Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 70: Chapter 70

Kayla’s POV
It wasn't like the routine still mattered. Ugh.
“You’re pouting,” Moira revealed.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, anyone could tell you don't want to be here.” She smiled. “You know it is easier to understand you now.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll talk once you're done, I’ll wait here.” She stopped by the front porch, her usual post here, and I nodded before making my way in. Just a few minutes and it’ll be over.
The scent of moonwort and steel always clung heavier in this wing of the palace. Even the walls seemed to breathe slower here…calmer. Well, that was to be expected since only Helene stays here.
I didn’t want to be here.
We hadn’t seen each other since the incident with Lance, when I’d bristled with frustration and venom that wasn’t hers to receive but still spilled over onto her anyway. I felt so stupid thinking about it now.
“You came,” she said gently and tapped a few notes onto her stone-glass tablet, the runes shifting across its surface in pale, silver light.
I pushed my thoughts away. “It’s not like I had a choice. Not coming would only make you come for me instead.”
A ghost of a smile. “I would have. I'm glad you chose to come.”
I didn't want to take long here, so we walked further in and I climbed onto the cushioned exam seat, stiff-backed and silent. It was muscle memory now—lie back, bare my arm, stare at the ceiling while the ritual began like always…blood drawn, pressure taken, a quick inspection of the last injection effect.
Hopefully, I'll be worthy.
The word scraped through my thoughts. I wasn’t sure if I still wanted this. Not like this. Not with everything else spiraling. But I didn’t say that out loud.
She watched me for a moment as she checked her tablet again. Her brow furrowed faintly.
“Is there a problem?” I asked, my voice drier than I expected.
“Oh, nothing.”
That didn’t exactly settle the storm brewing in my gut.
“You’re making a face.” I probably sounded like Moira now.
“It’s just…” She glanced at a separate vial, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Have you been experiencing any symptoms?”
“Symptoms?” I repeated.
“Yes. Changes. Longer hours of sleep. Nausea. Sensitivity to smell. Irritability?”
Was she joking?
“I mean... maybe,” I murmured. “I’ve been sleeping more. A bit off too,” I admitted. “Funny Lance called it compulsion—but I’ve been nauseous too. I threw up this morning.”
Her eyes lit, and she nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good.”
“Good?” I echoed, watching her. “How is vomiting in the morning good?”
She didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, she retrieved another diagnostic tool, a thin strip etched with gold-thread runes, and moved to the small testing basin near the window.
I waited.
And waited.
The seconds dragged.
Her silence was louder than anything.
Finally, she turned to me and pulled what I assume was meant to be a smile. “I believe you're pregnant.”
The world paused and my breath caught in my throat.
“I’m... what?”
“Pregnant, Kayla. You’re carrying a child.”
The words hit me like water poured over frozen skin. “No.” I shook my head slowly. “That’s not possible.”
“Why would it not be?” she asked gently.
Because I’ve spent months trying. Because it’s never worked. Because— I couldn't say them. Because it felt unreal. “No, I—” I sat forward. “You must have it wrong.”
“I tested three times. I’d test a fourth if I thought it would change the result. You’re pregnant, Kayla.”
The silence after that felt unreal.
I couldn’t even laugh. Couldn’t cry. I just… stared at her.
Pregnant. I was pregnant?
“No. That’s not...” I shook my head. “How long?”
She checked again, then replied: “Approximately two weeks.”
Two weeks.
The world blurred for a moment.
Because the only time—the only time—I’d had sex in the last two weeks was the night of the full moon, the night Lance took me in his beast form. The night I still feared and hoped never to experience. It had been…
I swallowed hard. That night had marked something inside me. I just hadn’t known it would literally mark me.
“That can’t be...” My voice broke, quiet and strained. Why should I be reminded of that night like this?
“Kayla,” she said gently, “is something wrong?”
I shook my head too fast. “No. No, I’m fine.”
But I was reeling.
I wasn't sure how to feel about the news anymore. I had spent days convincing myself that this dream, the one I’d buried in dirt and blood and heartbreak, wasn’t meant for me. That some women weren’t made for motherhood. That maybe I was one of them.
And now... this?
“Does anyone else know?” I asked quietly, clinging to the last shred of control I had left.
“I was going to inform His Majesty,” she said carefully. “As protocol requires.”
“No.” The word came fast and hard. “Please. Let me tell him.”
Dr. Helene raised a brow. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” My voice shook. “I know you answer to him. But this—this is mine. Let me give him the news.”
She studied me, long and slow. “Alright.”
I wasn't sure if she'd keep the promise, but I stood, legs like water.
“Come back tomorrow,” she said gently. “We’ll begin the monitoring cycle. You’re in the very early stages. But everything looks promising.”
I nodded. Or I thought I did.
I didn’t remember walking out the door. Didn’t remember how I got to the front porch of the palace. The sunlight hit me too sharply. It felt like a second slap after the first one inside.
“Kayla?”
I turned.
She was standing by the balustrade, arms crossed over her chest, a concerned look pinching her brow. “You’re pale,” she said, walking toward me. “Did something happen in there?”
I wanted to tell her. I really did. But the words clung to the back of my throat. This wasn’t something I could just spit out. Not yet. Not until I had a moment to breathe and feel.
I smiled. “Yes. Helene said I must’ve taken something I was allergic to.”
Moira blinked. She probably knew I lied because she didn't ask further. “I’ll check in with the kitchen later.”
“Thanks.”