"I want you to get pregnant for Isaac."
King Draven said, his voice casual and commanding, as if he were discussing what to eat for lunch rather than the orchestration of his son's reproduction. He sat on his throne, his feet submerged in a golden basin; maids knelt before him, washing and perfuming his feet and toes. Before him stood Nia, who had taken a self-appointed break from her duties in Isaac's cage.
Nia frowned at those words.
"Your Highness, I am sure you know better than me. That is practically impossible."
"Never thought something would be impossible for the man-charm, Nia," the king said, his voice dripping with contempt.
Nia refused to react. She had stayed with Isaac long enough to understand her capabilities or, rather, her complete lack of charm when it came to him. The possibility of seducing that cold, unreachable man was zero. And she had no desire to risk returning to his quarters after exposing him to the king. Who knew what he would do to her?
