mother was, only to learn she was killed in front of me, and then learned I have an aunt and a brother. All the while, I created my own family, believing I didn’t need one of blood.
The king pushes up from the desk and walks around to the wall of books behind it, reaching for a large tome. With a frown, I watch him, wondering why he’s getting books down when his son is making pained noises on the floor, but as he moves to the side, I realise why. What I thought was a book was actually fake, hiding a compartment with a bottle of what looks like whiskey. Pulling out two glasses, he pours the strong-smelling liquid into them and pushes one towards me. I shake my head and he just laughs, shrugging before sipping from his glass and smacking his lips.
“I was married before I met your mother, but she was barren,” he explains, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Rhydian’s and Michael’s mothers were from the whore house, but obviously, it was made to look like she carried both of them. It wouldn’t do for the queen not to function like a woman should.”
Rage fills me at the casual way he dismisses this. Those poor women. Not only did he flaunt the fact that the past queen was unable to bear a child by sleeping with other women and getting them pregnant, but he then ripped those babies from them.
Either ignorant of my anger or uncaring, the king continues, staring into his glass. “I met your mother years before either of you were born. She liked to rebel and explore, and I used to leave the castle to…well, that doesn’t matter.” A grin curves his lips, and I shudder at the thought of all the disgusting things he might have been up to. His eyes suddenly flick up from his glass to me. “We had an affair.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I knew it must have happened at some point, I knew about the birds and the bees, however, to hear that your mother did that to your father, especially with someone like the king…
“I knew she loved that half-elf, but she loved me too. She couldn’t admit it, but she couldn’t stay away,” the king says, madness in his eyes. “When she fell pregnant with Jacob, we made it look like my previous wife died in childbirth. I took Jacob, but your mother ran away. She was scared, and she returned to him.” He slams his glass down onto the desk, and it shatters, sending shards and whisky across the room. His hand is bleeding, but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes blazing with disgust. “I don’t take kindly to people taking what’s mine,” he grinds out, talking about my mother as if she’s a possession rather than a person with wants and free will.
All of a sudden, as if a switch has been flipped, he straightens, his eyes becoming cool and calculating as he glances over at his son. Seeing the mess on his desk, he tuts and opens a drawer, pulls out a cloth, and starts cleaning the surface, brushing the glass into the open drawer. “Then I heard she was pregnant with you.” He looks at me, his tone conversational as if he isn’t discussing the events that led up to our separation. “She and that half-elf mate of hers went on the run with you, never staying in one place for long.” Pausing, the king puts the cloth away, and I get a feeling of trepidation as I sense what’s coming next. Closing the drawer, the king smiles. “But she couldn’t run forever.”
His cruel eyes lock onto mine, and I see true evil staring back at me. “Catching her was the best day of my life. Killing her mate and making her watch as I had your memories wiped and made you a slave…” I’m vaguely aware of Jacob making distressed noises, but I don’t know if that’s due to his injuries or because of what’s being said. However, I’m so focused on the king and the anger threatening to boil over that all of my concentration goes to not pulling the dagger from my thigh sheath and slamming it into the king’s chest. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes as I try to calm my racing thoughts.
My mother left her baby with the king and escaped. How could she have left Jacob