The words hit me like a physical blow, but not one that hurts. Instead, they fill me with a sense of importance, of value, that I've never experienced in my entire life. Not second-best Maya, not Sarah's little sister, but a queen. His queen.
"King?" I whisper, my mind reeling as I process this revelation. "You're actually..."
"The ruler of an entire Fae court," he confirms, his thumb stroking my cheek. "And you, my perfect goddess, are the woman I've chosen to rule beside me. Not just as my mate, but as my equal."
The magnitude of what he's telling me is overwhelming, but in the best possible way. All my life I've felt ordinary, expendable, like I had to fight for scraps of recognition. But lying here with his knot buried inside me, his glowing seed taking root in my womb, I finally understand what I truly am.
"I'm a queen," I breathe, the words feeling strange and wonderful on my tongue.
"You are," he confirms, and his voice carries absolute conviction. "My queen, my goddess, the most important person in my eight-hundred-year existence."
Tears prick my eyes, but they're tears of joy rather than sadness. For the first time in my life, I feel truly precious to someone. Not tolerated, not accepted out of obligation, but treasured beyond measure.
"I've never felt important before," I admit, my voice thick with emotion. "Never felt like I mattered to anyone."
"You matter to me more than my own life," he tells me with fierce intensity. "More than my kingdom, my court, everything I've built over centuries. You are the most valuable thing in my world."
His words heal wounds I didn't even know I carried. The pain of always being second choice, of never being quite enough—all of it melts away under the certainty in his voice.
"But why didn't you tell me before?" I ask, though I'm not angry. I'm too overwhelmed with happiness to feel anything but gratitude.
"Because I needed you to choose this for yourself," he explains, his cock pulsing inside me as if to emphasize his words. "Needed you to want to become my goddess because of who we are together, not because of titles or power."
I understand immediately. If he'd told me he was a king from the beginning, I might have been intimidated, might have felt like I had to prove myself worthy. Instead, he let me discover my own worth through our connection.
"And now?" I whisper, feeling more mature and confident than ever before.
"Now you know exactly what you are," he says with deep satisfaction. "Not a frightened human who stumbled into something beyond her understanding, but a goddess who chose to claim her throne. My queen, my equal, my perfect mate."
The transformation in how I see myself is as dramatic as the magical one my body underwent. I'm not the insecure girl who arrived at his academy weeks ago. I'm a woman who survived becoming a goddess, who earned the love of a king through her own strength and courage.
"I want to be worthy of it," I tell him, my voice steady with new determination. "Worthy of being your queen."
"You already are," he assures me, and something in his tone makes me believe it completely. "You proved that by surviving what killed seven others, by choosing love over fear, by becoming everything I never dared hope to find."
Even though we're still locked together, his knot keeping us intimately connected, I feel the emotional connection deepening beyond the physical. This isn't just breeding anymore—it's the joining of equals, of partners who've chosen each other completely.
"My king," I whisper, testing how the words feel. They feel right. They feel like coming home.
"My queen," he responds, and kisses me with a tenderness that makes my heart soar.
As we kiss, his hands begin to roam my body with reverent wonder, and I become aware that everything feels different. When his fingers thread through my hair, he groans with appreciation.
"Your hair," he breathes, lifting the strands to catch the light. "Look how it shines now, like spun silk and starlight. So thick and beautiful I could lose myself in it."
I touch my own hair, amazed at the lustrous weight of it. When I lift my hand, I notice my nails are different too—stronger, perfectly shaped, with a subtle glow.
"Even your nails are perfect now," Thorian murmurs, bringing my fingers to his lips to kiss each one. "Strong and luminous, like pearls carved for a goddess."
His hands move to my skin, stroking with obvious worship. "And this," he says reverently, his palms caressing my arms, my shoulders. "Softer than the finest silk, glowing like moonlight on water. I could spend hours just touching you."
I can feel the difference—my skin feels impossibly smooth and radiant, warm with an inner light that makes me feel beautiful in ways I never have before.
"You're magnificent," he breathes, his hands cupping my breasts. "Feel how full you've become, how perfect for nursing our children."
His touch is reverent as he explores the new weight and sensitivity of my breasts. The way he looks at me—like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen—makes me feel beautiful and powerful rather than self-conscious.
"And here," he says, his hands moving to my hips with obvious appreciation. "These beautiful curves, these wide hips designed to carry our babies safely. You're built like a fertility goddess should be."
