Fertility is a gift

They hauled me inside a room, my limp body heavy with exhaustion. The guards laid me on the bed, and a short woman who looked to be in her mid-forties poured a potion down my throat.

Nausea hit instantly, and I gripped my stomach as whatever they'd forced down my throat coiled and rolled inside me. I quivered, nearly falling from the bed.

When I turned, I made out two large men standing at the far side of the wall. Their eyes were cold as they looked down at me.

I tore my gaze away from them, staring at the ceiling as I tried to make sense of everything that had happened to me that day.

I should have been crying, but the tears wouldn't come.

Resignation and hopelessness had dug deep into me since the moment I watched my sister die and Kieran dragged away.

After watching most of the people I loved die, I knew my turn to suffer waited around the corner.

My father had died by execution, tortured for information they wanted from him.

My mother had tried to protect him, and they killed her too, before dragging their bodies away.

Then Sara died. Tears spilled down my face as I thought back to her final moments.

What about Kieran? Could he also be dead? Or in a worse condition, in prison, awaiting execution. I was still alive only because the king found me useful as his son's breed. But wasn't death better than being raped and forced into pregnancy?

I would rather die than carry the seed of a Lycan.

The deaths of my family replayed in my mind, over and over, until I thought the repetition would eventually dull the pain.

But it didn't. If anything, it only made things worse. Each memory of their deaths brought a sharp pain to my chest — a deep wound that would never heal, no matter how long it took.

To be bred by the Lycan Prince was a fate I'd never imagined for myself. I thought of escaping, but I couldn't afford the risk. The important thing now was to die quickly.

Lying on the bed, I watched the time crawl by.

On the third day, the woman returned with two other girls dressed in white, bonnets covering their hair and part of their faces.

Without a word, they pulled me from the bed and into what looked like a bathtub. They scrubbed and waxed my skin until it burned red, then rinsed me with warm water, dried me off, and dressed me.

A tall young woman in her early twenties sat at a small table when I stepped into a different room. She had long black hair, straight and heavy, pulled over one shoulder so it fell like ink against her porcelain skin that was pale enough that the faint blue traceries of veins showed at her throat and the backs of her hands, as though she'd never once stood under the sun.

She had a straight nose, a mouth set in a thin line, and cheekbones that were sharp.

"You have been chosen to help carry the future heirs of Blackthorne. You have been granted a privilege other young women would die for," the woman said.

Who would die for a life like this?

"The King has commanded that you be trained to fulfil your duties without failing."

"Isn't it wonderful?" the woman asked, cocking her head slightly with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Fertility is a gift from the goddess, blessing the wombs of werewolf women. It is the reason a lot of you give birth to more than one, unlike Lycans."

Slowly reaching for a book, she spoke.

"You must heed these instructions if you want to live here in peace."

I gulped softly. "What instructions?"

The woman flipped the book open, and began to read from it. "You will be an obedient little mouse. You will not offend those higher than you. You will not resist when being bred. After being bred, you will not move for at least five minutes. You will do everything to get pregnant quickly and produce healthy children. And the last, most important one — you will not have sex with any man apart from the Lycan Prince. Doing so will result in your death."

I gritted my teeth, staring at her in silence.

"Am I understood?" she asked.

"Yes."

She nodded, lowering her eyes to the book. After a moment, she looked up at me.

"Strip."

"What?" I looked at her, hoping she was joking.

"What instructions did I just give you about being obedient?" The woman cocked her head. When I didn't move, her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to strip willingly, or do you want me using my methods on you?"

Not wanting to provoke her further, I took my clothes off slowly.

I pulled down my undergarments, laying them at my feet as I stood before her, naked. Her dark eyes raked over me from head to toe, checking every part of my body before she turned to the young woman standing behind her in white.

The young woman in white stepped forward with clothing in her hands.

"Dress in these."

A pure white dress pale as the snow. No undergarments, nothing to wear beneath it.

As I dressed in the gown, I felt impossibly thin inside it, and the lack of anything underneath left me feeling more naked than before.

Next came the white bonnet. As I pulled it over my head, a small frown tugged at my lips when I realized it blocked nearly my entire vision.

I could hardly see straight unless I raised my head high to meet someone's gaze.

"You are required to wear these every day," she said, and closed the book with a smile. "This is the end of your training. I cannot wait until you produce healthy children for me and Lucian."

Wait. She is the Lycan Prince betrothal?

I looked at her warily.

"My name is Sylvia, but you will not call me that unless you want to lose your tongue," she said. "You'll address me as Blackthorne Princess instead. Am I understood?"

I gave her a small nod.

"Alright then." Sylvia turned to the woman at her side. "Manon, take her to Prince Lucian."

Manon bowed slightly before walking toward the door. I followed immediately, my heart hammering as she led me to a room at the far end of the corridor. Knocking softly, Manon stepped back, and only when a male voice answered from inside did she open the door and motion for me to step in.

Slowly lifting my head, my eyes locked onto deep red ones.