Those seven words were all it took for reality to come crashing down on Sara's head. She wanted to scream, wanted to throw a fit and demand answers. What the hell did he even mean?! The next mother of Tithia? That was not what he said when she was summoned!

Nothing came out even as she tried desperately to speak. It felt like a pile of bricks had been dropped on her chest. Her ears rang and her throat burned as the world spun around her. Not that any of it mattered to them, Father Gavric was already pulling her towards the table, towards the old man - the old man who was more than twice her age and who had a gold, jewel-encrusted crown on his balding head. King Henry, she thought numbly. Father Gavric was pulling her towards King Henry. The other man was younger, older then her by a good few years but still the closest in age. She looked at him, hoping he would see the desperation in her eyes. A silent plea for solidarity, if not help.

She was met with hatred, hatred so strong it choked her.

This isn't fair! She wanted to scream at him as she was pulled forward. I didn't do anything wrong! The only person she knew here, the person who told her she would be Tithia's hope, not its mother, had pushed her into the deep end and was expecting her to just swim. Yet this man - a prince, probably the prince of Tithia - looked at her as if she was the scum here. 

"Greet his Majesty," Father Gavric prompted, harsher than Sara had ever heard him. Ice shot down her spine as she realized what, exactly, her situation was. She was alone with three men, one who had lied to her, one who hated her, and one who was a king. Kings, kings could do anything they wanted. They could kill anyone they wanted to. No one could stop him, no one could stop any of these men. There was no one to save her if she offended them, especially the King, not with her highest-ranked ally suddenly proven unreliable.

Her meager survival instincts finally kicked in. Fight or flight - for her at least, those responses had always been nonexistent. Years of experience proved time and time again that if she wanted to live, she only had one option: Keep them happy. She grabbed her gown with trembling hands, curtsying like Celia had shown her. 

"Your Majesty," she said, hiding the quiver in her voice with honey. "Your Highness. This humble one greets you, and thanks you for the honor of dining together tonight." She kept her head bowed, even as she rose, waiting for the King to move first. She clasped her hands together, squeezing until her fingers turned white.

A chair scraped against the stone floor. "The honor is ours," King Henry said, holding out his gloved hand. Sara took it, trying not to cry as he pressed a kiss to it. It was nothing like Father Gavric's, who, while she hadn't enjoyed it, had the decency to keep it chaste. The old king kissed her hand with a wet, lingering mouth, sliding his open lips down her fingers as he pulled back. She wanted to peel the skin off. "Ivan," he suddenly snapped, and Sara barely had time to stop herself from flinching. He was still holding her hand, he would feel it. "Come and greet Lady Sara properly," he ordered.

The other man, Prince Ivan, did not stand. In fact, he didn't even push his chair back. He wheeled the stiff, wooden wheelchair he was in over, face blank as he took her un-kissed hand and pecked it. This wasn't about greeting her, she realized, watching the flash of satisfaction dance across the King's face as Prince Ivan pulled away. This was about humiliating his son, putting whatever disability he had on display for her like his wheelchair was something shameful. 

More pieces fell into place, and any hope "mother" had been a metaphor slipped further and further away.

"It's a pleasure," he said tightly, eyes locking on her necklace. His expression hardened. "I'm glad my mother's keepsakes suit your taste."

Sara was going to be sick. 

"Of course," she said instead, giving him a shallow curtsy. This wasn't my choice, she wanted to tell him. She buried it, pushing it under every wall she had. Feelings couldn't overwhelm her, not now. She forced her body to stay relaxed as the King drew her towards the table. He pulled her chair out, hands lingering even as she sat. Fingers brushed her bare nape, and she froze, silently begging for him to just stop.

"Lovely," he muttered, "A lovelier woman couldn't have been selected." 

Disgust ran through her. His fingers trailed lower, tracing her spine as she held back trembles. Her eyes burned, tears threatening to ruin her facade.

"Thank you, your Majesty," she said with a smile. Father Gavric and Prince Ivan settled across from them, the head priest choosing the spot closest to her. That bastard had the nerve to look smug - like he had done anything besides trick her. 

"The pleasure is mine." His hand came to rest on her thigh, squeezing it through her dress. "Father Gavric tells me you've agreed to help us. I couldn't be more thankful, truly." Hazel eyes flicked down to her breasts, just for a moment.

Keep it together, Sara told herself, keeping her own smile sweet. 

"I never could have said no," she said, twisting the truth into something he would like. "Everything I've seen here has been so wonderful, I can't imagine just sitting back and letting it break while I have the power to help." She pulled her face into something more bashful. "Though, I'm not quite sure what exactly you need me to do. Father Gavric - he's been so helpful, but he wanted to wait until you returned and could explain the situation fully before telling me anything beyond the basics." Take the bait. She needed more information, needed to be sure of what was going on before she could think of a way out of this.

King Henry nodded, and in a moment of pure luck removed his hand from her. She could have cried in relief. 

