Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 334

Chapter 114: Lineage of the Queens

Troy

Maeve and Ethan needed to talk; that was obvious.

Things had been tense between them since we had arrived in Winter Forest several weeks ago and had only escalated from there. The situation with Tasia and the moonstones was out of our control and only made things worse, but that was over now.

I had been trying to find a way to put Maeve in Ethan’s path, knowing the two were too bullheaded to actually find a time to hash things out on their own, but so far had been unsuccessful.

The days following our battle with Tasia had been shockingly chaotic and full, with everyone preparing to go their separate ways and start new lives.

I had seen more of Ethan and Rowan than anyone as it was, spending most of my time in the Alpha’s office in the castle pouring over maps and whatever records of Poldesse Ethan had managed to get his hands on.

Rowan was always there, doing much the same for his new pack, slightly pale as he prepared to take over the role of Alpha of Drogomor on his own once Ethan returned with Rosalie to Winter Forest.

But I got a lucky break on Saturday, just a few days before Rowan and Hanna were meant to be officially wed. Rosalie

had pulled me aside shortly after breakfast, asking if I’d be willing to go to Winter Forest with her to pack up Rowan and Maeve’s belongings.

I didn’t even wonder why Rosalie would ask me something like that. I knew she could have Gretchen do it and have warriors send their belongings to not only Mirage, but to Avondale.

Rosalie wanted a break from the turmoil the rift between Maeve and Ethan was causing, and I could tell she knew I was looking for an escape as well.

We landed in Winter Forest in the early morning on Sunday, meaning to be back in the air the following morning. It was meant to be a quick, calculated trip-no frills. But when we reached the port of Winter Forest, I could tell Rosalie had something else on her mind.

“I still don’t know how you managed to convince Maeve that I could come with you,” I said, reaching up to take her hand as I helped her out of the seaplane and onto the dock.

“It was easier than I expected, honestly. Maeve doesn’t want to be carting the boys around right before you all make the long journey to the Isles. Plus, I know for a fact the last thing she wanted to do was go through all of her things. She always hated doing things like that, organizing and getting rid of things.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed Maeve tends to thrive in chaos,” I laughed, and from there on the conversation took an easy turn into less meaningful ramblings as we walked up to the house.

“It can’t be easy on you… packing up their things like this,” I said softly, my footsteps crunching in the snow. It had

snowed quite a bit since we left Winter Forest, and there had been a lot of snow then. Now it clung to the top of the wall that surrounded the house.

“I knew this was coming, in one way or another. It goes by fast, you know. One day they’re little, and the next day… well, I honestly didn’t expect Maeve to find her mate so quickly. And Troy, I am glad it’s you. I hope you know that.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat as we entered the house. It couldn’t have been easy for Rosalie to say such a thing to me. I was the son of her worst enemy, a woman who caused immense grief to Rosalie.

And now I was not only her daughter’s mate and husband, but the father of her grandchildren. Grandchildren that shared my, and my mother’s, blood.

Rosalie said nothing further as we shed our coats and boots, as we were quickly greeted by Gretchen, who was trembling with anticipation to hear the news of everything that had happened in Mirage over the past several weeks.

She ushered Rosalie through the house and into the kitchen, where their conversation faded to a low murmur. I was left alone in the foyer, unsure of whether or not to follow.

I decided to go upstairs, grabbing an armful of cardboard boxes that Gretchen had rested against the stairs.

We only had a day to prepare Rowan and Maeve for their new lives, after all.

The color of the walls in Maeve’s room was a deep violet, of course. She loved the color purple. It matched her bedspread, a thick quilt made of varying shades of purple fabric and well worn from years of use. I folded the quilt into a tight square, having a feeling that Maeve would want to keep it.

I’d packed up the rest of her room already, spending the better part of three hours looking through her things. I took down the pictures hanging on the walls; pictures of a younger Maeve and her friends, her parents, even a few of her and Rowan as children, and put the pictures in one of the boxes along with an assortment of books and other trinkets.

She didn’t want me to pack any of her clothes, begrudgingly saying nothing would fit her anymore, so I left her dresser untouched and instead moved on to the bedside tables.

| smiled to myself as I opened one of the drawers, suddenly remembering the first day Maeve spent on the Persephone.

She had torn my room apart, looking in every drawer and cabinet. She had pulled the drawers of the bedside table out of the table completely, dumping the meager contents on the bed.

Then, she had fallen asleep, and when I came to check on her a few hours later, I found her curled around the contents of the drawer, her face stained with tears.

