. What a prize you will make for an unwed man such as him. A man seeking an heir.”
“And what of these lands?” I demand. “You have no one to rule them once I’m gone.”
“Oh, but I will.” He stands. “Leave this room. All of you.”
Ezra is the first to move. He crosses the room and puts himself between Pallgard and Bonnie, and then the two of them leave. Pallgard moves after them, Barclay following. The heavy door closes behind them all, leaving me inside what might as well be a lion’s den.
The king begins to pace. “I took you in off the streets. Fed you. Clothed you. Treated you as a
princess. And now, I offer you a husband who will give you title and wealth.” He stops directly in front of me. “For all of that, I will be collecting a price.”
“And what price is that?” I somehow manage, despite the growing lump in my throat.
He grins. “When your new husband impregnates you, that child will be mine.”
I stiffen, unsure which bothers me more. The idea of bedding a bloodthirsty mercenary or handing over my child to the murdering king before me. Perhaps both are equally disturbing realities.
And both leave my future completely out of my control. My throat constricts as tears blur my vision. I don’t know why I’m surprised, though. My destiny has
never been mine. It has belonged to this man since he pulled me from the streets after my mother died.
“You expect me to give you my child?” I choke out.
“I demand it,” he retorts.
Shaking my head, I try like hell to process just how screwed I’ve become in a manner of seconds.
Merrick is not a secret. He’s a man who has left heads on spikes at the border of his property—a warning that no king shall enter. He kills without mercy and with
little reason, a man who revels in the bloodlust. As, rumor has it, his father and grandfather did before him.
“And you believe my new husband would allow that to happen? He has killed for far less.”
“Merrick will not need to know,” the king replies, tone low. “Because you will not tell him of your promise to me, nor will you reveal your true parentage, Kiya.
Should you do either, disastrous consequences would befall you.”
“My death?” I presume.
“Yes.”
“Then explain to me how I am supposed to hand over a child and have my new husband not notice?”
The king considers my words then stops pacing and faces me. “When you miss your first cycle, you will send me a message to let me know. I will send word that I
am ill and need you home. You will return and have the child here. Then, Merrick will be none the wiser.”
Tears burn in my eyes as hatred far more potent than anything I’ve ever felt taints my soul. “You expect me to marry a brute and give up my child? What did I ever do to deserve such hatred?”
“I don’t hate you, Kiya,” he says calmly. “But I brought you here to serve a purpose, and so far, you do nothing but live in my house, wear clothes that were meant for my child, and eat food provided to you by me. Now, it is your turn to repay all those favors.”
“Favors?” The word comes out far weaker than I would have appreciated. “You call being
treated like trash a favor? Barclay won’t keep his hands off of me. Pallgard is no better with the looks he grants me. I’m never allowed to leave.” I stalk toward him, fury in my veins. “And the one person who made it all bearable, the one person I loved—you stole from me.” I choke on the words, tears slipping down my cheeks.
The king glares at me.
“You had him executed. Right in front of me.”
“It was never up to you to decide who got to fuck you,” he snaps. “Be glad I’m sending you off because, if the brute doesn’t accept my offer, I might just allow Barclay to make good use of you.” He shoves past me.
I grab his arm.
His free hand cracks across my cheek with enough force to send me stumbling backward. “Please don’t do this.”
“It’s already done,” he growls. “Pack lightly, Princess. Nothing you take with you was ever yours.”
