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“Everyone keeps calling me ‘mizrah.’ But I am not that title yet. One of the councilman said as much.”
Dalya stared at me with her lovely golden eyes. “He has chosen you. It is the king’s right, guided by the gods, to choose his mizrah.”
“Guided by the gods.” I huffed a laugh, taking a seat on the bench in front of the iron statue. “This has nothing to do with destiny. This was the king’s chosen ending to the war, to show Issos how powerful he is.”
Dalya took her seat next to me, angling toward me, her hands demurely clasped in her lap. “Simply because you were taken as a war prize to be his mizrah does not negate that it could also be fated by the gods.”
I blinked at her, but her expression gave nothing away. “Do you believe that?”
“I believe…it is possible. But not certain.”
“Does Goll believe that?”
When she flinched, I realized I’d used his first name, not his proper title orSireormy liegeormy king. I simply preferred to think of him as Goll, the man who’d saved me. The young prince who showed me compassion and kindness once.
“King Goll does believe that you are destined to be his mizrah.” Her gaze swept up to my wings.
I fidgeted with my cloak’s tasseled drawstrings which dangled in my lap.
“What will happen during this Rite of Servium?Serviummeans selection, correct?”
She turned her attention back to the statue. “Yes. It also meansto serve. It is the king’s right to choose his mizrah during the selection.”
“I am aware of that.” The sardonic words slipped through my lips.
She looked back at me. “It is a privilege to be chosen as our king’s mizrah.”
“It was not a privilege to be taken from my home, to be forced to be his—” I could not finish the sentence.
“To be forced to behis,” she stated without an addendum. “He will guard and protect you above all others. He will keep you safe above his own life. He will serve you as you servehimby begetting his heir.”
My brow pinched and I stared at Dalya in confusion. “Is this how all kings treated their mizrahs? I read that King Goll’s father murdered his mizrah, Goll’s own mother. Xakiel did the opposite of protecting her.”
She actually smiled. “King Goll is not his father. He takes his oaths seriously.”
A breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves, drawing my attention back to the grove. The weather was turning toward winter.
“I was told by one of my scholars in Issos that wraith fae do not believe in marriage the way we moon fae do. Is this ceremony similar to a moon binding? A union between two fae?”
“Many wraith fae complete the Rite of Servium, but they take mates, not a mizrah as the king does.”
“But a mate implies there is only the two of them. I will simply be his chief concubine. He will take others once his child is born,” I added bitterly.
She did not reply, did not say that I was wrong. I was not a fool to think that even the noblemen of Issos did not take lovers behind their wives’ backs. Wraith fae simply did it out in the open.
“Some wraith males choose only one mate,” she added quietly.
I held her golden gaze. “But not a king.”
Her smile was somewhat sad when she added, “He will always keep you safe.”
But he would not be faithful to me once I was with child. Why I was so obsessed with this thought, I had no idea. I should be overjoyed I’d be forced to be his bedmate for only a short time. Yet a thickness built in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
I inhaled deeply. “Tell me what will happen at this ceremony.”
“Before the ceremony, my priestesses and I will take you below the palace.”
I flinched and jerked my head toward her.
