Pregnant By The King

King Aziel of Zafara had been trained not to embarrass himself. Not in public. Not before foreign dignitaries. And certainly not in front of every noble family in the kingdom waiting to see which daughter he would choose as queen. At twenty-four, he had mastered every expression expected of a king. Calm. Commanding. Polite. Dangerous. Interested when necessary. Unimpressed when useful. Unfortunately, none of those expressions helped with boredom. Especially during the Grand Choosing. Especially while another noblewoman smiled at him like she’d spent six months practicing the exact angle of her head. Prince Malachi leaned closer. “If you look any less interested, Lady Zula’s father might start crying.” Aziel kept his gaze forward. “I am interested.” “You haven’t blinked in three minutes.” “I am listening.” “You are contemplating escape.” Aziel finally looked at him. Malachi grinned. “See? Escape.” The Grand Choosing had been planned for months. The kingdom’s most eligible women had traveled from every province. The council wanted a queen. The nobles wanted influence. The kingdom wanted an heir. Everyone wanted something from King Aziel. Everyone except him. Six years earlier, his father had stepped down after a devastating health scare. Aziel had inherited the crown at eighteen. Most expected him to fail. Instead, he transformed Zafara. Trade expanded. The economy strengthened. Foreign leaders sought alliances. His people loved him. None of that mattered now. According to royal law, before his twenty-fifth birthday, the king was required to choose a bride from noble blood. The council reminded him daily. Sometimes hourly. “Lady Zula remains the strongest candidate,” Councilor Damas whispered. Aziel closed his eyes briefly. “There it is.” “Pardon?” “You lasted seventeen minutes.” Damas frowned. “Your Majesty?” “Seventeen minutes without mentioning Lady Zula. A personal record.” Malachi nearly choked. Damas looked horrified. “This is a matter of national importance.” “Then perhaps mention someone else occasionally.” Below them, Lady Zula stepped forward in emerald silk. Beautiful. Elegant. Perfect. The kind of woman every king was expected to want. Aziel felt absolutely nothing. The music continued. Another candidate stepped forward. Then another. And another. Everything blurred together. Until a scream broke through the ceremony. A massive gold banner snapped loose above the courtyard. One cord broke. Then another. The heavy fabric sagged toward the women below. Attendants rushed forward. Musicians stopped playing. Noblewomen scattered. Councilor Damas stood abruptly. “Who secured that banner?” Then Aziel saw her. A young woman in a simple cream dress stepped from the servants’ line. No jewels. No royal silk. No noble title. Just determination. A measuring ribbon hung around her wrist. Her dark curls were pinned back carelessly. And she looked annoyed. As if the collapsing banner had personally inconvenienced her. She shoved a bundle of fabric into another servant’s arms. “Hold this.” The older woman grabbed her wrist. “Amara, don’t.” Amara. The name settled unexpectedly in Aziel’s mind. The young woman ignored the warning. She gathered her skirts and climbed onto the fountain. A collective gasp swept through the courtyard. Malachi sat forward immediately. “Oh, this should be entertaining.” “She’ll fall.” “Possibly.” “She shouldn’t be up there.” “But she is.” Amara stretched for the dangling cord. Missed. Tried again. The fountain edge was slick. Her sandal slipped. Aziel rose from his chair before realizing he’d moved. The entire courtyard froze. Amara caught herself against a stone column. For half a second, fear flashed across her face. Then irritation returned. She glared at the banner. “Oh, now you want to cooperate.” Malachi laughed. “I like her.” Aziel remained standing. His attention locked entirely on the woman balancing above the fountain. She finally secured the cord. Wrapped it around the column. Pulled it tight. The banner stopped falling. Cheers erupted from the attendants. Amara jumped back to the ground. Only then did she turn. And find herself staring directly at the king. The confidence vanished instantly. Panic replaced it. Real panic. The kind that suggested she had just realized several hundred important people had witnessed her climbing palace property. She bowed so quickly she nearly dropped her hairpins. “Your Majesty.” Aziel should have nodded. Instead he heard himself speak. “You fixed the banner.” Silence spread through the courtyard. Amara blinked. “Yes, Your Majesty.” “That was dangerous.” Her mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. “So was letting it fall on Lady Zula.” A strangled sound escaped Malachi. Several nobles looked horrified. Lady Zula herself looked offended. Amara froze. “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I meant respectfully.” For the first time all morning, Aziel nearly laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was honest. Nobody spoke honestly around kings. Everyone calculated. Everyone performed. Everyone wanted something. This woman looked like she’d accidentally spoken the truth and immediately regretted it. “You should go,” Aziel said. