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The path takes us under an archway covered in orange, ivy-like vines and leads to a grassy clearing filled with a variety of fruit-bearing trees. The elder guides me toward a stone bench and motions for me to sit. Then, he takes a seat beside me.
Here we go.
I meet his gaze, forcing a smile that I hope looks sincere. “So, Elder Denari,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, “I’m guessing this isn’t just a social call to admire the flowers.”
Denari doesn’t respond right away. His gaze is steady, calculating. When he finally speaks, his words land like a punch to the gut. “Do you know that human females are considered universal breeders?”
“Of course I know that.” My words are sharp, clipped. I don’t like where this conversation is going.
“You must give my son an heir, Sloane.”
“Must? I don’t fucking think so.” My anger erupts hot and fierce, and I jump to my feet, fists clenched. “You’re not the first arrogant, alien male who wants to use me as a breeding slave. So far, I’ve managed to avoid getting used that way, and I don’t plan on that changing anytime soon.”
I put some distance between us as the words pour out of me in a furious torrent. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? The things I’ve had to do to survive? I’ve been beaten, starved, forced to entertain hideous creatures on demand. I’ve scrubbed floors with my bare hands until they bled, learned languages and customs by having them literally uploaded into my brain, and I’ve been traded like a piece of property more times than I can count on one hand.”
I’m shaking now, years of pent-up rage and fear spilling out. “But through all of that, I’ve managed to avoid being used…sexually.”
Denari remains calm, his expression unreadable. “Are you an innocent, then?”
“Hardly,” I reply with a humorless laugh. “But I only fuck who I want, when I want. Andthat’snot going to change. Not for you, not for your son, not for anyone.”
The elder nods, although I don’t think he’s actually agreeing with me. “What if I offered you a trade? Would that make you want to…fuck…my son and carry his child?”
My eyes narrow, suspicion warring with curiosity. “Depends on what you’re offering.”
His next words stop me cold.
“Your freedom.”
Freedom.The one thing I’ve longed for, bled for,killedfor. All to no avail.
“An orc heir for my freedom,” I repeat slowly, hardly daring to believe it. “If the king’s rule is absolute, how can you make deals on his behalf?”
Denari shrugs, unconcerned with getting Dexari on board with his offer. “I have ways of influencing my son, of making him see reason.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” I ask.
Tension etches Denari’s face. “Because the future of the kingdom depends on it.”
I sink back onto the bench, my thoughts a conflicting, chaotic whirlwind—desperation for freedom, revulsion at the price, fear of being betrayed, hope for a slavery-free future.
“Well?” Denari says, and I swallow hard before responding.
Chapter 10
Dexari
I approachthe guard outside Sloane's suite, a trail of servants following, their trays laden with an intimate feast fit for a king—and his future queen. My steps are measured and confident, although I am as nervous as an untried whelp facing his first battle.
My plan is not causing this uncharacteristic anxiety. The scheme to allow Sloane a taste of “freedom” should unfold as expected. No, what has me on edge is a far more primal concern. The throbbing in my groin that is growing more intense.
My pulsing spikes, meant to ensure the continuation of my bloodline, have chosen Sloane and are anxious to claim her. The spikes demand action, to spill their seed into her waiting womb. Yet now is not the time.
Even as I stand here, poised to enter Sloane’s suite, my plan is already in motion. Gorlag, ever loyal despite his reservations, is setting the stage for her escape.
A handful of my most trusted guards are being brought into the fold, each carefully selected for their discretion and loyalty. Yetthere is one crucial detail of my plan I have kept from Gorlag, a detail I know he will not like. Instead of sending guards to follow Sloane, I will follow her myself.
Gorlag will argue, of course, and tell me it is too dangerous—that a king has no business traipsing through the wilderness after a runaway prisoner. And he may be right. Yet the very thought of her in the forest, vulnerable and unprotected, sends a chill down my spine. I cannot allow even my most trusted guards to keep her safe.
