Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 15: A Worried Queen

Rosalie

“I’ll just put these away before I go for the day, Queen Rosalie,” said the pleasantly plump elderly woman as she sidestepped around the kitchen counter, a basket of laundry in her arms.

“Oh, don’t worry about that Gretchen, just leave the basket next to the stairs and I’ll do it later.”

Are you sure? I don’t mind,”

“It’s nothing, really! There’s much less laundry to put away now that the kids are gone.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat, giving her a forced smile. Gretchen gave me a sober smile of her own, her eyes misting with understanding.

“They always come back, my Queen. I promise, they do. Soon you’ll be overrun by grandkids, mark my words!” She walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, setting the laundry basket on the stairs before retrieving her coat. “I never did find Rowan’s flannel. Is he sure he didn’t leave it down by the water during one of his runs? With how high our tides have been lately…”

“Maeve took it with her,” I said with a little laugh. The flannel in question had been one of Ethan’s, the fabric worn out and softened with age and wear. Rowan claimed it one day, appalled that Ethan was wanting to throw it out, and he and his sister had been fighting over it ever since.

Gretchen gave me one of her signature wide mouth grins. “Ah, of course. She always has to have the last laugh, doesn’t she?” “Always,” I smiled, missing Maeve terribly. Gretchen took her leave as I picked up the basket and carried up the stairs, walking down the hallway to the bedroom I shared with Ethan.

He had designed this house from the floor to the ceiling. He knew the placement of every nail, the shade of every color of paint and exactly how many shingles lined the roof. We had raised our children here, being closer to the river than the royal palace quarters, yet safely tucked behind a security wall, it was a great place to raise a family.

Ethan and I loved our home by the water. Cooked dinners in the kitchen and spent evenings huddled around the hearth in the living room, Ethan’s voice lifted and animated as he read stories to Maeve and Rowan, their eyes dancing with delight.

It was everything I had ever wanted. It was a life that I, once the abused, humiliated daughter of a lowly Alpha, couldn’t have even dreamed of. Ethan and I had been through so much, endured the impossible. The idea of settling down and putting down roots had seemed like a distant, hazy dream.

Ethan turned that dream into our home.

I put the clothes away in the dresser, glancing through the bay windows as I shut the dresser door. I could see him sitting on the lower deck, lounging on one of the chairs with his ankles crossed and resting on a footrest.

I went to him, lingering for a moment in the hallway where Maeve and Rowan’s rooms sat across from each other, their doors slightly ajar.

Twenty-six years had passed since I first laid eyes on Ethan. Twenty-five years since we first held our son, the tie that bound us, in our arms. Twenty years since we first marveled at our daughter’s fine, newborn curls that were the color of the sunset.

The same sunset that cast the deck in golden-orange glow as I stepped outside, wrapping my arms around Ethan’s shoulder and resting my cheek on the top of my head.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Come sit with me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me into his lap. I sat down, leaning back against his chest and reaching up to run my fingers along the side of his face. Ethan had just started to gray, his dark hair now peppered with silver along his sideburns and beard. The beard was something that had happened inadvertently, the product of busyness and life with a child and newborn living in the house. An infant Maeve had screamed the day he finally shaved it off, refusing to make eye contact with the stranger who had replaced her father. He never shaved it fully again.

“What were you reading?” I asked, motioning toward the blue folder sitting on the side table. He reached for it, handing it to me.

“It’s Rowan’s, his blueprints for the radio towers,”

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11.

A

exclaimed, opening the folder and slowly flipping through the pages. “He has

tone heavy, “He

allow him to run with this now, won’t you?

that, Rosalie. Eugene…” He tapered off, resting his hands on my

marry one of

The younger one is spoken

setting it back down on the table.

he left. He left

is time for Rowan to find his mate, Ethan. You’re

I went about it that’s

deck and the village below, the metal roofs of the cabins reflecting in the blood-orange light of the sunset. This time of year the sun barely touched the horizon before lifting again, the sky a seemingly permanent violet blue. ‘Land of

I have let him go to University, in Mirage?”

I said, squeezing his hand. “And it’s not too late to give him your blessing. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do, as parents?

smirked, shaking his head. “No one taught us how to be parents, Rosalie. Only how NOT to be

right,” I said with a little laugh, relaxing into

was a good

though her distance was killing me. She was our baby, the child born out of love instead of

her power the world would never be the same. Winter Forest was

when I first found out what I called the “Grand Plan” to send Maeve away to join the Drogomor pack. As someone who had once been a breeder myself, the idea of my daughter meeting the

safe. Maeve would eventually rule alongside her cousin, Ernest, while they raised her child to be the heir of

had also been willing from the start. She seemed happy there, based on her previous letters, but

her in close to a month. Oh, how

Ethan said, as

I just doesn’t it strike you as strange that she hasn’t written? A month ago we were receiving entire bundles of letters. Now, nothing. Rowan, who

Ernest would fly here himself;

relinquished it, seeking greener pastures and a simpler life. He had been ready for the role, always a quiet, fiercely intelligent child who operated more like an adult than a little boy. That was why Ethan had passed him the title of King of Valoria for now, instead of retaining it for our own children, who simply weren’t ready for that sort of

passing of the title had been a permanent one, sealed by Maeve’s

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A Worried

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of age, but I never dwelled on it. I could see the look behind Ethan’s eyes when he looked at our son, the look that told me he was carving

I had been with Ethan for the majority of my life. The mention of Maeve and her lack

asked, knitting my fingers in his. “Yes.

“Promise me.”