My first day in the book, I was kneeling in the great hall with other new ladies before I even knew the palace layout. The king, unlike his patient and wise reputation, pointed at the pale girl beside me and roared, "Elomen, kill her." Trembling, I watched her be sentenced. When my turn came, the tyrant smiled cruy at my fear. This one stays. That night, he dragged me to his chambers and tormented me endlessly. Afterward, he used me wherever he pleased. I suffered silently as his play thing. Then, the day I gave birth, I saw a furry wolf cub between my legs. Shock overwhelmed me. A court drama, not a fantasy zoo. Was this heaven's way of ending me? Fear sent my mind into overdrive. Shaking, I frantically dug through my hazy memories of the original novel. The book had an unfinished, rushed ending. The main character, King Cyrus, presented a facade of a diligent and benevolent ruler. In reality, he was a dark, violent tyrant who killed without a second thought. And the original owner of this body, Clara, which was now me, was nothing more than insignificant cannon fodder. After her first night with the king, she had secretly drunk a contraceptive tonic. Cyrus caught her in the act. Since you love your medicine so much, he'd said, his voice cold as ice, we shall let you drink your fill. And so, the original Clara was forced to drink an entire barrel of the bitter tea until her stomach literally burst. The bloody lesson was seared into my brain. To survive, I had spent the last year being utterly meticulously obedient. If he wanted a bed warmer, I'd be silent as a stone. If he commanded me to submit, I wouldn't dare resist. If he wanted me on my stomach, I wouldn't dream of turning over. I had tried so hard. I had been so compliant. And for what? Staring at the furry little wolf cub between my legs. I managed a weak, desperate smile. This wasn't just deceiving the crown. This was corrupting the entire royal bloodline. This was witchcraft. A dark omen that would throw the kingdom into chaos. Would that damn king feed me to the wolves? Or worse, Ty and this little cup to a stake and burn us alive? Was this my punishment for trying to change the plot? My mind was a tangled mess. I watched as the little cub clumsily rolled over. It stuck out a tiny pink tongue and began licking its soft fur. He was almost cute. No, get a grip, Clara. That thing is your death sentence. Just as I was staring at the evidence on the bed, paralyzed with terror, a voice from outside sent a chill down my spine. How is Lady Clara? Your your majesty. The child is born. But the servant's voice trembled like a candle flame in the wind. As long as the child is born, that is all that matters. Cyrus's voice actually sounded pleased. Almost eager. Don't tell me he was excited to be a father. All that matters. If you knew what I gave birth to, you'd be saying, "As long as they're both dead." The footsteps grew closer. My body was as taught as a drawn bow, my heart hammering against my ribs. There was no time for maternal bonding. With the fastest hands I'd ever had, I snatched the wolf cub by its tail and shoved it deep under the bed. "Be a good boy," I whispered frantically. "Don't you make a sound, or the royal kitchens will be serving a new special tonight. Wolf stew, and you're the main course." The cub let out a tiny wounded whimper and then miraculously fell silent. Cyrus strode into the room, though he was in his plain robes. The oppressive aura around him was as potent as ever. His eyes scanned the empty bed, a flicker of impatience crossing his features. "Where is the child? Lie. Lie to this man whose face could silence a crying child. I couldn't do it. The the child didn't. didn't. The gruesome image of the original Clara's death played on a loop in my head. The fear was bone deep. My lips tumbled like dead leaves in a gale. The words make it were caught in my throat, refusing to come out. Cyrus's brow furrowed an annoyance. He closed the distance between us in a single step and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. Well, I asked you a question. Where is the child? His fingertips were like ice, sending a shiver through my entire body. I
