208 years ago

It’s been almost thirty years, but I’m back in the wilds of Memnos, searching for a prophetess whose name I don’t know.

“It’s a stupid idea,” Malaki said when I told him where I was going. “There are things there that don’t give a shit that you’re king. They’ll eat you all the same.”

I slid my daggers into my belt. “Then I’ll make them fear me.”

He frowned at me.

“I need to talk to that woman,” I explained. “She has the answers I seek.”

“At least let me go with you,” he pleaded.

But I hadn’t let him join me. Malaki was the only one I trusted enough to rule in my stead.

So now I wander through the dark forest alone. The place is ominously quiet, save for a few unnatural howls every now and then.

I get the distinct impression that I’m being stalked, but by what, I have no clue.

Let them stalk me, I could use a fight.

“Where is she?” I ask the shadows now.

… Who? …

“The prophetess,” I say. I cast her image into the night. The darkness gathers around it, studying her features.

“Looking for me?” a voice purrs at my back.

I turn and face the woman herself. She’s just as I remembered. Her silver hair cascades to her waist, and her eyes are just a touch mad.

Those mad eyes rake over me. “Desmond Flynn, it has been awhile. Tell me, why has my king come to visit?”

Unlike the last time I met with her, it’s not a shock to hear my real name spoken from her lips. Now that I’m no longer in hiding—now that I’m king—it’s the name I go by.

I thought that I’d want to shake everything about my sad childhood, but I’m oddly sentimental about my name. It’s a reminder of my humble beginnings—and the mother who gave it all for me in the end.

“I think you already know,” I say. In truth, I’m not sure that the prophetess does. I don’t know how omniscient she is. But better to assume the worst.

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh do I now?”

I don’t respond.

Her gaze flicks to my war cuffs. “I see you followed my instructions.” Her attention floats up to me. “I’m curious,” she says, “did you enjoy killing him?” She smiles a little as she asks it.

The prophetess begins to walk around me, her skirts swishing with the movement. “I imagine you did.” She touches one of my arms, running her fingers lightly down it. “You had so much anger in your blood the last time we spoke. I wonder if it still burns as hotly …”

I lift a mocking eyebrow. “Is this the best reading you can do these days? It’s distinctly less impressive than I remembered.”

“Ah, the mighty king is finally coming into his own. I’ll try my best to meet your expectations.” She smiles at me, like she can see right through my bravado.

The prophetess halts back in front of me. “So you’re not here to end your father, and you already have the crown …” She lifts up her fingers. “Let’s see: revenge, power—ah, that leaves love.” She looks positively delighted. “You’re here about the human girl, aren’t you?” She throws her head back and laughs. “The mighty Desmond Flynn has been cut down by love.”

This is distinctly unamusing.

She clasps my cheeks in her hands, startling me.

“Say it,” she says.

“Say what?”

“Say that you’re here for her—the human girl. Say, ‘I’m in love with a slave I’ve never met.’”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“‘I’m in love with a slave I’ve never met.’”

She laughs again. “Say, ‘The thought of her gets my prick hard.’”

I’m dealing with a mad woman. I begin to pull away from her.

“Ah, ah,” she chides. Her magic lashes out, slashing open the skin along my neck.

I grab her by the throat as my blood begins to flow, slamming her back against a nearby tree. “You do realize it’s high treason to wound the king?” I say softly.

Perhaps I’ll get to fight tonight after all.

She reaches out and pats my cheek. “Come, now, Desmond, don’t be a poor sport. Prophecies don’t come freely.” As she speaks, the blood dripping down my neck begins to sizzle away. The prophetess collecting her payment.

Reluctantly, I release the woman.

She rubs her neck, her eyes going distant. “Your human mate is going to drive you half insane before you find her, and even more so once you do.”

The prophetess’s gaze sharpens once more. She backs away, and I think this is just part of her restless nature until I realize she’s leaving.

I stride after her. “Wait, that’s it?”

I touch the healing wound along my neck. I gave her much more of my blood this time than I had before. Surely she has more for me than a single sentence’s worth of a prophecy? Especially one that I could’ve told her myself.

She gives me a puzzled look. “Have I displeased you, my king?” The corner of her mouth curves up just the slightest.

I want to shake this woman. “That wasn’t a prophecy,” I growl.

“It was,” she says, “it just wasn’t the one you wanted.” She gives me a wry look. “You thought finding her would be easy? That somehow the Fates should go easy on you because her life thread is so much shorter than ours?” She touches my chest, right where my heart rests beneath flesh and cloth. “Love costs even more than power, even more than revenge or hate.”

The prophetess drops her hand and backs away. “I do hope you find her. Best of luck my king,” she says, and I think she means it.

With that, she melts into the forest. And I’m no better off than I was before.