Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 57 : Madalynn‘s Son

Maeve- The Persephone

I climbed the stairs to the upper deck, wrapping a loosely woven shawl over my shoulders as I stepped

into the light of the moon. Una and her people had supplied us aplenty, ensuring we had food, tools,

and clothing for our journey.

Our journey through the Southern Pass.

I was thankful to have more feminine clothing to choose from now, soft silks and flowing fabrics that I

favored over the tight britches and poofy, oversized shirts worn by the crew.

But Troy was back in his usual garb, the white of his shirt glistening in the moonlight reflecting off the

water. He was sitting against a crate, his head bent over a large sketchbook and a pencil in his hand.

He looked up as I approached, a soft smile touching his lips. “I thought you were asleep?” he said as I

moved in on him.

“I wasn’t tired,” I said honestly, sitting down next to him and looking out over the deck. The sails were

tied in place, wrapped snuggling around the masts as the engines purred beneath us. The Persephone

was moving as silent as a ghost through the water, too far south to be picked up on the radars of other

ships in the Isles of Denali to the north. We were safe. For now.

I pulled my shawl tighter, slightly chilled by the soft breeze. It had been warm in our room, but the side

of the bed where I expected Troy to be sleeping was cold to the touch when I woke from a restless half-

slumber. We hadn’t had a single private moment together in the last twenty-four hours. Myla, Pete, and

I had reached the beach camp just as the skiffs were coming back to pick up the last of the tents. Troy

was already on board the Persephone, pouring over maps on the main deck with Keaton by his side,

the two of them trapped in a long, drawn-out conversation about the plan, whatever that would be.

Thad hoped he’d at least come to bed with me once the Persephone breached the southern channel

and we began to rock in open water. But he wasn’t there when! woke up

I bit my lip as I sat beside him, a question weighing heavily on my mind.

“Did Una tell you?” I breathed, nerves tightening my throat as I spoke.

“That you’re pregnant?” he replied, his voice steady and calm. “Yes, she… she did.” He was silent for

the space of a breath, looking over at me with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Troy!” I exclaimed, unable to stop myself. I had had a nagging, overwhelming sense that he

would be upset, maybe even angry at the news. He looked shocked though, setting his sketchbook

down and taking my hand, knitting his fingers in mine.

“Why the hell are you apologizing?”

“Because I know… I know this wasn’t what you wanted to happen!”

He gaped at me, his brows knitting into a confused frown. “Maeve-”

“You were never my breeder!”

“Well, uh. Obviously, I was.” He gave me a sly smile, rubbing the palm of my hand with his thumb. “We

weren’t doing much to… not get pregnant.”

I swallowed, surprised by his reaction. I remembered our conversation during our lakeside dinner in

Dianny, where the strange powers of the valley seemed to pull us together, making us less reserved

with our words. Four boys? He had repeated. His eyes had been full of happiness.

“It’s twins,” I said weakly, hoping I was interpreting his reaction to my pregnancy correctly.

“Oh, Goddess. What are we going to do?!” he laughed, eyes twinkling in the moonlight

“Are you happy?” | asked.

“I’m nervous, Maeve. If I’m being honest.” He swallowed, looking suddenly serious. “They technically

wouldn’t be… mine. That’s how this works.”

“No!” I gripped his hand. “No. That was different-”

“Are you sure? These kids are the heirs to Drogomor. Even if Aaron had actually

heen your breeder-”

“Drogomor is gone.”

“Maeve, I’m nothing. I tricked you, remember?”

“What do you mean you‘re nothing?”

He pulled his knees into his chest, letting go of my hand as he wrapped his arms around his legs.

“I didn’t have parents growing up, remember?” He paused, pursing his lips.

“What does that have to do with–”

“It would be better for them to be raised without me. I don’t know how to be a dad.” His words sliced

through the air, and my worst fear seemed to be coming true. He didn’t want this

“Troy, 1-” I felt like I was going to cry.

“It’s not that I don’t want them. I do. I just… they deserve more than I can give them. What am I,

Maeve? An orphan, a beach rat, a f*cking pirate. Some father, right-”

“Troy, please!” The emotion in my voice was too loud, too harsh to hide. He looked up at me, seeing

the fear and desperation behind my eyes.

“Oh, Goddess, Maeve. I didn’t mean I wouldn’t-” He reached out, pulling me to him, resting his chin on

the top of my head as I laid my head on his chest. We sat quietly for a moment, holding each other. “I

never knew my mother,” he said quietly.

“Is she the woman in your old sketchbook? The one you had to leave behind in Drogomor?”

“Yes. At least, I think so. It’s not even my memory, Maeve. It was my father’s description of her. He

said…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. “She died shortly after I was born. Executed, I believe.”

“Executed?” I said, shock evident in my voice.

“Yeah, uh, for war crimes.”

“By who?” I asked, but the answer was suddenly clear. I straightened up, looking

Tio Tov s eyes as the answer passed silently between us. “How do you not hate

me?

