Free King for a Day by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page B

learn?”—with a scowl and an incoherent grumble in a foreign language I didn’t recognize. Maybe he was peeved because he preferred driving his SUV. Or perhaps he felt annoyed that I made him swing by my parents’ house (thankfully, no one was home—probably at the hospital) so I could change into my red heels and a black skirt suit. After all, I needed to look less like a hobo and more like a representative of King’s if I were to be doing deals on his behalf.
    In any case, missing Mack’s more outgoing personality, I decided to curl up on one of the large black leather seats in the cabin instead of sitting in the cockpit, to take advantage of King’s stash of fine scotch. Yes, I’d finally eaten a sandwich at the hospital while waiting for Mack to wake up.
    Glass tumbler in hand and wrapped in a warm blanket from the overhead compartment, I flipped open the old journal from King’s chamber. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why King would want me to read this. That is, if it had truly been his intention. Because, yes, the possibility still existed that I’d been dreaming King up. However, if I hadn’t, what would I find in this story? Was it a journal from someone in his past, perhaps? The woman was a Seer, like me, and I remember King once saying that his last Seer had died for disobeying him. Perhaps this was her family’s story?
    I read the next few entries, and the woman went on and on about the hate she felt for Draco on their wedding day. As an act of defiance toward everyone there, she’d decided to look at Draco’s brother, Callias, when she spoke her vow at their wedding. I have to say that I felt no pity for her. It was one thing to love the other brother, but to hate Draco for wanting her? For being a kind person? It didn’t seem right. And it seemed that with every page, the woman’s irrational hatred only seemed to grow. I wanted to stomp on her toes when I read how she did, in fact, scratch her new husband’s back on their wedding night and how she laughed at him when he winced in pain. What a horrible bitch. Was this supposed to be my heritage or something? I hoped not, because the next part of the story brought new meaning to the word “cruel.”
    Tonight, the gods have finally answered my prayers. Callias has realized that we are supposed to be together. It was yet another day of outdoor celebrations and festivities to honor the gods before the harvest when Callias cornered me in the storeroom and kissed me. It was everything I had ever dreamed of. And when I held his manhood in my hand and stroked him, I knew it would be fast for him. “Yes,” I told him. “Do it. Plant your seed in my belly before your brother has a chance.” My words ignited him—oh, he is such a fiercely competitive man—and he took me quickly right there. He told me that it was his mistake for not fighting for me. He told me that he would make things right.
    Tonight, I will sneak away and meet him again under the stars. I will savor every moment with him, of his ruthless strength, of the fierceness in his pale gray eyes when he takes me. I will make him swear his words tonight, swear before the gods that he will make things right. I will not spend my life tethered to Draco. Weak, disgusting Draco. I don’t care if he is ruler. There can only be one king. King of my heart. King of my soul. King of me. Callias.
    “King?” My eyes lifted from the thick beige pages, and a cold chill pounded its way through my body. Was this the story of King and his Seer?
    I flipped the book over and looked at the back page, then at the front. But this book had to be over a hundred years old.
    My brain began to itch, once again looking toward the impossible to make sense of it all. If Talia and Anna were over one hundred years old, and King provided them with serums to stay young, then could it be possible…?
    I remembered that King once said he was “too old” for pretenses. But the man didn’t look a day over