Five Predators and Their Last Doe by itsvlada
Five Predators and Their Last Doe
Description
Reyna grew up poor, hidden, and human - or so she thought. On her eighteenth birthday, she discovers she's the last living doe shifter on a continent ruled by five predator lords whose bloodlines are dying. They need her. Specifically, they need her womb. The deal: marry all five lords. Bear each of them an heir. Become the Crown Doe. The problem: every doe before her died after the second or third predator pregnancy. The child takes more than a doe's body can give. Five husbands who see her as a resource. A court that wants her dead. A rival who'll stop at nothing to destroy her. And a body with an expiration date she can't negotiate. Reyna has no army, no title, and no claws. But she knows poisons, she knows herbs, and she learns fast. If she can't outfight them, she'll outthink them before the very thing keeping her alive becomes what kills her.
Chapter 1
Aug 21, 2026
Reyna's POV
"You're not eating."
Briga's hands shake as she sets the plate down.
She's the closest thing I have to a mother. This old herbalist from the horse caste has been raising me since before I could walk.
Root mash with dried rosemary is my favorite. Or what passes for a favorite when your options are root mash, bark tea, and whatever the garden didn't kill this week.
She made it from our last three tubers. I watched her peel them. Her fingers trembled so bad she nicked herself twice.
Happy birthday to me, then.
"I'm eating," I say, and shove a spoonful into my mouth before she can argue.
It's always good when Briga makes it. I just wish I didn't know exactly how little we have left in the cellar.
She lowers herself onto the bench across from me. The pear tree above us creaks in the wind, and a few blossoms drift onto the table between us.
Our entire home is this tree with a hollowed trunk, mossy walls, and a root cellar Briga dug herself before her back gave out.
"So I've been thinking," I start, picking at a thread on my sleeve. Briga won't like what I'm about to say.
Now that I'm eighteen, I don't need her permission. But what if Briga changed her mind about me never leaving this place?
"No." Briga doesn't even look up. She's uncorking a small glass bottle with dark liquid. I've known its sharp herbal smell my whole life.
"You don't even know what I was going to say!"
"You were going to say you're old enough to go to the citadel." She slides the bottle toward me. "The answer is no. Now drink your tonic."
Well, at least I tried…
I wrap my fingers around the bottle and hold it up to the light. The potion is almost black today, thicker than usual.
Briga walks three hours each way to gather the herbs for this. Her knees swell for days after.
She tells me this tonic compensates for what our diet lacks. I've taken it every morning since I can remember.
And she never lets me come along to help collect the ingredients.
'The road is too dangerous for a defenseless girl like you, Reyna,' she always says.
"The citadel has work," I say, looking at her. "Kitchens, stables, something. We could actually eat properly for once."
Briga sets down her cup and folds her trembling hands on the table, which tells me she's ready to tell her favorite tale all over again.
The same spooky story I've been hearing since I was a little girl.
"Once there were five beasts," Briga says, "each so dangerous that the others had to sleep with one eye open. So they built a stone den together."
Her thumb traces a crack in the table.
"The Wolf sharpened his teeth into an army."
I've seen soldiers pass through the valley below our house. Even from a distance, the ground shook.
"The Dragon swallowed all the gold until no one could buy a meal without his permission."
That one I believe. Briga trades herbs for flour because coins stopped reaching the outer villages years ago.
"The Bear sat on the land and crushed anyone who tried to cross it. The Panther learned everyone's secrets and sold them back wrapped in silk."
She pauses. Her voice always drops right before this part.
"And the Serpent filled two cups — one with medicine, one with poison — and never told anyone which was which."
A chill crawls up my arms. I hate that it still works. That I'm eighteen and a bedtime story can still make me feel like a child hiding under a blanket.
I drop my knees and sit up straighter. "It's a story to make kids behave, Briga."
"Those five beasts have names." Briga's eyes pin me. "They sit on five thrones inside the citadel you're so eager to get into. They call themselves the Pentarchy, and every creature on this continent breathes because those five allow it."
