Page 84 of Pregnant With Their Babes

“Agreed. And three?”

King Claus turned to eye Llyr again, a smile on his lips. “Prince Llyr agrees to the troth between him and the Prince of Atlantia.”

Llyr cringed. Could he not get away from the little tyrant?

“What say you, brother?” Amyr asked Llyr.

“If it brings peace between our nations, I suppose… I cannot… say no,” Llyr said between clenched teeth.

“Wonderful,” King Claus murmured. “We need to sign the accord soon. I wish to see my nephew as soon as possible. While we’re on the surface, we can have him sign the troth.”

Llyr did a double take. “What? Why would Oz… sign the troth?”

“You committed to marrying the Prince of Atlantia,” King Claus murmured.

“Which is Prince Alphonse,” Llyr replied.

“Deandra was my sister. That makes Oz a Prince of Atlantia.” King Claus tilted his head. “Youdidsay he was your mate… and you’d already bedded him. While in heat. You could even now be pregnant with anewprince of Atlantia, or so you said. Is all you told me true?”

“Yes.” Tears burned Llyr’s eyes. “But wecannotwed. No matter how much I wish we could.” A sob rose up Llyr’s throat. “Iverymuch wish it were possible.” He held back from sharing his last secret. If they knew he was already pregnant, they might kill him and his pups.

King Claus frowned. “Why can you not wed my nephew?”

“The prophecy,” Amyr said. “A half merman and a dark man of magic—thoseare your mates?”

Llyr nodded, tears slipping down his face. “Oz is Deandra’s son to a human king. Dagr was born of a witch mother.”

“The third omega son of a demented monarch.” King Claus spun to eye Llyr. “You are marked by the stain of a shell?”

Llyr showed the king his birthmark. “You’re familiar with the prophecy?”

“Oh yes,” the king said, smiling wider. “Yes, indeed.”

How could that be a moment of happiness? To know there was a threat to their world?

Llyr could only frown, confused.

14

Two weeks later…

Shadowed by the night, Oz leaned on the balustrade above the castle’s grand entrance. He watched the parade below. A bevy of partygoers exited their lavish carriages while liveried footmen rushed to open doors and extend hands to their haughty passengers dressed in more silk and taffeta than should have been allowed by law. Décolletages plunged precariously low in their attempts to show their wares.

Wares Oz had no interest in viewing.

Once he entered the ballroom, their searching gazes and whispering gossip would swelter around him until he struggled to breathe…

Bodies crushed into the large ballroom, packed so tight the heat would send him screaming for the gardens where he’d end up interrupting the secret affairs of more than one, he was sure.

He wished he could avoid it altogether. After months of searching for a prophecy that didn’t appear to exist above the waves, he’d been unable to stop his father’s planning and plotting. There was no one in the kingdom or outside of it that could transcribe the ancient text Dagr had found—and it had been their lone clue. Oz would be married off to one of the plump, pampered princesses being paraded through the entrance below if his father had anything to say about it. While women didn’t particularly offend him, it was thetypeof woman he would encounter that night, a veritable who’s who of the region’s overindulged aristocracy.

A breeze came off the coast, bringing with it the scent of salt and sea. Oz inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs. It reminded him of all he’d lost.

Two loves slipping through his fingers.

“Thereyou are,” a voice came from the open doors of Oz’s rooms.

Oz turned from the display below to see Dagr strolling through the shadows. He gave the man a faint smile, but remained silent.

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