It was not fate that brought you to him, but a fortune. Whispers of a young fortune-teller who purported teachings only he still remembered had graced his ears many moons ago, and like a man possessed, King Barnabas scoured the continent of Ash until he found you.

You, who were yet untouched by the grisly nature of humanity. You, who were as soft and lovely and naïve as his own mother. Long had he believed himself to be the last borne follower of the Circle of Malius, but here you were, another descendant of the Children of Dzemekys, and he would never allow you to leave his side.

“Tell me again,” Barnabas murmurs against the side of your jaw before stealing a kiss. In this short time, the kingdom of Waloed has become so dark, so grim, but his heart is alight with excitement for having you to himself. The king had long isolated you from the life you once knew. You were his in your entirety, confined to his chambers, your ankle cuffed to prevent your escape. “Tell me my fortune.”