Chapter 1: The King's Halfling Pet
Author note: Thank you for your interest in my story! This is the third book in this series. Please read The Reaper of the Crimson City and then The Lord of the Rogue Forest before continuing. This series is expected to be completed by the end of 2026, so follow for updates! You may also be interested in The Cost of His Power, a standalone, second-chance romantic fantasy. You can find all of my work on my page.
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Dahlia
The Circle was a wonderful place in the late summer. The mist that had been present in the late-Spring was gone, and the sun shone brightly on the city. People from all sorts of backgrounds meandered through the city to sell their wares, buy goods, and even just enjoy the beautiful weather.
On the streets near Harmon’s castle, a petite human woman walked door to door each morning to drop off the morning newspaper. At lunch time each day, carts lined the roads around the castle so those who worked nearby could purchase food. An hour or two later, a human man played his flute across the road from the castle’s main gate each day. And at four each afternoon, Imm children from a nearby school began to make their way home—chattering happily with one another as they walked.
Now that it was nearing dinnertime, the streets were filled with people making their way home to be with their families for the evening.
I envied these people.
I had spent several days on this bench by the window in my quarters within the castle, watching people live their lives. They were all free to wander the streets at will. I, on the other hand, was stuck in this room, day in and day out. I had been locked in here for weeks—allowed to leave only when the King wanted my company.
I was busy watching a hunched, old woman meander slowly down a busy street when a knock sounded at my door.
I said nothing. I didn’t even acknowledge the sound.
Only a handful of people were permitted to visit me—my presence here was a secret to all except Harmon's inner circle.
All of my visitors would enter my room, whether I gave them permission or not. So, it came as no surprise when the door opened. I glanced at it and saw Joel standing in the doorway, his expression grim.
He was always grim when he saw me. The man was conflicted between his role as prince and his instinct to protect me. Right now, the conflict was minimal. I was safe here in the castle, where he could perform his duties.
But I wasn't protected from everything.
If I was right about Joel, he cared deeply about me. If he couldn't put me before his father, I wasn't going to waste my time on him.
Before he could speak, I turned away and spoke in a dejected voice. “One of these days, you’ll believe me when I say I don’t want to see you.”
That was the truth. If he wasn't visiting to free me, he may as well not visit at all.
“When was the last time you slept?” Joel asked, ignoring my words as he approached me with silent footsteps.
“Last night.”
“For how long?” He spoke the words in a gentle voice as he sat on the bench beside me, and I turned to look into his beautiful blue eyes, feeling at ease in his presence despite my frustration with the man.
I shrugged. I had slept fine, but Joel didn’t need to know that. He was becoming annoyingly interested in my routines.
He reached out to gently rub a thumb over the dark circles under my eyes that probably had more to do with malnourishment than lack of sleep.
Despite how annoyed I was with the man, his touch eased the darkness swelling within me. I didn't dare push him away.
“Gage says you are hardly eating—well, not eating,” Joel’s voice was still gentle, but I could sense his unease.
He truly didn’t know how to help me, though the answer was right in front of him. He needed to fight for me—to fight for my freedom.
His head was stuck too far up his ass to see it.
“Who’s Gage?” I asked, ignoring Joel’s concern.
I would eat when the hunger finally became too difficult to ignore. Right now, the pangs of hunger in my belly were a reminder that, despite my imprisonment, I was still alive.
“Gage is the man who replaced Wes as my father’s aide last week.”
The look of concern on Joel's face became more serious as he realized I hadn't noticed the change.
I forced myself to look away.
It was true that I hadn’t even noticed that there was a new aide. In fact, I paid little attention to the men who entered my room. After weeks locked away in here—only allowed to leave at the King’s discretion—I didn’t care about much anymore.
I was simply biding my time—waiting for an opportunity to take some freedom back.
For the first week after my return from the Alve, I complained vigorously about my imprisonment to anyone who entered my room. When I realized they didn’t care about my complaints, I gave up the endeavor in the hopes that the King would grant me more freedom if I behaved. Apparently, it didn’t work that way. Three weeks later, I was still confined to my room.
But I could be patient. I was immortal, after all. I had all the time in the damned worlds to sit here and contemplate my existence—or lack of existence.
Realizing I wasn’t going to respond to him, Joel whispered, “Tell me how to help you, Dahlia. You’ve lost weight, and you won’t talk to anyone. I'm worried.”
“What’s the point when none of you will listen?”
My voice was calm—defeated.
“Let me try, Dahlia,” Joel continued, taking my hand into his and gripping it tightly, “Please let me help.”
The pain in his voice caught my attention. I looked up at him, noting how he struggled to control his emotions. Deciding to test the waters a little, I explained, “To start, I need to be allowed out of this room.”
“You are allowed—” he began.
I held up a hand to interrupt him and shook my head, “Being paraded around as your father’s Halfling pet doesn’t count, Joel. I’m a prisoner here—just as I was a prisoner in the Alve. I’m not stupid. I want to leave—to go outside, even. I want some freedom.”
Every few days, Harmon forced me to attend dinners, parties, or even simple meetings with him. He dressed me in beautiful gowns and jewels and acted as though I were his lover. Though he claimed otherwise, any fool could see he enjoyed flaunting me to his subjects, making the Imm men envious of him and the women jealous of me.
My hair was more than enough to attract attention from these people. More than once, strangers groped me, and women whispered threats and insults to me as I passed them.
I was like a doll—Harmon’s doll. He dressed me up and played with me when he was bored. Perhaps he was molding me into something he desired—perhaps to take on whatever role he had planned for me.
And he did have something planned for me. I just didn't know what it was, yet.
