The First Queen: A Shifter Romance

by K. M. Carnoky

  I told myself over and over again that I had to behave like a queen. The king had endorsed this for whatever reason, so it was my job to stay perfectly still and be respectful to the doctors. But it wasn't always easy. Their hands were pushing down on my stomach and my pelvis like they were searching for something, and at one point, the stricter doctor pushed up my night gown, exposing parts of my body that only my husband had seen. But when I looked at him for help, he merely met my eyes and said nothing. I would not allow myself to believe that there was a touch of sadness or regret in his features. I could not continue tricking myself. I bit my tongue hard and allowed the men to examine me without any boundaries, without saving any of my dignity.

  The prodding must have lasted about twenty minutes before the doctors frowned at each other and turned to the king.

  “We are sorry, your majesty. It doesn't seem that the queen is with child yet,” the kinder one whispered.

  And seeing my husband's stony face shift into an expression of anger, I felt sick.

  His mother had been right.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Spring was arriving, and though the world outside was getting brighter, the outlook on my marriage was darkening dramatically each day. The king no longer had dinners with me, so I started eating in my room in the hopes that I would find company elsewhere. The maids deemed it improper to eat with me, so in the end, I ate very little due to the loneliness and embarrassment. The lack of company made it hard to swallow, no matter how good the food was. The king never slept with me anymore either, which caused an intense amount of anxiety. How was I to make him happy through pregnancy if he was not bedding me at all?

  Without dinners and or late nights together, we had not seen each other in weeks. And, on top of all of this, heavy restrictions had been placed on my events as well. So heavy, in fact, that it simply became easier to stop hosting events at all. I didn't want to explain to my guests why half of their family could not attend or why we were only serving particular food because I had no idea why this was happening either. It felt like Archer had started slapping restrictions onto the most ridiculous things but never felt inclined to explain any of it.

  The former queen had been quick to rush me out the last time I had spoken to her, and every time I saw her now, she clearly avoided eye contact with me. During the rare times she did bother to look at me, she appeared disgruntled at best. I couldn't even fathom what I had done to upset her so much as I had been working so hard to be the perfect wife and queen. The former king was kinder and would occasionally shoot me a small smile when he could. It wasn't enough to help me regain my bravery enough so I could talk to them, though I deeply wished I could just ask them what was wrong.

  My maids had also gotten quieter, hardly gossiping at all now. James had been taken off his post from my hallway and moved elsewhere. The new guards wanted absolutely nothing to do with me either. I felt like every time I walked into a room, the conversation died, and it was slowly breaking my already tender heart. I resorted to spending nearly all of my time in the library or the stables, but even the stables became botched.

  All these changes had happened so slowly, it was almost impossible to notice them, but now that they had all piled up, I felt like a fool for missing them.

  One late afternoon, I was carefully grooming Jester when a stunning woman slipped into the stables. It wasn't until I saw her long brown hair and glimmering green eyes that I realized I had seen this woman before in these barns. I carefully adjusted myself, hiding behind Jester's high rump as the woman strode towards us. The last time she had seen me, she curtsied and ran out the door. I had no idea who she was, and I wanted a chance to know what her purpose was before I scared her off the second time. Besides, it could very well be the most social interaction I would have all day.

  Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice me as she went directly to Cleopatra's stall which was still a fair distance away. I studied her as best as I could from where I stood, watching her over Jester's back. She was still as beautiful as she was the last time, with her delicate feminine features and those enticing green eyes. Even in her more basic clothing, she looked lovely, and I would be lying if I claimed I wasn't the slightest bit jealous of her. If I was half as beautiful as she was, I was almost certain that hundreds of men would've lined up to have my hand long before the king had, even when I had been a slave. That kind of beauty made sane men do wild things.

  “Hello, Cleopatra,” the woman murmured, stroking the mare's velvety muzzle. Even her voice was smooth and melodic. It only made me dislike her more. It wasn't fair to be so perfect. “The king is taking good care of you, isn't he? Very good thing that he is. You were the most expensive gift I've ever bought for anyone, and you're such a beautiful creature. It would be a shame for you to go to waste.”

  My heart pounded in my ears. This woman who looked like an angel and a goddess combined had bought my husband a present. A gift. This woman that I could never compete with had bought my husband something I could never afford. Something he had grown quite protective and proud of. And he had never once spoken of it to me.

  I was about to step out, my mouth open to demand who this woman was and why she felt she had the right to buy my husband gifts when the stable doors opened up once more and Archer’s right-hand guard strode in.

  “Come, we must leave,” he ordered.

  “But I only just got here,” the woman argued, but she seemed more angry than disappointed.

  “The king would be furious if he knew I allowed you to go into the barns without his permission. Please, come before we are found,” he repeated. He was anxious, his eyes flitting around the stables but never once landing on me or Jester.

  The woman pouted, something that I deemed to be a childish act long before I became queen, but she looked oddly elegant doing it. Then she gave Cleopatra a sweet kiss on her soft muzzle before she followed the guard's orders. Within the next minute, both the beautiful woman and the gruff guard were gone, leaving me with my impatient draft horse.

