Gena Showalter: The Pleasure Slave

"Life is good. Did I ever tell you that the Druinn High Priest predicted our firstborn would one day rule Imperia?"

"No." The thought pleased her, though. She, a formerly plain, shy woman, was about to give birth to a future king. "That is so cool."

"I can easily picture our boy sitting atop the royal throne. He will be known as a kind, giving king with a capacity for fairness that rivals even his mother's."

Except fifteen minutes later, Tristan welcomed his daughter into the world—a girl who would one day rule Imperia, he realized. How… astounding. Holding the beautiful squalling infant in her arms, Julia nuzzled the baby's neck, cooing soft words.

"Finally," she said, "a ruler of uncommon intelligence."

Tristan remained unmoving, shock still coursing through his blood.

"A female sovereign," he whispered.

Julia looked up at him through the spiky shield of her lashes.

"Are you disappointed that we didn't have a son?"

"Nay, sweet." He smiled down at her with all the love he felt shining in his eyes. "I have never been happier."