Wrath of a King - FF Omegaverse Fantasy Romance, page 1
Wrath of a King
A/A Lesbian Omegaverse Fantasy Romance
by Lily X
lilyxbooks.com
A/B/O Universe / Alternate Universe / Monarchy
Female Alpha / Female Alpha / 18+ / First person POV
TW: G!P, borderline non-consensual sex
Never trust a friend... especially one that wants you dead.
Earth enchanter Olympia has a legacy to uphold. As the only Alpha heir of the Summerstream clan, she's been browbeaten all her life into accepting her place as a future leader.
To her people, Olympia could do no wrong. She's patient, protective and politically correct—the facade of the perfect future Queen. She's certainly incapable of ordering the cold-blooded murder of her former friend.
Fire sorcerer Zoei Highblade is feared and worshiped by her subjects in equal measure.
After years of strife between the royal clans of Summerstream and Highblade, a tremulous peace has descended upon the southernmost kingdoms of the Seventh Star—one that shatters upon the discovery of an earth enchanter assassin masquerading as a maid in Highblade Palace.
Zoei is hellbent on revenge. As the head of the Summerstream clan, Olly will pay—with her life. But Zoei must ignore the pull of nostalgic friendship, and the forbidden allure of the other Alpha's lips before she fries the life out of Olly’s treacherous bones.
Also available from Lily X
Published by Carina Press
New World: Stay with Me
New World: Made for Me
New World: Own Me
New World: Breathe with Me
New World: Safe with Me
Seventh Star Series (F/F Omegaverse)
Let Me Be Yours
Never Yours
I’m Yours (December 2023)
Forever Yours (coming soon)
Truly Yours (coming soon)
Copyright © 2023 Lily X
All rights reserved. No part of this novel may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission by the author, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Content Note
Please read with caution. This novel contains references to G!P (magic cock), borderline non-consensual sex between the MCs, and parental emotional manipulation.
Author’s Note
My first fantasy crush was Azula, Princess of the Fire Nation from Avatar: The Last Airbender. I was thirteen years old, sitting crisscross applesauce in front of the TV, chin in hand, watching her bend fire with a dreamy look in my eyes.
Each time she frowned in that uniquely gay way, I would sigh, wishing she were real.
It didn’t matter that she was the villain, or that she only existed in a cartoon, I was drawn to her strength and lust for power. Funnily enough, at that young age, I didn't know if I wanted to be her or be with her. And to this day, as a full-grown adult of thirty, I still can’t figure it out. All I know is that her propensity for violence and her drive to secure what is rightfully hers is a huge turn-on.
Wrath of a King came about because I was toying with the idea of paying homage to Azula. As a stubborn and violent character, she would need a level-headed counterpart who thrives on calm and stability, while being just as strong as she is.
Mulling these traits brought about temper-tantrum-fueled Zoei Highblade and peace-loving Olympia Summerstream—foil characters from opposing kingdoms who butt heads at first, but eventually bring out the best in one another.
Confession: this was meant to be a short story, but the muse took it another way.
Enjoy! And, as always, write to me if you loved the novel.
P.S. Azula can get it any day!
P.P.S. Check next page for shortcuts!
Shortcuts
*Since this book has a slow build at the start, I thought I’d provide important links for you thirsty bitches.
When they meet after twenty years apart: Chapter Four
When they first have sex (borderline non-consent): Chapter Twelve
Second sex scene (consensual): Chapter Seventeen
HEA: Chapter Twenty-Seven
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue I
Epilogue II
Epilogue III
Epilogue IV
Chapter One
Olympia
Hate is not a word in the Summerstream dictionary.
Mother’s hellish nagging words of wisdom resounded deafeningly in my head, shattering the peace of the early dawn. My fingers curled tight, creating little crescent-shaped moons in the cup of my palms.
The sharp pinch severed my concentration and the soft, floating lily pad under my bum wavered a little, dipping into the pond.
A large water stain traveled up my surcoat, tinting the cerulean silk a dark blackish-blue. I cursed softly under my breath, berating myself for the lapse as I sought the ebb and flow of the lily pad’s energy and gently tilted it up to the surface of the pond again.
But the damage had been done; my favorite surcoat drenched.
Perhaps it was a silly notion, but I likened the wetness to a crack in my armor—a little chink that negated the integrity of a stoic iron facade. The stain told the world that I was capable of making a mistake, and Summerstream queens weren’t allowed frivolous errors in the face of our court. Such was our burden—we were queens, not human, at least in the eyes of our people.
