The First Queen: A Shifter Romance

by K. M. Carnoky

  “Everyone out,” he ordered coldly.

  “No,” I protested. I never thought I would be capable of such disrespect towards the king. He could have me hanged for denying him. But I couldn’t even fathom the idea of being alone with this beast. Half man, half wolf.

  “Out!” he shouted, turning away from me to look at his guards.

  The men in uniform immediately spread out and began guiding the women out of the room.

  “Please, don't go,” I whispered to no one in particular. “Please don’t leave me with him!”

  But no one would listen to a slave. They all left, not even sparing me a second glance while I trembled in front of the king.

  Chapter Five

  After about a minute, though it felt like no time at all, everyone had cleared out of the ballroom aside from me, the king, and a handful of guards.

  I couldn't meet the king's sharp brown eyes as we stood in silence. I knew he was staring intently at me. I could feel the heaviness of his gaze on my skin, and it made my chest rise and fall with labored breaths. His hand was still holding on to my arm tightly, and I doubted that I would be released anytime soon. Maybe werewolves could read minds, and he knew how I wished I could just fade into a mist and vanish out of this room, back to my farm and my dreadful owner.

  In fact, I would’ve given just about anything to go back to the comfort of the things I knew.

  I didn't understand what was happening or why I had been chosen. It surely couldn't have been because he deemed me to be queen material. I was small and fragile, too uneducated and far too mouthy. I would be hated by the people before they even knew my face. Perhaps he needed a lady's maid. Or maybe I would be one of those girls who never made it home and no one knew why and everyone just assumed the worst. My heart clenched almost painfully in my chest at the thought, and I had to blink away the sudden tears. This could not be happening to me. This must’ve been a dream.

  “Who are you?” King Archer demanded.

  I wanted to respond to him. I wanted to make this as easy and as quick as I could so I could go back to my master, but the words were all stuck in my throat, and my mouth refused to open a centimeter. All I could think about was the way his hand felt on my skin and what his actions would mean for my future. I just stood completely still, staring down at my dirty, modest dress as fear took over my body. In the back of my mind, I could almost hear my master mocking me, asking where my brave mouth had gone.

  “Who are you?” he asked again, his voice rising with anger and authority. He was clearly not used to anyone defying him.

  I still remained silent despite the fact that I did want to answer him. I would've even settled for making any noise at all, even if it had just been a scared whimper at best. But I didn't. I just started trembling all over again.

  The king released my arm finally and took a step back. For the briefest instant, I had thought he had given up and he was going to find some other girl to torment, but it seemed he was just trying to get a better look at me. I wanted to hide myself from his view, from his intense gaze. Everything about him was dark: his hair, his eyes, his boots, and all of his clothing. But the thing that was the darkest was the unwanted feeling that floated around me when his eyes scanned me over. The way he looked at me had my heart stuttering like I was a pathetic damsel, and I loathed it.

  He took his time looking at my knotted hair, my flimsy shoes that were falling apart, and my dingy dress. I felt awful in his presence. He was tall and appeared to have strong arms, broad shoulders, and good legs. The finest clothes had been tailored to perfection to fit his body. It was all the result of the best upbringing.

  I was thin as I was only given enough food to survive. My hips jutted out severely enough to be seen under the dress, and unlike the women who had surrounded me previously, I had no breasts to flaunt which left my figure looking boyish at best. If I was tossed out of the castle now, people would simply think I was a spinster who couldn't work and had been begging the king for money.

  With a heavy sigh, the king shook his head. “Well, I suppose it doesn't truly matter who you are. I just have to bed you,” he murmured. His voice was so soft, I almost didn't hear it.

  Whether it was his intention or not, his words caused me to finally take action.

  “No,” I blurted out.

  The king watched me for a second, his eyes locked on my face that I knew was bright red with fear and embarrassment.

  “No?” he repeated. “Who are you to tell me, the king, no?”

  I took a slow step back, shaking my head as I tried to assemble a sentence again. “M-my owner . . .” I stammered out. “He won't let you have me. He needs me,” I protested meekly. I was impressed that I could even form real words that made sense. The only thing that was running through my head at the time was that the king had said something about bedding me.

  “Your owner?” The king's dark brows furrowed for a moment, then he shrugged, a gesture that was almost too youthful for him. “Very well. Guards, please find this woman's owner and have him brought to me immediately.”

  There was the sound of footsteps, then a door being opened and closed, but I was unable to turn around and watch the guards leave for myself. I could only stare at the king, scared he might suddenly pounce on me or something of the sort. Though he seemed human enough, I was all too aware that a beast was lurking beneath.

  “So you're a slave then,” the king stated.

  I didn't answer him. He seemed to have expected this as he didn't say anything else until we both heard the door reopen and more than one set of footsteps entered. Now, I wasn't sure who to be afraid of: my master who would be furious with the position I had put myself in or the king who was part human and part animal.

  “Are you this slave's owner?” the king asked, his voice sounding almost kind.

  “Yes, your highness, I am. Has she done something to displease you?” my owner answered. Even with his fear, I could hear the warning: if I had done anything to upset the king, I would be punished severely, maybe even right here in the room in front of all these strangers if the king permitted it.