  I didn't even finish brushing my poor old horse. I was so stricken and so confused that I could barely manage to lead him to his own stall through the fog that was clouding my mind. I felt like my legs and arms were moving on their own accord. I was jealous and angry on top of everything else, though I couldn't completely understand why. I just glared at the stable hand I saw on the way out and the guards who asked if they should accompany me back inside the palace. It wasn't until I was in my own room, away from my maids, that I realized what was happening—what I had been denying for so long.

  The king was no longer spending time with me. He also didn’t seem terribly invested in having a child with me. And, now, I knew that a woman was buying him expensive gifts.

  My husband seemed to have a mistress.

  I thought I would cry. I waited for days to cry, thinking that the reality of what my husband was doing hadn't settled in yet, and when it did settle in, I would be an emotional wreck. But it didn't seem to be the case. I thought about the woman constantly, how glossy her hair was, how perfectly sculpted her cheek bones were, and how vibrant and alive her eyes were. She was tall and elegant with womanly curves that seemed to have been designed by Aphrodite herself.

  When I looked in the mirror, I saw none of those things in myself. My body was starting to fill out from my mild exercise and heavier diet. But all the food in the world couldn't help the fact that I had small breasts and only the gentlest curve indicated I had any hips at all. My blonde hair was still as brittle as ever. Though it wasn't falling out in clumps anymore, it was still badly damaged, and there was no beautiful shine or natural bounce to speak of. My blue eyes were dull in comparison to those sharp green ones, and my skin was deathly pale beside hers and the king's.

  It only made sense, I supposed. The king had given up on having a baby with me, and this beautiful woman seemed to have come into his life just as I arrived. Christ, when I pictured them side by side in my mind, they even looked pe
rfect together. He was dark, strong, and ever so proud with his sharp dauntingly-handsome features and collected expression. And she was this elegant woman whose eyes told tales of mischief but also of loyalty and passion. The kingdom would love them far more than they would ever love he and I together. The two of them together would emanate power and compassion.

  Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I had not yet cried because a part of me had always known that a poor slave girl would never be a proper queen. Someone was bound to replace me at some point. I had already been defeated less than a year into my marriage.

  But after years of being mistreated as a slave, shivering through frigid nights and gritting my teeth through beatings, I realized that I had never felt pain like this before. Strong and undeniable. Shocking and crippling.

  I had been broken.

  Chapter Thirty

  I held on as tightly as I could to what little I had left in this life for the next month. Every day, I thought about how much prettier she was than me and how I could never dream to keep my husband away from a woman like that, but there was no way I was letting him get away with such an action. So I would try and plot a way to attack him with it, to demand answers to all of my questions. When had they met? Had he been planning this the whole time? Why was this happening at all? Was it because I wasn't good enough for him? Was she his mate as well? And what would happen to me now?

  But the questions were never answered, and I believed it was—in part—because I feared the true responses. I had always thought I was too brave for my own good, but that no longer felt like the case. I did not want my husband to tell me to my face that, since I could not produce an heir yet, I was to be cast aside, making room for someone more fertile. How convenient it was that she was also stunning and evidently very charming. Or maybe he would tell me he never loved me at all, that this was some sort of werewolf law I would never be able to wrap my head around. Regardless of all the possibilities, I never did muster up the courage to ask, clinging to the last comfort of obliviousness.

  But, one morning, I was awoken by a face I did not recognize. The kind grey eyes were not eyes I knew, and I jerked myself into a sitting position. When I surveyed my bedroom, looking for Jasmine's quiet stability, Lydia's rigid orders, and Isabelle's shy enthusiasm, I didn't find what I was searching for. Instead, I was greeted by three eager maids, none of which I knew.

  “Good morning,” I said tightly, fearing the worst already. My beloved maids. The only friends I had in this palace. They were now gone too.

  “Good morning, my lady,” the first maid—the one who had woken me—replied with a gentle curtsy. The other two followed suit with impressive uniformity.

  “Where are my maids?” I asked, not the slightest bit worried about my own rudeness when they were all being so kind.

  “The king requested we begin taking care of you,” another maid replied.

  The mood in the room shifted to one of anxiety with my abrasive comments. It was clear they understood that I was not happy about this change. Had I been more stable, I would've tried to comfort them because this disaster was not their fault—they were just following orders—but, now, I wasn’t even strong enough to keep my emotions steady.

  “I see,” I muttered, but I was barely holding on to the last pinch of sanity I had left.

  My mind was a complete and utter mush as the new maids dressed me. I restrained myself from snapping at them when they tightened the corset too much or when I caught them staring at the scars on my ankles from my years in shackles. Though I was grateful to have another human being in the room with me, I wished it could've been the three that I had grown so comfortable with and not these three strangers. No matter how kind they were, they were not my friends.

  But, in a way, it seemed to be a good thing, though I hadn't realized it at first. With these new maids hovering around me, walking on eggshells and never addressing me as anything other than my proper titles, I could be certain that the king had pushed it too far.

