He woke to silk sheets that smelled of jasmine and old blood—his own, from a timeline where wife number seven had slit his throat during lovemaking.
Sera drew her sword. Lyra lit a flame in her palm. fourteenth fantasy : harem reborn
“Your Majesty? The council awaits. And…” A pause. A tremor he had never heard in this timeline before. “I remember the fire.” He woke to silk sheets that smelled of
A knock on the door. Soft. Familiar.
From the corridor, a third voice—sweet, terrible, the voice of the assassin who had killed him in timeline seven—called out: a third voice—sweet