  “No, not yet. I would like to purchase her from you,” the king declared.

  My heart plummeted in my chest, and I had to fight the urge to grab my owner's hands and beg him on my knees to keep me away from this man. I would plead with the man I had deemed to be a fat pig to keep me for the rest of my life if it meant I never had to see the king again. But causing such a scene would surely be worthy of a brutal punishment. And I couldn't even begin to imagine what the king would do if he was shown such disrespect.

  “This slave? Why?” My owner sounded as bewildered as I felt but significantly less afraid.

  “Never you mind,” the king snapped. “I will purchase her for twice her worth, and if you refuse to take that offer, then I will have you hanged.”

  My master paled at his words but nodded in agreement. He was not strong enough or foolish enough to refuse. I wanted to weep openly as they discussed the price for me. I had no one to fight for me and my safety. I was going to be sold to a king that was more feared than loved, and no one knew the purpose I would serve. I was certain I was never going to be seen again. And the whole exchange that would forever change my life—or maybe end it—was over in less than three minutes. A few gold coins exchanged hands, and my old master left me, this time for good.

  The king seemed satisfied enough with the whole trade, but I was now unable to fight off my tears. They began streaming down my cheeks, so I bowed my head to hide them, hoping I wouldn't be punished for showing emotion.

  Evidently, my concealing tactic worked because the king simply attempted to carry on a normal conversation.

  “What is your name?”

  “I don't have one,” I replied, trying to hide the sound of my sniffling.

  “I suppose most slaves don't have names, but what did your parents call you?”

  I debated staying silent. I didn't have a name. I couldn't rem
ember my given name, and my owner had never bothered to give me a new one after my mother had abandoned me. But I didn't want to have to explain to the king that not only did I grow up as a farm slave, I had also been dumped by my mother when I was hardly able to fend for myself. The beast didn’t need to know that I had been unwanted throughout the entirety of my life.

  “Willow,” I lied.

  “Willow, please follow me. We have some terms I would like to discuss with you in my study.”

  Chapter Six

  The king's study was just as gorgeous and grand as the rest of the palace. The walls all had intricate golden designs swirling up and down on it while a large chandelier hung boldly above a desk that looked finer than anything I could ever hope to own. I had to repress a shudder at the thought that the desk was worth more than the gold that my owner had been given for my permanent absence on the farm. If one added the value of the books that lined many shelves, the massive rug on the floor, and the beautifully created chairs, there would be enough just in this room to buy hundreds of slaves. It was all just another stark reminder of the power this man carried with him.

  “Sit, please,” the king said. I think he was trying to be polite, but his voice came out strong and demanding anyway. I briefly wondered if he could actually ever be kind, but I didn't dare disobey, so I sat down as gently and promptly in a chair as I could. “Tell me, Willow, how much do you know about werewolves?” he asked.

  He was seated just across from me, behind the stunning desk, and I knew his eyes were on me, but I was unable to even consider looking at him; especially now that I was alone with him, his property, and he had just asked me such an intense question. I suppose I didn't truly know that he was a werewolf, but I had heard heavy rumors about it. Although, maybe he was only a quarter beast and the rest man as his father was just a human. Still, I couldn't lie, because if he challenged my knowledge, I would have nearly nothing, and the information that I did have was quite heavy handed against werewolves. The last thing I wanted was to offend him.

  “Very little, almost nothing,” I confessed softly.

  My eyes were still glued to my hands. I was suddenly very aware that I was quite filthy. My nails had dirt caked underneath them, and the tips of my fingers were stained brown from always being in the garden. The brief rinse in the creek had not been enough to gain admission to the palace under any other circumstances, and now I was certainly not fit to be sitting in a king's study.

  “Do you know what mates are?” he pressed. His voice was gruff, and it made me shiver slightly.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Alright, we’ll disregard that tidbit for the time being,” he continued casually. He didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the fact that I was completely and utterly terrified of him and refused to even look at him. He carried on with his conversation like I was just another visitor. “All you need to know right now is that I have selected you to bear my heir and th—”

  “What?” I squeaked out, finally looking at him in shock. I was so surprised by his words, I didn't even notice that I had been completely disrespectful. Never in my life had I considered that I would be the woman who would carry anyone's child, much less the king's. And he talked about it so carelessly; like women had children for him every day. Hell, maybe they did.

  “You will have my baby. My previous wife left me, and we did not conceive a son or any child for that matter. Now, as king, it is my duty to have a son to succeed me after I am gone. My proposition is as such: I will bed you every night until you become pregnant. Then, when you are confirmed pregnant, you will move to a manor house I have purchased out in the country. There, you will raise my son in peace until he is of age and must learn the inner workings of being a good king. So, you will give me a child, and I will allow you to live in luxury for the rest of your life,” he announced.

  The king was leaning back in his chair, looking both casual and quite proud of himself. His dark brown eyes were locked on me, waiting for a response. As much as I wanted to tumble into the feeling that his eyes offered, my mind was refusing to let that happen. And I didn't think I gave him the kind of response he expected or desired.

