Chapter 19
Nineteen
Thorin- 17 years old
“ C ongratulations, you’re pregnant!”
You’re pregnant. You’re. Pregnant. I’m pregnant.
Bile rises to my throat. This can’t be happening. “Ar–are you sure? I’m due for my moon cycle any day now. Maybe we should wait a few more days?”
The same doctor who delivered Aladia’s child just a few months ago pulls a giant needle from my arm, dropping it with a clank into the metal tray beside him. “Oh no, little lifebringer, the level of healing magic running through your veins is astronomical. So high I wouldn’t be surprised if there are multiples.
“MULTIPLES?!” The shriek that escapes me sounds like a dying fox.
The white coat talks but I can’t hear anything other than the ringing in my ears. The sterile white stone room fades as my vision tunnels, eyes locked onto the words on the file in front of me.
Thorin (No Surname) | Lifebringer Status: Positive
Seventeen-year-old Pixie
Four-foot-eleven
Eighty-two pounds and six ounces (pre-pregnancy)
Magical Background: Presented as a healer at thirteen-years-old. Was tested upon arrival. Positive elemental genes, but has yet to show the ability to wield it. Patient carries unidentifiable magical markers: continue testing
Family Background
Possible Fathers: Eight (One being another healer. Same male every week for the last year. Shows high levels of power in blood and highborn ancestry ) *See breeding logs for identities*
My father should have thrown me into a volcano.
“Ms. Thorin, Mr. DeTrill has moved your belongings to your new quarters and has requested that you only be treated by his selected midwife. You will also be going through magical therapy throughout the duration of your pregnancy.”
“My new quarters?’
The doctor cringes, probably aware of how terrible this new living arrangement actually is. “Oh, yes, you will be living in the Master’s lodge on the far side of the campsite. He also has requested that you wear this. Please, remove your clothing and put it on.” He drapes the outfit over his arm while waiting for me to undress. I strip as quickly as possible—there’s no need for me to drag out the process—folding my shirt and pants neatly on the table beside me. The doctor presents my new uniform and I lift it with the tips of my fingers, like it’s going to bite me. It’s a dress so small that I’m questioning if it’s made for an actual child.
Picking up on my hesitation the doctor clears his throat. “It’s spelled to fit you perfectly, growing with your body.”
Great. Wonderful. How kind.
Reluctantly, I pull the dress over my head, and as he said, the dress stretches to mold me. Two slivers of fabric for straps lead to a low-cut laced front. The sandstone-colored lace is a stark contrast against my deep skin. Maybe in a different reality, this would be beautiful, but all I can see is the object I’ve become.
At the far edge of the campsite sits a surprisingly large, beautiful home made of brick and white stone with a steep pitched shingle roof. Amber dragon-glass windows and wooden beams in the shape of Xs decorate the front of the house. It’s much too gorgeous to be sitting inside a death camp. Three steps lead up to the entrance where a deep burgundy door taunts me. This is my home now. Once I pass that heavy hinged wood this Thorin dies and the next evolution arises. There’s no stopping this.
Lifting each leg up the steps feels like I’m carrying one-hundred-pound weights around each ankle, but I force myself forward anyway. With both feet firmly planted on the last step, I take a deep breath and wrap my fingers around the golden knob. My skin barely caresses the smooth surface before it’s ripped away, revealing an onyx-haired goblin. Scarcely reaching the height of my knees, he takes a few steps back to see me better—or he would probably break his neck with how far back he would have to tilt it. His appearance surprises me. Dressed in a cobalt overcoat, white tunic, and brown leather pants, he looks like royalty.
Flaring the nostrils of his snub nose, he sucks his teeth.
Shrinking into myself, a cold chill washes over my body. The action sends me back into a vision of the disapproving glares the king would give me.
Yellow eyes bore into me. “Master does not like to be left waiting, lifebringer.” As his raspy voice leaves his mouth, I can see the glint of jagged teeth.
Dropping my eyes, I don’t bother to come up with a response, already knowing how vicious Locren can be. My teeth puncture the inside of my cheek with the final steps into my personal hell. The heavy thud of the door closing behind me has me finally lifting my head. It’s breathtaking. Absolutely, breathtaking.
I hate it.
Directly across from the entryway is an enormous stained glass circular window. Rays of amber and evergreen dance across a rich wooden floor—you can feel the magic emanating from them. The walls are painted blood red with a permanent wet look to them. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it is blood that has been spelled.
“Lifebringer, you will have plenty of time to admire the interior of Master’s home later. Right now we must hurry to his office.” The goblin’s grating voice breaks my state of awe. He hands me a set of velvet slippers and instructs me to put them on, stating that my disgusting feet shouldn’t be marring the floors.
We walk through the large sitting area to a back wall where the opening to a hallway awaits. The long corridor is dark and silent. So silent I can hear air fill my lungs with each breath. Torches light themselves as we continue down, illuminating shadowy objects hanging on the wall next to them. The closer we get the more the light reveals what they are. I stop dead in my tracks, an icy chill runs down my spine.
I’m almost convinced I’m hallucinating, but when my shaky fingers graze the object all doubts fly out the window. Giant iridescent wings are splayed out, floating against the wall. Between the wings is a portion of the spinal column, tendons, and ligaments still attached to the roots of the wings. Spinning around I find another pair of wings. These are smaller with scalloped edges, muted blues and greens glisten in the firelight. A chilling feeling of dread washes over me triggering my flight response. I sprint down the hallway, pair after pair becoming softly lit. Every one of them is from different types of fae. Dropping to my knees in a state of shock and sorrow, I wrap my arms around my chest, rubbing my shoulder blades.
Gradually, the air becomes thicker, like breathing in heavy sludge—I know he’s here.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
Craning my neck, I shoot him a look of pure disdain. Beautiful . If they were still attached to their owners I would be inclined to agree. “More like, dreadful.”
He sighs before moving to me at an ungodsly speed. Weaving his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck he wrenches me off the floor. “When will you learn a smart mouth will get you nowhere but trouble.” His voice is smooth but vicious, slithering into my ears.
Locren presses his nose to my hair, inhaling deeply. “Your blood smells so fucking delicious. I think it’s time for a nice warm glass.” He drops his arm, letting me hit the ground, but keeps his fingers tightly knit in place. With long, deliberate steps Locren drags me back down the hall before halting and pressing his hand to the wall. A gilded door materializes before swinging open. The flooring changes from wood to smooth stone—freezing cold stone against my bare skin.
Locren drops me in front of his leather couch. “Stay,” he says, deep and demanding, sauntering to his desk. He doesn’t control me with his hypnotic stare. He knows I have nowhere to go.
Pulling open a drawer, he takes out a small black box. A small silver claw ring is retrieved and slipped onto his pointer finger. He takes a moment to admire it before coming back to me. “Give me your wrist, little blood bag.” When I don’t obey fast enough, he roughly snatches it into his grasp and presses the jewelry to my skin. Dragging the point toward my palm, he licks his lips as deep red blood blossoms. A guttural groan escapes him the moment his lips seal around the incision, drinking me down in greedy gulps.
The scene only lasts a few seconds before he’s pulling away, white blonde brows pinched tight. “Interesting…” He examines the healed area closely. “It seems the little soldier has already boosted your healing abilities. This is new to me.”