I’d felt awful. I hadn’t known what to do. I was convinced at that moment that I had lost her forever. But little did I know what was in store for me.

I sat on the edge of her bed and looked down at the journal in my hands. It was her’s, well-loved and often used, from what I

could tell. I kept it closed but ran my fingers over the cover where she had carved her name in the leather.

If she had found a journal of mine, she would, without a doubt, have opened it and read it. But I chose to put it into the last of the boxes I needed to pack and then taped the box shut.

“Hey,” Rosalie said from the doorway, gingerly stepping inside with two mugs of fragrant, milky tea in her hands.

“Hey, I think this is it-” I motioned toward the now empty room, save for the bare furniture. She nodded, taking a deep breath as she looked around. She handed me the tea, then leaned against the doorway, a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“When she went to Drogomor to rule alongside Ernest, I… I don’t know. It didn’t feel final. I always thought Ethan would change his mind, and she would come home.”

“Why did Ethan want to send Maeve to Mirage, exactly? || never really understood the reasoning.”

Rosalie exhaled deeply, then sighed as she looked around the room once more. “We‘d been able to rule over Valoria with relative ease for two decades, even with Ethan here with me in Winter Forest. Georgia and Talon did a fine job as Alpha and Luna of Drogomor, for a while, but Georgia was restless.

“When Talon broached the subject of passing on his title to Ernest, it caused a bit of a rift between Ethan and the High Elder Council. They weren’t too keen on a seventeen-year-old becoming the Alpha of Drogomor, but Ethan convinced them otherwise.

“It wasn’t until Ernest refused to find a Luna for Drogomor that the arrangement became an issue.” She sat on the edge of the bed, cupping her hands around her mug of tea.

“Some packs elect their Alphas, you know. The Elders of Valoria were worried about something like that happening to the Drogomor line if Ernest didn’t produce an heir. Ernest dug his heels in, saying he would resign-”

“He did that anyway. Why not just send Rowan to Mirage to be Alpha?”

“Ethan will never admit it, Troy. And please, do not repeat this but… he wasn’t ready to let Rowan go. Sending Rowan to Mirage to be Alpha of Drogomor was the expected choice. He was Ethan’s heir, the rightful Alpha by birthright, and he was several years older than Ernest as well. But Ethan just wouldn’ t do it. And when it came down to it, he chose to send Maeve instead.”

“Why? Maeve’s situation was… much worse, if I’m being blunt-”

“I know. And I disagreed wholeheartedly with it, but Maeve wanted to go. She wanted it more than anything. Maeve would be White Queen one day; she would come home to us when her time in Mirage was at an end.

“But Rowan? He would’ve remained forever in Mirage. And Ethan wasn’t ready for that. That’s all it came down to. He let one of our children go, one that would come back, so the other could remain.”

“It’s archaic, Rosalie,” I said, unable to hide the bitter edge to my voice.

She nodded, agreeing with me. “We raised them differently than how we were raised, Troy. But it didn’t change the fact that this is the world we live in. Heirs, lines, lineages… politics. We can’t escape it as royals. Your sons won’t be able to escape it, either. Triplet sons in line for succession… it’s a lot to think about, to consider.”

“We have many years,” I replied.

The discussion died, and I took a drink of my tea, looking around the room. Rosalie did the same. After a moment of somber silence, I spoke again, asking the question that had been nagging me since I left for Winter Forest with Rosalie.

“Did Hanna tell you about her visions of the white-haired girl?” From NôvelDrama.Org.

Rosalie nodded, her eyes widening. “Can you imagine?”

“Not if what Hanna believes her to be is correct.”

“I have something to show you,” Rosalie said as she rose to her feet. “Come with me. Gretchen is making dinner, and I have some loose ends to tie up this evening before we go back to Mirage, but….” she trailed off, her voice fading as she moved into the hallway, beckoning for me to follow.

Before I knew it, I was suited up for a short walk to the castle grounds. The castle was quiet, like usual, no more than the occasional footsteps and hushed voices of warriors passing by.

Rosalie led me into the library, the same room where Ernest had relinquished his title of Alpha and the old Lycennian woman had warned us of times to come.

The library took on a new air of peace and tranquilty with it just being Rosalie and I inside its walls, however. She was on a mission, and she quickly crossed the room, scanning one of

the ceiling height bookshelves.

I lingered near the hearth, thankful for the warmth. I had never experienced cold quite like that before, so dry and biting it was painful on my skin, even with layers of clothes on.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before,” she murmured, pulling a large, leather bound book from the shelf. She walked over to me, looking down at its unmarked cover.