  “And if I deny?” I countered.

  The king smirked, revealing a straight set of teeth. “Willow, you seem to forget that you are a slave rather often. And I just exchanged your life for a small sack of gold. However, if you feel that you must deny my generous proposition then I will remind you that I now own you, and if I so choose to tie you to a bed and breed you like an animal until you have my son then throw you out on the street like a forgotten spinster, then I shall do so,” he threatened. “Please, I’m trying to do what’s best for both of us and make you as comfortable as possible through this process.”

  His words were true. All of them. And as much as he intimidated me, the thought of living a loveless, unwanted life was even more terrifying. I had nothing left to lose but so much to gain.

  “Can I make a request then?” I asked. Part of me was delighted that I had such strength in me, but another part of me just wished it would go away. There is a healthy chance I would be safer if I learned to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t want to give him an opportunity to show me how true all those rumors about his cruelty and temper were.

  “I am not promising you anything in advance, but I will listen,” he agreed.

  “If I am to have your child, I want to be married.”

  The king rolled his eyes, a gesture that struck me as very rude and quite the opposite of royal.

  “That is such a human thing to ask for,” he scoffed.

  “Marriage is a very human thing to desire. However, I don't wish to be a mistress. I will raise your child if I am your wife, and I wish to be respected as such. You may be my owner now, and I may be your slave, but I want my children to be treated with reverence.” Thinking quickly, I added, “And, I wish to have my horse from my previous farm be brought here.”

  “Your horse?”

  “Yes, he is old, and he is my very loyal companion. I want to ensure that he is properly cared for in his old age,” I bargained. I decided that the old beast would serve as good company during lonely days, and he was the only creature from the farm that I had truly cared about.

  “You're very brave considering you were a farm slave less than an hour ago,” the king pointed out. His eyes studied me under raised eyebrows, and I couldn't tell if he thought my resistance was a sign that I was completely and utterly simple-minded or if he thought I was quite intelligent for establishing my boundaries.

  “My master always complained that I had a smart mouth,” I replied honestly.

  At that, King Archer’s lips curled up in a smile, an honest one that made my heart flutter. Then he scribbled something down on a piece of paper. Aside from the scratching of the pen on the parchment, it was silent in the study for a moment. Then the king put down his utensil and captured my eyes with his, making me catch my breath from across the desk.

  “Anything else?” It sounded more like a challenge than an honest question.

  Regardless, I replied. “I want to have dinner with you every evening. The child I will carry will be half of both of us, and I think it is only reasonable and responsible that I am well acquainted with the other half.”

  “Very well.” The king scribbled for a couple of seconds again. The small smile hadn’t left. At the very least, he seemed amused with me. “Is that everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God. I will send a guard to escort you to your room. There, you will find your maids. Feel free to ask them any questions or for anything you feel you should need. If you want to leave your room, ask them to find you a guard as I don't want you walking around the grounds by yourself just yet. And as for our agreement, I will allow you to settle in for two nights before it is enforced,” he announced, standing up. “I will see you in the morning, Willow,” he called back as he walked away.

  Then the door clicked shut behind him, and he was gon
e.

  Chapter Seven

  I was ushered around the castle by two large burly guards who had intimidated me at first. However, I was now grateful for their help. This palace was enormous, far beyond anything I could imagine, and I felt like every time I looked around, I was being led down a new hallway, through a different door, and into another corridor. I would’ve believed they were taking me in circles if I hadn’t been keen enough to notice the different décor in each room. It was dizzying at the best of times and completely overwhelming at the worst. Thankfully, we did reach my room eventually, and I nodded my head in thanks when the two guards announced my arrival. I didn't know who they were announcing me to until I saw three young women all curtseying to me, their heads bowed in respect and their skirts lifted on the tips of their fingers.

  I stared at them in shock, not reacting at all when the guards shut my door behind me. Mere hours ago, I had been nothing but a slave, and now I had women curtsying to me in the most stunning room I had seen yet. This could not be real life. I must've been dreaming.

  “Who are you?” I blurted out, my limited manners vanishing.

  “We are your maids, my lady,” a tall woman with black hair explained. She tried to hide it under a serious expression, but I could tell that my question had startled her. When I looked at the other two, I saw a similarly masked emotion as well. Though it was clear they had been expecting someone, I knew I didn’t fit their vision.

  They had most likely been anticipating a plume of skirts, glittering gems, and perfect mannerisms. All they received was a confused girl covered in rags.

  “Oh, yes,” I breathed, trying to recover. “Of course.”

  “Would you like us to fetch a bath for you?” The tall woman continued.

  With those words, I became aware that I looked worse than the maids who were here to serve me. I had dirt caked under my nails, my hair hadn't seen a brush in many days, and my skin was oily and dusty. My dress now had a muddy ring on the bottom skirt, several seams were beginning to fray, and the style of the gown was probably considered fashionable when I was still an infant. I wasn't certain of my social standing at this point, but I was quite sure that I was above maids, so looking so awful made me feel terrible and vile. I knew that I looked exactly like what I was: a slave.