“I’ll speak with him again,” Joel promised with a sigh, “I swear this won’t last forever, Dahlia.”
He patted my shoulder gently, his eyes filled with sorrow. I almost felt bad for him. He was so blinded by his faith in his father that he continued to obey his orders even when he disagreed with them.
Right now, he was balancing his obligations, but at some point, Joel would have to decide between his father and me.
And I really hoped he picked me.
Joel cleared his throat, “Theo and the other Halflings keep asking about you. I told them you’re away—they’ve assumed we sent you home, and I let them believe that. I didn’t have a better explanation for your absence.”
“Well, I suppose being truthful to them would cause problems,” I snorted a laugh, “The last time a powerful Imm man locked me away, they didn’t take it well, you know.”
“Wait!” I snapped my fingers as if remembering something important, my voice thick with sarcasm, “You were there—you know exactly what I mean! Remember? The battle in the Alve? You helped save me from the High Lord!”
I saw Joel clench his hands into fists out of the corner of my eye. Apparently, he didn't like my sarcasm.
When he finally relaxed, he said only, “Your father knows you are here. He has also been asking about you.”
Shit. I definitely didn’t want to see him.
Before I could respond, a knock sounded at the door that linked my room to Harmon’s chambers—the door he could walk through at any moment. He’d moved me in here as soon as I had returned to the Circle. Sure, the room was luxurious beyond any I’d had before, but it was still just a pretty prison.
The bed was lush, the closets were filled with the best clothes in all the worlds, the bathtub was big enough to fit two grown Imms, and I had all the books I could ever want lining the shelves along the walls.
But I wasn't foolish enough to believe this was anything but a prison.
Joel stood to answer the door, but moments later, Harmon strode in carrying two small wooden boxes. He passed me to set the boxes on my bed and grinned as he announced, “I am entertaining guests in an hour, Halfling. I expect you to be dressed and ready in half that time.”
I eyed the boxes with disdain—my love of gifts had faded after my time in the Alve and then after receiving so many "gifts" from the King since then.
Tonight, I wanted to refuse to cooperate with the King's plans, but I didn't have the right to do so. As part of my contract with the man, I was required to obey him.
The last time I refused to comply with Harmon’s demands, he threatened Ozias. The time before that, he threatened to send the seamstresses back to the Alve one by one, unprotected. And every time, he threatened to undo the progress he’d made at protecting the Red—something I would never risk.
So I complied, even when I wanted nothing more than to fight back.
I gritted my teeth but only nodded as a look of confusion crossed Joel’s face, and he asked, “What guests?”
“I invited our family here for a…reunion, of sorts.”
Joel ran a hand through his hair nervously as he glanced at me. Something about his reaction to the King’s revelation annoyed me. This wasn't new. I'd gone to about a dozen parties since I returned to the Circle. And though Joel hated his father’s behavior towards me at these parties, he did nothing to intervene.
This time, I knew what Harmon was planning.
He was still trying to pair me with one of his heirs. He was so certain it was what Redmond predicted, and I suspected he would go to great lengths to ensure I ended up under his control—permanently. The King wasn’t wrong to believe I'd become connected to one of his heirs, given what I believed about his relation to Hawthorne, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
Without a word, I left the men to wait for me and walked across the room to the washroom to get myself ready. I collected the boxes on the bed as I went, knowing the King had likely picked out another beautiful and sensual dress for me to wear—a dress that left little to the imagination when his subjects admired me.
I couldn't stand their scrutiny. It was disgusting.
As I readied myself, I could hear the men arguing in low whispers in the other room. I couldn’t make out their words, but I didn’t have much interest in knowing what they were discussing.
I ignored them as I brushed my waist-length hair out until it hung in neat waves. Though I wanted to cut it, Harmon disagreed—likely because he enjoyed grabbing it. I added thick, black lines around my eyes with a sticky ink Imm women often wore, and painted my lips a deep red that reminded me of blood—again, this was all for Harmon.
This was all to transform me into something he might desire—something his subjects might desire.
When I pulled on the emerald-colored dress, I ignored the unease I felt at the sight of it on me. It reached the floor, but the long slits up the sides of the skirt revealed my bare thighs all the way to my hips. The dress was tied at my neck, so it didn’t cover my back and even revealed the sides of my breasts.
I loathed this dress, but I wouldn’t let myself be humiliated. I would never show these men my discomfort.
I slipped on a pair of silvery shoes, and when I returned to my bedroom, Harmon and Joel both looked up expectantly. Joel clenched his jaw with frustration at the sight of my new dress, but Harmon closed the distance between us and circled me like a predator sizing up his prey.
He ran his fingers over the bare skin on my back, making my stomach roil with disgust as he murmured, “Yes. This is perfect, Halfling.”
He brushed my hair aside as he placed a black, leather strap around my neck. As he worked the clasp behind me, I brought my hand up to where a large gem dangled from the front of it.
The necklace reminded me of a collar—something Harmon probably intended. Again, I was his little pet. To outsiders, I was a loyal and devoted Halfling woman that Harmon enjoyed keeping around for his pleasure.
I kept my eyes on Joel as Harmon adjusted the collar, and I noticed the man seemed to be holding his breath as though the sight of his father's hands on me enraged him.
But still, he did nothing to stop it.
This was not surprising. After weeks of this, he hadn’t dared intervene. Sure, he acted as though he wanted to help me, but as time passed, I grew less and less convinced of his role as my protector.
I needed a protector who would step up to defend me—not ignore my mistreatment.
I closed my eyes and reminded myself, once again, that I could never truly trust these Imms—even the ones connected to me by fate.
I was on my own.