A slight throb began at the back of my head, and I wondered if one could experience the beginnings of a migraine even before the day had truly begun.
Surely not.
As quickly as it manifested, the meditative state I’d fought to protect floated away, buoyed on a cloud of restless thoughts and dampened skin.
The serenity of the grand gardens brought no relief. Not today, when the past and present seemed to come to a head with astonishing speed.
I had dreaded this day for weeks.
It felt as though my anxiety had grown and bloated, fed by memories and fears alike, until the infection slowly seeped into my blood instead of bursting forth and spilling a river of poison. But I was still here, still alive, and not quite ready to face what the day might bring.
At the crack of dawn, the gardens were my true sanctuary, devoid of people who demanded my time, energy and sometimes, a piece of my soul. The royal guards were stationed at the entrances and perimeters, within earshot but out of my way as they always seemed to be within the walls of the fortress.
Here, in the center of my Goddess’ creations, I could feel the throbbing, vibrant energy of all organic life forms, each one distinct and unique, yet coming together in a beautiful song that pulsed beneath my skin.
It was late autumn, although it hardly mattered. The Vetri mountainside only had two temperatures: cold or colder. The day was still moderately cool as the twin moons remained at the very edge of the horizon, ready to sink back to bed.
The sun, when it rose, would offer a heady flush of warmth, sufficient to nourish the life in the garden. But even with the sun’s best efforts, the mountainside wind would ensure an almost-uncomfortable degree of cold in the late autumn months.
The scent of heady blooms was rife in the air. Dragonbloom grew in thick profusion, the cool mountainside air encouraging their vined progress up lattice structures. The greenish-yellow flowers unfurled in reedy tendrils akin to the tails of their mythical namesakes, reaching towards the sun for nourishment. Their sweet, almost fruity scent, attracted insects and humans alike, perfuming the air with the promise of good weather and sunny skies.
Today, however, a pyre had been lit in the middle of the private grounds. Burnt ash had been rifled through by the fingers of the wind. I scented the remnants of singed dragonblooms and larkpeonies, sacrifices to the Goddess of all things good and natural. Someone had been here before me with prayers and offerings, disturbing the peace of my morning ritual. Ash and debris floated in the air, and I grit my teeth, tamping down on the irritation that sparked through my chest.
The disruption to my routine didn’t bode well.
Routine. It was my best friend and worst enemy. One single change in an otherwise uneventful day could throw me off course—push me off center. And the one person who loved to throw a wrench in my plans was mother. Sometimes I thought it tickled her to see me flail with each new challenge she pus
Summerstreams don’t wallow, they overcome, she always said.
Far be it for me to question her wisdom, although I had always wondered at her definition of the word.
Overcome seemed to have a different meaning to her, one that had been submerged in delusion. I envisioned mother with a large paintbrush, casting over a gray, sullen wall with harsh strokes of cheery yellow. It was exactly like my mother to brush over emotions that didn’t suit her—fear, sadness, weariness—with a fake and bright facade. I doubted she’d ever done the work to cross a very thorny emotional bridge.
I couldn’t be the first wallower of the Summerstream clan. Could I?
Breath gusted from my lungs, deep and long and filled with foreboding. It gave away every gloom-ridden thought that traipsed through my heart. Without looking in a mirror, I knew my perturbation was plastered on every inch of my face, turning my features into a transparent piece of parchment.
In my mind’s eye, I saw mother’s features twist into a disapproving frown—the slight tilt of her copper brows and the taut set of her lips. Nothing more than a brief look was necessary to tell me she was disappointed. It seemed, even in my subconscious, mother had an all-consuming power over my emotions, my life, my every thought.
Time and again, I had warned her that I wouldn’t be that type of Queen—the type that made revving speeches and rallied a Kingdom. Rather, I fancied myself the kind that kept our books in the green and negotiated trade treaties to ensure overflowing granaries. My contributions were much less flashy but they had merit… didn’t they?
I’d always assumed my life belonged to my people—an existence of magnanimity and devotion. Like all Summerstreams, I was born to serve the landlocked Kingdom of Vetri, and not one day had gone by without a reminder of my duty.
But the people, as it were, came second. Mother’s wishes always took first priority.
You’re just a good little Alpha, aren’t you?
The taunt made the muscles in my thighs twitch, ruining what little was left of the meditative space in my head.
I let the trapped breath fizzle between my lips, resigning myself to a false start to a beautiful Goddess-given day.
