Chapter 4 - Seraphina

 “Is there anything else I can offer Your Majesty?” my servant asks, his lips returning to kiss my thigh, sending a shiver through me.

My body is still pulsing with the aftershocks of my orgasm, a tremor lingering in my limbs and an insistent throbbing in my swollen clitoris. I gaze down at the man lying between my legs. His eagerness to please borders on the pathetic.

“Silence,” I respond coolly, pulling him up by the arm.

I notice his member is already hard and ready to enter me. I lay him down on the bed and straddle him, guiding him inside with ease, a pleasure sparking through my entire body. He begins to pant and looks ready to moan, disrupting my focused enjoyment.

“Silence,” I order, covering his mouth with my hand.

My entire body pulses with lust and desire. I control the rhythm, moving quickly, back and forth. Sweat beads on my skin and his. His hands grip my waist tightly, helping me keep my balance.

It didn’t take long to use my servant for my pleasure. I know Caelum is in a meeting with the kingdom’s advisors, something that takes time. Plenty of time for me to enjoy two orgasms and still send the servant away without any rush.

Being caught by Caelum would be among the least of my worries here in the castle. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does the same when he travels and pointedly leaves me behind.

I dress and smooth my hair, glancing at the clock on my vanity, noticing it’s almost time for my most important commitment of the day. I look at myself in the mirror, placing a hand on my flat, small belly. I need to produce a child!

In the first years, our marriage was incredible. Caelum was attentive and made a genuine effort to make me feel at home. We traveled, and our honeymoon phase lasted quite a while. The sex wasn’t bad either; I pleased him, and he pleased me. Over time, we learned each other’s tastes.

But with each passing month that my cycle returned, our hope for an heir dwindled. His family’s pressure, along with the royal council’s demands for an heir each month, chipped away at our relationship. And the Wolfspawn Renegades’ attacks, calling for a king of pure Lycan blood, began to erect a wall between Caelum and me.

Even magic became restricted, a development that breaks my heart. Caelum is increasingly rejecting his Enchantress side, forsaking magic, and in doing so, depriving me of so many things within the castle and throughout the kingdom.

Not only Veridiana but also my own homeland, Syltirion. My heart aches to return home, to bring life and salvation. The land is dying, and the kingdom won’t survive much longer.

I cast a camouflage spell, ensuring no one will recognize me as I leave the castle. I glance back at myself in the mirror; my elegant, sophisticated attire is now that of a servant’s, simple and with tears along the front of the apron. My glamorous appearance transforms into something ordinary, only my golden eyes remaining unchanged.

The route out of the castle is smooth; I cast small spells to distract the guards and any staff who might question who I am. The path to Grimroot Forest, the forbidden woods where all enchanters were banished under Caelum’s new laws, is filled with magic and a familiar comfort for me.  

I feel far more at home in Grimroot Forest than in the palace, where I am surrounded only by lycans and humans. I head toward the shop of an ancient enchantress, a woman with powers much greater than my own.

The shop is quaint and unassuming, filled with trinkets scattered everywhere. The space is small and intimate, with the scent of burnt herbs and magic filling the air with mastery, making me breathe deeply as if it were a summer sea breeze.

“Your Majesty, what an honor to have you here once again,” the enchantress declares, offering a simple bow.

“I didn’t think I would need to return here, but I require your talents, your magic,” I say, a heaviness in my voice, feeling the anguish welling up within my chest.

The enchantress gestures to a round table with two wooden chairs. I follow her and sit across from her. I can hear my heartbeat resonating through my entire body, mingling with my rising anxiety.

“What troubles you, Your Majesty? Does the palace gold no longer please your eyes, or is it the longing for your homeland?” she asks, her voice hoarse and drawn out.

“Why can I not bear my husband’s children? I’ve lain with him each month, and before, it was every day,” I confess, my voice thick with anguish, desperation pushing through my words. “Is the problem within me or him? Without a child, I’ll never be able to perform the ritual to save my kingdom, Syltirion.”

“Do not distress yourself any longer, Your Majesty. I will see what destiny is hiding from you—what blessing or curse is shadowing you and your mate,” she responds and then extends her hands across the table. I take them gently, aware of the type of magic she’ll perform, fearing the revelation to come.

The elder enchantress chants the forbidden spell; the shop’s ambiance turns dark, filled with entities from the other realm, dangerous and treacherous beings if the enchantress lacks the skill to control them. The elder’s eyes, once a violet hue, transform into a deep darkness with the gateway to the forbidden realm, some objects around us lift, and a ghostly breeze stirs my hair. The entity she summoned possesses her, her hands turning icy and gripping my wrists with newfound strength.

“The king’s seed has already been planted and nurtured. It grows strong beyond the palace walls, protected and forgotten by noble fate. A new queen will arise, more powerful and more dangerous. The kingdom of Syltirion shall fall into shadow and ruin. What you plan and desire will only succeed when the king’s first seed is uprooted. Seek out the mother, a woman bearing a crescent moon at her neck, and your desire may be fulfilled!” the entity declares, its voice deep and terrifying, speaking through the enchantress’s body.

My heart seizes at the news that Caelum already has an heir. I suspected he might betray me as I do him, but I thought he’d have the decency to take precautions with his harlots, just as I do with my lovers.

“Where can I find her? The mother of this child?” I ask hurriedly.

“She will come to you, the woman with the crescent moon at her neck,” the entity responds. The enchantress regains control, and the entire atmosphere returns to normal.

The elder coughs, as if she’s choked on something, quickly releasing my hands, causing me to strike the table by accident. I notice the red mark on my pale skin; it will leave a bruise, and Caelum might notice it.

“Your Majesty, be careful. Remember, sometimes these entities are simply treacherous; they only want to see chaos,” the enchantress advises.

I take a deep breath, adopting the cold demeanor I need when dealing with those not of noble birth, even though I feel lost and even hurt by the discovery.

“I don’t care what these entities want. I need to save my kingdom, Syltirion. If it means killing a child to do so, then so be it!” I declare, my voice steady, refusing to let the terror of the actual deed show through.

Before the enchantress could say anything to persuade me otherwise, I rise abruptly and, with swift and heavy steps, leave her shop, leaving payment for the consultation on the counter.

Days pass, and the revelation continues to eat away at me. Meals with Caelum have turned cold and silent; looking at my husband, knowing he’s already a father, makes me nauseous. Does he know this? Could he be hiding his harlot and his bastard child somewhere in the capital?

Our wedding anniversary arrives, and the celebration is lavish and extravagant, perfectly designed to try to fill the emptiness in my chest. I distract myself with the guests, some nobles from my kingdom, Syltirion, attend, including my parents, whom I haven’t seen in so long.

As the banquet begins and the servers make their rounds through the tables, a young woman, about twenty-five, approaches us with a tray of drinks. She lists the options, and I decline, though Caelum accepts. As she leans down to set the glass on the table, I notice her neck—the damned crescent moon birthmark.

My blood freezes at the audacity of fate, bringing my husband’s harlot to me on my wedding anniversary.