Page 88 of Princess Redeemed

Fear and uncertainty dance like shadows in Rogan’s gaze, but beneath them is determination.Determination and love.

“What does this prophecy say?”I ask.

Alara closes her eyes and recites from memory.

“The one of royal blood shall rise,

To challenge fate with love’s sweet cries,

She’ll face the serpent in her lair,

And bear a child, her heart’s own heir.

The serpent’s venom seeks to sear,

But love unyielding conquers fear.

She casts her lot, her choice to fate,

And will, through love, unlatch the gate.”

My chest tightens.I glance at Rogan.His gaze is intense, his jaw clenched tight.

“The serpent… Eris,” I murmur.

Alara opens her eyes and nods.

“But Eris isn’t a serpent,” I say, more to myself than to either Alara or Rogan.“She’s a wolf.”

“So it appears,” Alara replies.

“So itappears?”I run my fingers over my abdomen, my child.

And then it hits me—hard—like a bolt of lightning searing through my skull.It slams into me with the force of a wrecking ball and knocks the breath from my lungs.My vision tunnels, my pulse roaring in my ears as the pieces snap together with terrifying clarity.

Eris was never just a wolf.Eris was never just Rogan’s fated mate.

This is all so much more than that.

There’s a reason Alara pushed me to awaken the power buried deep inside me.

I don’t need raw, earth-shattering power to rip a she-wolf apart for daring to challenge me, for daring to threaten my child.I only need the ruthless fury burning in my veins—because when it comes to my child and my mate, I won’t just win.

I’ll obliterate.

Which means…

“I see your thoughts churning, Hannah.”Alara closes her eyes once more.“Get dressed, both of you.And Hannah, it’s time to prepare for your battle.”She leaves the room, closing the door.

“What kind of doubletalk was that?”Rogan demands as he dresses.

The clothes I wore while training with Eris are dirty and sweaty, and I don’t exactly have chainmail lying around my place.

I walk to my closet and eye my wardrobe.I select a pair of thick leggings and a long-sleeved tunic that won’t hinder my movements.As I dress, Rogan watches me, his gaze intense.

“That’s a far cry from your usual tight tank and thigh-high boots, princess.”

I shrug as I pull my hair into a tight ponytail.“I’m not going for sexy.I’m going for functional.”