  He had taken away everything: my quiet dinners with him, my caring guard, and my endearing maids, and I finally had enough. Though I wasn't brave enough to confront him directly, I was ready to go after his new mistress.

  I doubted she was ready for me.

  I had only seen her three times, twice in the barn and once by the library ages ago—when I had been sneaking werewolf books. Since I had no other leads on who she was or what she wanted—other than my husband—I decided to loiter around those areas as much as possible. The guards didn't seem to notice my slight change in habits, and for once, I was pleased that my maids and guards had been switched. Lydia certainly would've been curious about my new habits and bizarre mood. James would've grilled me with questions until I made a mistake and told him the truth, and I know that I would never be able to lie to Isabelle if she asked. But with my usual maids and guards tending to a different cause, I was free from their interrogation and now under the watch of the less-informed but very eager staff.

  Then, it finally happened.

  After five days, I finally managed to pin down the woman, catching her by surprise when I strode towards the library just as she was exiting. It was luck, and I was momentarily startled, almost deciding that now would not be the best time for a confrontation of this sort, but I fought hard against those thoughts. As scared as I was to know the truth, I couldn’t float through this limbo anymore.

  “Queen Willow,” she breathed with a beautiful curtsy then moved to make a dash around me. It was like she knew she was a frightened hare and I was a fox.

  But I was not about to let my prey outsmart me. I was faster and much too angry to let her slip away again despite her quick thinking and smooth efforts. My hand closed around her arm in an iron hold, and I gave her a false smile when she looked at me with horror. Her fear gave me a twinge of satisfaction.

  “Come, sit. I would love to get to know you. You are one of my subjects, aren't you?” I murmured, my voice sickly sweet.

  “Yes, my lady, I am,” the woman whispered back, her beautiful eyes looking around in a disturbed manner.

  “Good. Come and sit,” I repeated, gesturing to the two armchairs I spent hours in with my tutor.

  The woman seemed to realize she didn't have any choice in the matter. I was not letting her go, and all I had to do was scream for my guards and they would drag her back here by her hair if I wanted them to. She might've been favoured by the king, but I was still the queen which meant I had power over all of my subjects.

  We both sat down in the velvet armchairs. Her eyes flicked towards the door, and I carefully leaned forward, letting her know that if she tried to run, I would grab her and keep her here.

  “Tell me who you are,” I demanded. My voice was soft but menacing, and that awful smile had yet to leave my lips.

  “No one you need to concern yourself with,” the woman replied with a humbled expression.

  I knew she was putting on a façade just as much as I was, and it nearly made me snap, but I held back my angry words.

  “Nonsense. All of my subjects have worth to me,” I dismissed, “but not all my subjects can freely walk around my palace. Tell me, how did you achieve such a privilege without ever meeting me.”

  The woman visibly paled, and I felt my heart pound with victory but my stomach turn with sickness. I was glad to finally have the upper hand for once, but I didn't want my awful theory to be proven right all at the same time. My curiosity would be sated but at what cost?

  “I used to be very close with the king. Many of the servants and guards still know me, and I love coming to visit them when I get the chance,” she confessed, dropping her eyes to the carpet.

  “How did you become close to the king?”

  She took a deep breath, and I would've thought she was crying if she hadn't forced herself to lift her gaze to mine and hold it.

  “I was married to the king before you.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  My pounding heart seemed
to stop at her words, and, for a moment, I could do nothing but stare at her. I could not believe this woman claimed to be the runaway queen. When my husband spoke of her, his was voice low and angry with traces of heart break. I couldn't help but imagine someone different. I was never foolish enough to believe he would be with someone deeply unattractive, but I had imagined someone who appeared to be a little more mean-spirited. Someone who had an obvious edge or a cruel streak. Not someone who looked like a perfect creation from God. Not someone who was infinitely more beautiful and charismatic than me.

  “You are his ex-wife,” I breathed. I finally managed to speak some words, and with the shake of my head, I began to streamline my thoughts. My entire plan of accusation seemed like it would not be carried out. But as the angry thoughts of confrontation were shoved out my mind, hundreds of questions I never thought I would get answers to replaced them. “But why did you leave? And why have you come back? If the king knew you were here, he would be furious.” Or maybe I was kidding myself and he would be delighted to have his beautiful noble first wife by his side once more, but I didn’t dare say it.

  “Please, don't call me his wife,” she whispered and suppressed a shudder. “Call me Ella.”

  “Alright, Ella, why have you come here? How long have you been here? Does the king know you're here?” I drilled again. I couldn’t have cared less about her name. I needed to know all the things that my dear husband was hiding from me.

  “The king does not know I'm here. I am worried that he would not be pleased if he knew and I worry . . .” she trailed off, her green eyes drifting away from mine. “But I have come here for you.”

  “Me?” I blurted, astonished, but somewhat relieved that she wasn't chasing after my husband. There was no way I could compete with a woman like her.