*it wasn’t your parents, not directly”

“But

I never knew the full story. I’ll never know, and I’m okay with that,” he said firmly.

“You’re Madalynn’s child?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. It must have been Madalynn. I had

only heard her name in passing once when I was eavesdropping on my parents as a child. It has been

said harshly, with disdain.

“I never knew her name, not until Romero said it. I thought he had been my paternal grandfather, but

he was her father.”

“And your dad? Who was he?”

Troy bit his lower lip.

“His name was Behar. I didn’t actually know his name until he dropped me off at Damian’s court when I

was four or five. Four, I believe. My last memory of him was.. |-” He exhaled, shaking his head, the

memory obviously troubling him. “I followed him back to the beach. I was crying for him. He kept

pushing me away. He ran from me, and I couldn’t keep up with him. I never saw him again, and I

couldn’t find my way back to Damian’s palace on Avondale. I just… wandered. I don’t have many

memories until I eventually joined Keaton’s group of street kids.”

The image he painted was one of the most painful things I had ever imagined, of him, more of a toddler

than a little boy, trying desperately to keep up with his father as his father was trying to abandon him. I

couldn’t bear it. Tears welled in my eyes as he continued.

“My memories before that are too fleeting and fragmented to remember fully. I remember a small house

near the beach. I remember being alone often. I remember a meal he used to make all the time,

homemade noodles with a red sauce made from the tomatoes he grew in the garden. I can still smell it.

But I don’t remember his voice anymore. I don’t remember his face.”

“Troy… I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, shaking the memory away. “I was fine. I

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“You were just a child, Troy!”

He looked at me, eyes full of unreadable emotions. He reached out and stroked my cheek, pressing his

forehead against mine so the tips of our noses were touching. “What kind of father could I be to these

kids, Maeve? How would I know-”

I took his face between my hands, kissing him. It was a long, easy kiss, something / had wanted to do

for a while. “We’ll be there for them, both of us. We have to.” | said, a silent plea trembling in my voice.

“Regardless of how we feel about each other.”

“How we feel about each other?” He pulled away, giving me a confused expression. “What do you

mean?”

“When you find your mate”

“My mate?” He laughed, throwing his head back. “Who do you think you are to me, Maeve?”

“1–”Tinhaled, steeling my expression. “Not your mate!”

“Why? Because of the curse? You really believe that still? Look at what you were able to do in the

circle of stones, Maeve. If you cursed from coming into your powers, I doubt you have been able to…

do whatever that was.”

I swallowed, considering.

“We are mates. I am certain,”

“Well, I’m not!” I said sharply. “And I refuse to hold you hostage, Troy. Despite how feel. Despite how

much I… how much-“| rose to my feet, my mind reeling. “I can do this myself. I just wanted to make

sure you knew. I wanted-I really wanted, but I can’t–“| stuttered, beginning to lose my grip.

It would kill me if I turned twenty-one and couldn’t feel him, feel the bond that was supposed to bind us

together, tether us for eternity. Because then I would know he belonged to someone else, and I couldn’t

live with the fact that he was now trapped with me, bound by nothing but a responsibility to our children.

He stood, clasping me by the upper arms and shaking me. “I love you, Maeve. I have

loved you since the very second I saw you, and nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me from

loving you until the day I die.” He placed his hand on my stomach, his fingers spread wide. I felt a ripple

of electricity pass between us as he looked up at me, desperate that I heed his words. “And I would lay

down my life for these kids. Our kids. I am their father, and I will never, ever let them forget it. I love you. I love-”

I kissed him, tears streaming down my face as he wrapped his arms around me.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words barely audible. But I had said them.

We stood in each other embrace beneath the stars, letting ourselves just… feel, for a moment.

Eventually, he pulled away, taking my hand as he led me to the railing to look out over the endless,

calm water.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Well, you’re not going to be working in the kitchen anymore. Just rest. We’ll need it.”

“For what? The babies aren’t due for months,”

“For the journey ahead, of course. In a lot of different ways.” He laughed quietly, his eyes moving

upward to the stars.

“How are we going to find the tomb without the map?” I asked, my hands resting on the railing.

Troy dug into his pocket, pulling out a compass. But it wasn’t his usual compass; this one was ancient,

and the brass was faded to a green patina. He held it out to me. I took it, opening it up and watching

the dial. It stayed in a locked course as ! moved it around. Strange, I thought; it must be broken.

D

“Una gave it to me. It was Lycaon’s, or so she says. We didn’t need the map after all. It was just one

piece of the puzzle.”

“This is getting super weird, right?” I said, having to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. We were

in a living, breathing odyssey, a fairytale brought to life against our will.

“It’ll get weirder, I’m sure,” he replied, taking back the compass as I handed it to him. “Una said

something else, Maeve. But I’m not sure what it means. Romero said the

same thing to me when I was in the castle.”

“Oh?”

“They said you’re the key.”

“The key to what?”

Troy bit the inside of his cheek, lost in momentary contemplation. “You’re the key to the tomb.”

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