Large, beady eyes stared into my own as my eyelids parted. Touwi, a bullfrog the size of my palm, sat on the edge of the pond, watching me unblinkingly. As I called out a good morning, his eyes narrowed into slits as though challenging that sentiment.
With a swift leap, he lifted himself off the ground and smacked wetly onto the floating lily pad, crouched with his back to me as though he were a part of my royal guard.
I let a finger run down his soaked back, and he made a little noise that was a cross between a protest and a request for more. His aura was a healthy pink, and I knew my ministrations were welcome.
Unlike the dull noise of his ribbeting, his lifesong was melodic, melding beautifully with the garden’s symphony. The notes rose and dipped with each little froggy breath, and I found my own lungs filling and emptying at a slower rate to match his lifesong and cardiac rhythm.
All living, breathing beings had a lifesong that was unique to them. Like pheromones, this was not something that most could control, although I believed many wished they could. It was easy to gauge someone’s general mood by the rhythm of their lifesong alone. At the moment, Touwi was relaxed and receptive to my touch, awaiting a new day to unfold.
Sunlight bathed my skin, pouring through the glass roof and lighting up the pond water in a brilliant dance. I let my fingers dangle in the cool ripples, feeling the ebb and flow of nature’s energy as it traveled through each vein in my body. I was a conduit today, letting the Goddess’s intention guide me, filling my soul with gratitude.
The gardens had once been my great grandmother’s pride and joy. She’d been a naturopath and enchanter unlike Vetri had ever seen. With her powers and cunning wisdom, Queen Ada’s control over the kingdom had been absolute. She had won the vote of the feuding clans to the East and the farming people to the West, and it had been a time of peace and abundance.
Every detail and nuance of the gardens reminded me of her. Granted, she had only been alive for the first ten years of my life, but the sharp smell of citrus and the smoothness of the lily pad under my bottom were all remnants of her rule.
She had taught me that self-control and patience were virtues that made us Goddesses, and I endeavored to make her proud.
“Olympia.”
With a call of my name, scraps of serenity in the early dawn were shattered. Touwi fled the lily pad with a panicked leap, his aura shifting from pink to gray—a dismal, dreary color that reflected the shroud around my heart.
Mother had an alarming way of saying my name, the last syllable raised in a heart-skittering soprano. As a child, it had terrified me to no end. It implicated wrong-doing even if I hadn’t been up to mischief.
As an adult, I didn’t fare any better. A faint chill sluiced through my blood as mother rounded the corner, gliding past the dragonblooms with her loyal guards by her side. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could swear a few of the blooms shuddered and shook as she walked past. It was a distinct possibility—after all, mother’s earth enchantment powers were far stronger than mine. It made the air around her thrum with natural energy, invigorating all organic life.
Notes from her lifesong pelted my ears, the high pitch almost deafening. I forced myself to tune it out for some semblance of peace.
Oreani the Bold was dressed in a courtroom classic—a combination of long, wide-legged pants and a half-skirt drape that enabled easy movement. She was partial to shades of green that complemented her resplendent copper curls, and the sage silk she’d selected today brought out the peach tones in her cheeks.
To the outside world, it was clear that we shared blood and bone. The Summerstream traits were far more dominant than any other clan that dared mixed their blood with ours. All the queens before me bore red curls and peach-tinted complexions with a divot in their chins, and I was no exception.
But I only saw the differences. Mother was as overbearing in her personal relationships as she was in court, while I preferred to push the agenda with persistence rather than force. She considered that my weakness—but what she didn’t, couldn’t, understand was that there was more than one way to rule a kingdom, and if it was my fate to guide Vetri to the next century, I would do it my way, with grace and pride and just the right amount of bearing.
Jeweled accessories clinked as mother moved, notes of gold shimmering at her ears, neck, and waist. The looping belt bore our clan’s emblem, two curved leaves growing upward and outwards, connecting at the very tips to create an infinite circle. Although simple, our emblem told the story of wholeness, a joining of nature and divinity in our abundant lands. It was an embodiment of who we were as earth enchanters and naturopaths, channeling the powers of the Earth Goddess through our fingertips.
A similar gold emblem gleamed on my throat, just a fraction of the one mother wore. It had once been a large ring on my great grandmother’s middle finger, and she had bequeathed it to me upon her death. A talented goldsmith had carefully dismantled the ring to forge into a thin necklace instead. I touched the cool metal now, willing some strength from Queen Ada. The Goddess knew I’d need it for an early morning confrontation with my mother.
