"That's... weird."
"It's unheard of." I lean back, studying the readings that track Maya's responses. "The others needed weeks of conditioning before they could handle basic fertility magic. Maya's already channeling power levels that killed Isabella within days."
Isabella. The seventh candidate, a brilliant Fae botanist with centuries of fertility magic experience. She lasted longer than most—nearly six weeks before the magical overload stopped her heart.
"Perhaps we should accelerate the progression," Elvinia suggests thoughtfully. "Her rapid adaptation suggests she can handle more intensive conditioning. Why waste time with gradual approaches when she's clearly built for this?"
"Because pushing too fast killed the others." The words come out sharper than intended. "Seven Fae women, all stronger than any human, and they still died within weeks."
"Exactly my point," she says calmly. "The Fae candidates were stronger physically, but they lacked the desperate emotional hunger that drives this human. Their pride, their sense of equality with you—it worked against the transformation. They couldn't achieve the complete submission the magic requires."
She nods, understanding the pressure that drives every decision. "And Maya herself? How is she handling the process?"
"Beautifully." The admission slips out before I can stop it, carrying more heat than appropriate for a clinical assessment. "She responds to every session like she was made for this work."
"You're becoming attached."
It's not a question. Elvinia has known me for three centuries; she recognizes the signs of an alpha fixating on particularly promising breeding stock.
"She's... different from the others." I stand, pacing to the window where Maya's quarters glow softly in the distance. "The previous candidates were selected for their magicalcompatibility, their potential for surviving the transformation. Maya was chosen for those reasons, but there's something else. Something that makes her..."
"Perfect breeding material," Elvinia supplies pragmatically. "Young, virgin, desperate for validation. Exactly what the old texts describe for optimal goddess transformation."
"Exactly." The word carries satisfaction I don't bother hiding. "Her responses aren't just biological. When I praise her work, she practically glows. When I touch her during the magical readings, she leans into contact like she's been starved for it her entire life."
"Good. Emotional dependency will help her survive what's coming." Elvinia's tone is matter-of-fact, discussing Maya's psychological manipulation like any other necessary prep work. "Though I have to ask—why not simply take her the old way? Before the Sundering, we didn't need elaborate transformations. Capture, claim, breed. Much simpler."
"The old ways don't work anymore," I say grimly. "After the Sundering, simple breeding produces weak offspring who can't channel enough power to fix the court. We need a goddess-level transformation to restore what was lost."
"Shame," Elvinia muses. "It would certainly be easier to just chain her up and breed her until she produces what we need. Less chance of losing her to magical overload."
The casual cruelty in her tone doesn't shock me—it's pure Fae thinking about human resources. But something in me recoils at the image of Maya reduced to breeding stock, chained and helpless.
"The transformation is necessary," I say firmly. "And Maya will survive it."
"Because you want her to, or because the evidence supports optimism?"
"Both," I admit. "She's strong enough to survive what the others couldn't. Her virgin body gives her advantages they lacked. Her desperate hunger to be valued will carry her through transformation that pure strength couldn't handle."
"And if she doesn't make it?"
The question hangs between us like a blade. "Then we find another candidate and try again. But Maya will be the one. I can feel it."
Elvinia studies my face for a long moment. "Your certainty has nothing to do with magical readings and everything to do with the way she melts when you pay attention to her."
"Does it matter? If my... interest in her creates the emotional bond necessary for transformation, then personal attachment serves the court's needs."
"True." She nods approvingly. "The old texts always emphasized the importance of the alpha's possessive connection to his chosen goddess. Perhaps your growing obsession is exactly what will make her succeed where the others failed."
Elvinia is quiet for a long moment, studying my face in the lamplight. "What does your heart tell you about her chances?"
"That she's strong enough to survive what the others couldn't. That her virgin biology gives her advantages they lacked. That her desperate hunger to be valued will carry her through transformation that pure strength couldn't endure." I turn from the window, meeting her ancient eyes. "And that I'm a fool for believing hope over evidence."
"Perhaps," she says gently. "Or perhaps you're finally learning to trust something beyond calculation and duty."
"Trust doesn't keep people alive, Elvinia. Power does. Preparation does. Cold assessment of risks and benefits." I gesture toward the memorial garden. "Trust is what killed them."
"The transformation requires more than magical compatibility, Thorian. It needs an alpha's complete possession of his chosen goddess. The others were selected clinically, prepared professionally, approached like research subjects to be optimized."