"Ah, of course I'll explain," he said, gesturing to the food in front of her. "Eat, lovely. This is a casual dinner and the food was made especially for you." Sara nodded, picking up her fork and fish knife. "Gavric, what have you told her?"

"Lady Sara has been informed that our magic is collapsing due to overuse and that we've been looking for a solution for years," Father Gavric spoke as if he was giving a report. "She is aware that she can stabilize it, and that she can reopen existing enchantments and direct ambient magic to revitalize them. She is exceptional, and has already demonstrated an innate inclination towards it, though she can't choose where to pull magic from." Hearing such glowing praise would normally make her happy, but it was all she could do not to glare at the man. Prince Ivan had no similar reservations, a nasty look flashing across his face. King Henry didn't notice, nodding along.

"Perfect, old friend." He looked at her, watching for a moment as she ate some of the herbal fish dish before speaking again. "As he said, magic is collapsing. It was minor things at first; fewer mages being born into the royal family, enchantments needing to be recarved more often. Water reserves drying and food stores spoiling as their enchantments faded. Then, 32 years ago, Tithia's oldest temple collapsed during my coming of age. The enchantments, despite being designed by my ancestor and tied to my own bloodline, had faded seemingly overnight.  It was then that I began to search for a cause in earnest." He paused, placing his hand back on her tight, much to Sara's dismay. 

"I'm ashamed to admit it, but all my attempts failed," he said, looking genuinely tired. "I married the greatest mage of our generation, yet our son was born without a spark of magic. I brought in artisans and teachers from the four corners of the kingdom, none could carve stable enchantments. Mages from all over came to the same conclusion: Tithia's magic had been spread too thin. Even back then, there was so little left to draw from, like a dried-up aquifer. It was only then, once I knew that truth, that I began to see success. Believe me, I am ashamed of the lows I stooped to, mingling with all manner of beasts to find any scrap of information. Yet still I only found three options."

"The first was unthinkable. Throwing away generations of hard work just to start over would devastate our economy, our way of life. Our history and arts would die out, leaving my dynasty to fade. But the other two option..." He laughed mirthlessly. "Either find beasts who could create their own magic and let it saturate the earth, or summon a person from beyond our world."  

Cold fear washed over Sara, gripping her heart as she remembered her earlier thoughts. 

Why would King Henry have a dragon in the castle? Why did the magic in this room feel like it wanted to escape? Why did it want everyone in this room to fucking burn!

"To take magic from a beast of that caliber requires time and skilled mages, resources we have so little of." He spoke as if he was angry, like he was the wronged party here. However, he softened as he turned to her. He reached out, petting her cheek. "You, however, are so much more. People from other worlds can move magic as easily as they breathe. With time and practice, your very presence will draw new magic to Tithia. And your line will do the same, each child will have the potential to be their own wellspring of fresh magic. With you at my side, with your children as my heirs, we could solve the shortage for years to come."

Sara couldn't breathe. 

It was insane. She could think of a thousand reasons his plan wouldn't work. Starting and ending with the fact that she didn't want to have his fucking kids!  He was a tyrant, one who was literally sitting on top of something that really fucking wanted him dead!

It clicked. 

Something inside the castle wanted King Henry dead. Whether it was a dragon or some other creature, it was right below her feet, and it was angry. She could still feel its magic demanding to be freed, for her to ignite it and let it burn. 

She had already broken some of the spells holding it once. She could do it again.

"I understand," she said, a genuine smile slipping onto her face. "From here on out, I'll do my best to help you." She meant every word, she only hoped the intended recipient could hear her through whatever binds they were trapped in. The hands on her cheek and thigh felt like a brand, one that steeled her resolve. 

"Wonderful," King Henry said, already leaning in,  "We can start right away."

Nope! 

"Wait!" She said, hands shooting between their lips in time to avoid the kiss. She didn't have to fake a blush. Her mind raced as she searched for any lie that would stop him, or even just give him pause. "I-It's just, there is one thing that we need to do before that."

"Anything," the King agreed readily.

"In the world I'm from," she said, turning away and playing up her embarrassment. She hid her face in her hands. "Relationships outside of marriage are forbidden. I'm sorry! I know how important this is. I-I just can't imagine so much as kissing you if we aren't married!" She lied through her teeth, begging that the horrible man would believe her. She needed time - a few weeks at least.

"We can be married within the hour," King Henry said, the hand on her thigh tightening. 

"Father." It was Prince Ivan who spoke. She peeked out between her fingers, meeting the Prince's gaze. For the first time all evening, it wasn't filled with hatred. Instead, there was a calculating edge, as if he was assessing her. "You've already secured her agreement. Allow her the dignity of a proper ceremony."

King Henry didn't speak. For a second, Sara was terrified he'd insist. Then, the hand on her thigh loosened, and the old man backed off. Sara thanked every god she knew, putting her hands back down.

"I will put together a planning committee," he said, "They will have everything ready by this time next month." 

Sara swallowed her relief. A month, she could work with that.