Her hands are shaking again. They've been shaking more this year, worse on the days I push back. And she hasn't touched her own food.
"I'd be a kitchen girl, not a guest at their council table." I lean forward. "Just one day, Briga. I'd go in the morning and be back before dark. You wouldn't even have to worry."
She closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, they've gone soft. She gives me the look that says 'I love you but you're being stupid.'
"You think the Pentarchy notices only the important?" Her voice drops. "They took every last doe, Reyna. For centuries, the predator bloodlines were dying out because their purebred females couldn't carry healthy cubs anymore."
Briga shakes her head, lost in her memories.
I've heard this legend before. She tells it every time I mention the citadel, and every time my skin goes cold in the backs of my hands.
Doe-shifters could carry any predator's child, so the Pentarchy dragged them into the citadel like breeding stock and used them until their bodies gave out.
One after another, until there were none left.
My spoon stops halfway to my mouth.
Sometimes when Briga tells this part, I see a room with no windows and a girl my age, maybe smaller, whose next birth might be the last.
I have to swallow twice before my voice works.
"Deer are extinct, you said it yourself."
Briga nods. But her jaw is tight, and her eyes drop to the tonic bottle between us.
"And I'm not even a shifter, so what exactly am I supposed to be afraid of?"
I wait. Stupid of me, I know, but what if this time she actually answers?
"Drink." She taps the bottle in my hand.
I sigh and bring it to my lips. The smell alone is enough — bitter, earthy, sharp enough to sting my nostrils before the liquid even touches my mouth.
The sneeze rips through me before I can stop it. My fingers jolt and the bottle drops from my hand. Glass hits stone. The dark liquid pools between the cracks.
Briga stares at the mess. I stare at my own clumsy hands.
You absolute idiot. That's three hours of walking for Briga. That's her knees, her back, her shaking hands...
"I'll go get the herbs myself," I say, already standing. "Tell me where they grow. I'll run. I can be back before dark."
"Sit down, Reyna."
"Briga, please let me fix it."
"I'll manage." She's already pulling her cloak from the hook by the entrance, already wrapping her scarf around her neck.
Her fingers fumble with the clasp, and I watch her try three times before the metal catches. Three times on a clasp she's used for years.
She's getting worse every month, and you sit here completely useless.
"Please," I say. "Let me come with you at least."
"The route isn't safe for you. I'll be back by nightfall." Briga pulls the door open and stops. She turns back to me for a moment. "Happy eighteenth birthday, little one."
The door closes behind her.
I stand in the middle of our pear tree home, and the silence is so thick I can hear my own heartbeat. The empty plate, the broken bottle, the wet stain on the stone floor.
What if she falls? What if her knees lock up on the mountain path and she can't get back? What if this is the trip that ends her?
I've thought about the citadel since I was twelve.
Every traveler who came to Briga for remedies brought stories.
Massive walls, golden spires, markets where you could eat until your stomach hurt, women in silk who never worried about their next meal.
I memorized every detail. I know the forest paths better than Briga thinks I do. The sun is high. If I leave now, I can reach the outer walls and come back before sunset.
I just need to find food. Anything to bring back so she doesn't have to ration root mash for another month.
It's just a few hours. If I'm lucky, I'll be back before Briga is. She won't even know I left.
I grab my bag from the corner. It's threadbare and barely holds together. I sling it over my shoulder and push open the door.
The forest ahead swallows the sunlight. The path to the citadel heads east, past the stream, through the birch corridor, up the ridge.
Every traveler described it the same way. How hard can it be?
I take one more look at the house and close the door behind me.
Five Predators and Their Last Doe
12 Chapters
12
Contents
Save
Passion Exclusive
My Passion
Copyright © 2026 Passion
XOLY LIMITED, 400 S. 4th Street, Suite 500, Las Vegas, NV 89101