“What is it?” I asked as she set it down on the coffee table near the hearth, motioning for me to sit as she opened it, fanning through what looked like thousands of pages, yellowed and crinkled with age.

“A history of this region, of the White Queens in particular. When the wall of the White Queen’s temple was destroyed, the one with the names of the previous White Queens etched into the granite, I thought that knowledge had been lost-oh, here it is. I haven’t looked at this book in many years.”

She blew on the book, and the dust that had settled between the pages burst into the air and fluttered down. It was nearing dark, but only 2:00 in the afternoon, and the speckles of dust seemed to float in the faint, golden sunset coming through the tall stained glass windows.

I looked down at the page, seeing a family tree.

“Oh, wow. This is everyone?”

“Everyone before my great grandmother’s time as White

Queen, I believe. That’s her name there, Loralyn. I knew this was here, this tree, but never even looked at it. I don’t know why, maybe I just… didn’t want to know. The last time I looked at this book was to try

and find a way to save Ethan when… well, this is how I found out about the Moonlight Lily.”

I was careful not to touch the page as I followed the tree down toward the base of the trunk. Morrighan’s name was written cleanly in neat, legible scrawl at the bottom of the page, where the tree met with the ground.

Hundreds of branches sprouted from the base of the tree, heavy with names-names of mates, names of siblings, of aunts and uncles. But the names of the White Queens were written in bold, sometimes in a separate color, and it was plain that additions had been made to this page over the centuries. I looked up at the top of the page once more, settling my gaze on Loralyn’s name, then traveled down.

Loralyn, Adelaide, Henrietta, Mary, Catherine, and so on.

But then I saw it, and a strange feeling crept over me as | stared down at the page, my heart tightening in my chest.

Maeve.

She was the daughter of Alouette.

“Oh,” I said weakly, unable to take my eyes away from the tree.

“Ethan chose Maeve’s name. He wouldn’t have known about this. The names that used to be in the temple didn’t go this far back,” Rosalie said quietly, her voice choked with emotion.

“It must mean something, right?” I looked past Alouette to her

mother’s name, Onya, which was written above it. Alouette had been her only child.

“Maybe, but it’s likely we’ll never know the significance. But look here, can you see this name? It’s written so small I can barely see it myself-”

Next to Alouette’s name was a mark connecting her to her mate, where more lines created the branches of the children they had together. My eye’s widened as I looked down at Callum’s name. They had been together, at some point in time, to go on to have three more children together after their Maeve was born.

“But how? The records of Valoria cleared stated Alouette had born a son for King Hector-”

“I wish I knew,” Rosalie sighed, sinking into the couch opposite mine. “Maybe she had her daughter with Callum before bearing a son for King Hector, and then reunited with Callum later in her life.”

“… thank you for showing me this,” I whispered, unable to make sense of the emotions I felt as I looked down at the page once more, reading the names that came after Alouette and Maeve the First.

Maeve had a daughter named Juniper, who had a daughter named Clarissa. Elizabeth followed, then Marianne, Georgiana, Gwen, Juliette, and Eloise. I traced a line through the names, meeting with Loralyn once again.

“We should add your names to the book,” I said, meeting Rosalie’s eyes. “There was no break in the line like we thought.”

“I wonder what that means for Rowan and Hanna,” she replied, pursing her lips. “Have you wondered if maybe the girl isn’t Hanna’s daughter but Maeve’s?”

“Maeve won’t even think of having another child, Rosalie,” || said softly, gently closing the book. “Plus, Rowan is part of this family tree. The male offspring were listed as well… that means something, I believe. The powers of the White Queen pass to all descendants in one way or another. They have to.”

I rose from the couch and took the book back to its rightful place, looking around to mesmerize the layout of the shelf for future reference.

“Do you think Maeve will be a White Queen one day?” I asked without meaning to say it out loud. I colored, refusing to turn to face Rosalie.

“Yes, I do. But she’s not ready. Not now. Not for some time. Do you remember what the old woman from Lycenna said? That Maeve’s powers would be… immense, is how I took it.”

“I do,” I replied, turning around.

“I think she’ll be a powerful White Queen, Troy, when her time comes. But Maeve still needs to learn who she is, before she knows what she can do.”

| swallowed, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Not what you were expecting from a mate, right?” Rosalie said with a little laugh, her blue eyes glistening in the light of the hearth.

“I knew I was in for it the first time I saw her, Rosalie.” I smiled,

shaking my head.