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Neither moved. Malachi buried his face in his hand. Finally, Amara grabbed the fabric bundle and hurried toward the servants’ corridor. Halfway there she stumbled over a ceremonial rug. Not enough to fall. Just enough to lose her balance. Aziel’s hand twitched instinctively. Malachi noticed. “Oh, you’re in trouble.” Aziel sat down. “I am not.” “You stood up for a servant.” “The banner was falling.” “You stood up for her.” The ceremony continued. Technically. But Aziel barely heard another word. His attention kept drifting toward the corridor where Amara had disappeared. When the final candidate finished her presentation, Councilor Damas rose. “The kingdom awaits your selection.” Every noble family leaned forward. Every camera focused on the king. Lady Zula smiled confidently. Aziel stood. The courtyard fell silent. “I thank every family represented here today.” Relieved smiles appeared across the council. “Your loyalty honors the crown.” Damas nodded approvingly. Then Aziel continued. “Which is why I will not make my choice today.” The silence shattered. Councilor Damas nearly fainted. “Your Majesty—” “Sit.” Damas sat immediately. Aziel looked across the courtyard. “I will not choose a queen because tradition demands speed. When I make my choice, it will be because I am certain.” Murmurs exploded throughout the gathering. He raised one hand. The noise stopped. “That is all.” Then he walked away. Behind him, the Grand Choosing dissolved into outrage. Malachi caught up in the corridor. “You either just saved yourself or destroyed your life.” Aziel kept walking. “Too early to tell.” “I’m serious.” “So am I.” Malachi’s expression became thoughtful. “The council noticed.” “Noticed what?” “The girl.” Aziel stopped. Malachi sighed. “Exactly.” A cold feeling settled in Aziel’s chest. Because Malachi was right. The council watched everything. If they suspected the king had delayed choosing a noble bride because of a servant… Amara would pay the price. “They will not bother her.” Malachi stared. There it was. The protective tone. The dangerous one. “You don’t even know her.” Aziel said nothing. Malachi rubbed his forehead. “Brother, wanting her isn’t the problem.” Aziel looked at him. “Then what is?” “Being king while wanting her.” Hours later, Aziel sat alone in his office. The city lights glittered beyond the palace windows. A stack of council complaints waited on his desk. He ignored every one of them. His thoughts kept returning to a woman in a cream dress. A knock sounded. “Enter.” Malachi stepped inside carrying a small card. Without speaking, he placed it on the desk. Aziel looked down. “What is this?” “The answer to the question you refused to ask.” Aziel picked it up. AMARA SAYE Palace Seamstress Assistant Age: Twenty-Two The name looked harmless. It wasn’t. Malachi watched him carefully. “If you keep looking at that card, I’m going to start praying for you.” Aziel ignored him. Because for the first time in years, something had captured his attention. And deep down, he already knew it was a mistake. The worst part? He wasn’t sure he cared. Across the palace, Amara sat on her bed trying unsuccessfully to forget the king. Her best friend Lina watched her struggle. “You talked to him.” “It was three sentences.” “He stood up when you almost fell.” Amara groaned. “Please stop.” “Oh, this is serious.” “It is not.” “It absolutely is.” Amara threw a pillow at her. Lina caught it easily. Then her smile faded. “What if he remembers you?” Amara’s stomach tightened. Because that was exactly what frightened her. Not that the king had noticed. But that he might not forget. Much later that night, Amara carried fresh linens through a quiet corridor. Most of the palace had gone to sleep. The halls were empty. Silent. Safe. Or so she thought. She rounded a corner and froze. King Aziel stood at the far end of the corridor. Alone. No council. No cameras. No crown. Just him. Her heart nearly stopped. He turned. Their eyes met. And then he smiled. Just slightly. “Miss Saye.” Oh no. Absolutely not. She bowed quickly. “Your Majesty.” He took a step closer. “I believe we have unfinished business.” Amara’s pulse thundered. Because kings were not supposed to seek out seamstresses. And if they did… Nothing good ever followed.