Page 60 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

“With each other. There were a few High Lords who dared dispute King Tiane’s birthright to the crown. As the late king's nephew and King Tiane’s first cousin, High Lord Bussard was one of them. But in the name of the king, High General Voron defeated the High Lord’s armies and put an end to that war. The king then exiled High Lord Bussard to the Far Isles.”

“I see. And why would anyone dispute the king’s birthright?”

She shrugged again, not looking very concerned. “Everyone wants to wear the crown, I guess.”

After Alacine finished cleaning and left, I stood in front of the mirror and studied my reflection. It had very much the face of a stranger, since I only had memories of it beingmyface for the past two weeks.

Hazel eyes. Medium-brown hair, reaching just below my shoulder blades. Not too many lines yet. I must be in my twenties. Mid to late twenties, maybe, as all traces of childhood appeared to have left my features already.

Who was this woman all her life? The life I didn’t remember?

Would she balk at the idea of sleeping with a married man and having his baby only to give it up for others to raise?

Or would she look at what was expected of me as the opportunity to help a childless couple to start a family? To gift a queen, trapped in a loveless marriage, a new purpose in life? And to give the kingdom new hope?

I would never know what I would’ve thought about all of this in the past. I could only figure out how I felt about it now.

As it turned out, I wasn’t in Elaros to become the king’s girlfriend. I wasn’t even his mistress. I was apet.

The only way to improve my status would be to get pregnant. As the birth mother of the heir to the crown, I’d have enough respect from those in power to keep the collar off my neck.

However, that option came with emotional implications I wasn’t sure how to handle. There’d be intimacy with the man who would never be mine and a baby I’d have to give up.

Besides, King Tiane didn’t seem eager to bed me. I hadn’t even seen his bedroom yet.

Taking off the silk robe I was wearing, I pressed my hands to my hips through the transparent material of my nightgown.

This was not the body of a fae. My skin didn’t glow like theirs. But even if it did, I’d still look nothing like them. The ladies of the court were tall and waiflike, with delicate necks, graceful limbs, and small, perky breasts.

I was at least a head shorter than any of them. My hips were much wider. My full breasts rested heavily against my ribs without the support of a bra or the lift of a corset. I turned sideways, noting the visible swell of my belly and the thickness of my thighs.

The way Voron looked at me made me feel desirable. But was that really the case?

From the knowledge I’d retained about the human world, my body wouldn’t meet the beauty standards there. How could I be considered attractive by fae who lived surrounded by perfection?

Trez had said I was short and chunky. Plain and unappealing. King Tiane had called me “short and chubby” when he first saw me. Those weren’t the words used to describe conventionally attractive women.

Now I understood better why Voron named me Sparrow. He chose the name after a single look at me. Like Trez, he saw someone “plain and unappealing.” Mousy, like the most humble bird of all.

How far would my “exotic” status of a human take me in Elaros? How long before the novelty of having a companion from another world would wear off for the king? What if I never became the mother of the royal heir that would ensure my status?

One thing was clear, I couldn’t rely on the whims of powerful highborn for my future.

Everyone in this kingdom had a purpose.

I had to find mine.

ChapterFifteen

SPARROW

“Can I help you peel the carrots?” I asked a young kitchen helper.

The smooth efficiency with which he was handling the knife was slightly intimidating, but I was determined to try doing the same.

Elaros was huge. The palace alone was populated by hundreds of courtiers with thousands of people serving them. All I needed was to find a task, a job, a chore that I could do to prove myself useful even if the king’s attention went elsewhere.

The boy eyed me suspiciously, not giving up his carrots despite having two buckets full of them standing on the kitchen counter waiting to be peeled.

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