King Lucien raised his head from his scroll and allowed himself to stare at the
woman who was asleep in his room.
The bed she laid in belonged to Melia. Ugly memories of the day of Melia’s death
rose in his mind, and he closed his eyes tight to stem those thoughts. But they
wouldn’t go.
Eighteen-year-old Melia, who had just married and was heavy with her first child,
happy that her husband allowed her to see her family for the first time since she got
married.
King Lucien could still remember the look of horror on her face when Cone’s men
stormed into the library where both were. He could remember the terror on her face
when they cut her open with a sword, and they took him away as he watched his sister
bleed to death.
King Lucien stopped writing and closed his eyes tightly to shut the memories
away. The beginning of hell.
Vetta sat in the wooden chair in her room, restless. The king gave her house arrest.
The more she thought about it, the harder it was for her to believe.
Freedom was the most important thing to a slave. The king knew that. Giving her
house arrest for three whole days showed how angry he was at her.
Vetta stood. She didn’t want things to be like this. She thought about going to the
king’s room. Who knew? A good blowjob might work well in her favor.
But the king was too angry, and it was too early. She had stayed just five hours in
her room, and already, she needed freedom. How would she survive a 72-hour house
arrest!?
A knock came on the door. “Mistress, your food has arrived.”
“Come in,” she ordered, going towards her bed, and lowering herself onto it.
The maid silently entered and served her food on the table. Vetta was curious to
know what was happening outside her room.
“The king’s slave… what’s going on with her?” she asked.
“Oh, I heard that Madam Baski and Sally just finished applying herbs on her. They
went into the woods hours ago to get the Albolko and other rare herbs, too.”
“And what about her? Is she conscious yet?”
“I don’t think so, Mistress.”
Pleasure washed over Vetta. She hoped the woman would die. No, on second
thought, she shouldn’t die now because the king would only hate Vetta for killing his
slave. No, there would be other opportunities for death. Now was just a time to make
her suffer.
The maid finished, came closer, and lowered her voice. “There’s a rumor going
around among the maids, servants and slaves, Mistress.”
That piqued Vetta’s interest. “What is that?”
The maid looked around carefully and whispered, “There’s a rumor that they took
the slave princess to the king’s room. That’s where she is.”
“What!?” Fiery anger washed through Vetta. “What did you just say!?”
The intensity of her anger surprised the maid and scared her. She drew back and
began backpedaling. “Well, I… it’s just a rumor, Mistress.”
“But is the slave still in her room?”
“The slave princess?”
Vetta hated that name. She didn’t enjoy hearing the word ‘princess’ attached to
Danika; it made her furious. She was a slave now, and a slave would always remain a
slave.
“Yes, Danika.” She spat the name with venom.
The maid shook her head. “No, she’s not in her room, Mistress.”
Could it be that the rumors were true? She couldn’t imagine the king giving such a
decree, but could it be true!?
Vetta dismissed the maid, still seething in rage. She would punish Danika because
she had the arrogance of sleeping in the king’s bed.
Could it truly be that her punishment had put the bitch even closer to the king’s
bed?
Vetta hoped this wasn’t true. She just hoped it wasn’t!
Hours later, King Lucien was sleeping when he heard whimpering and cries. He
took sleeping pills, but sleep was always far to come. And when it came, it didn’t
stay.
He knew it was the middle of the night when he woke. He stared down at his bed
to see where the cries were coming from. It was Danika.
Her eyes were still closed, but it was obvious she was having a terrible nightmare.
Not being a stranger to nightmares, King Lucien knew it must be because of the
events of the day knocking around her subconscious.
When Baski and the slave, Sally, came back from herb-hunting, they’d taken
Danika back to her room and applied the herbs. She was supposed to stay in her room,
but there was too much noise on the other side of the palace. Baski had implored him
to let Danika sleep in his chambers, and she’d promised to stay a room away so that
she’d be available if they needed her in the middle of the night.
King Lucien didn’t call her, though. Instead, he got out of bed and took a cup of
drinking water from his table. He climbed into Danika’s bed and raised her head up.
He pushed the cup to her mouth, but she whimpered, clamping her mouth shut.
“Open up, Danika,” he ordered roughly.
Her eyes slowly opened, and she gazed at him through dazed eyes. “My king.”
He stiffened. He was her master, not her king. Since the first day he corrected her
in the dungeon, she hadn’t called him the name again.
“My king,” she whispered again, her dazed eyes staring at his features.
“Drink up,” he said, pushing the cup towards her mouth.
“It’s not… poisoned?” she whispered, sweat forming on her forehead.
His brows furrowed. “Why would it be?”
“Because… you… h-hate… me… so much.”
“I’d never try to kill you through poisoning.”
Her head rolled to one side, and suddenly, she was lying in his arms. “I’ll take it…
because your… word… is… gold.”
Her mouth found the water, and she drank in large gulps, her hand tightening on
his robe. King Lucien didn’t like physical contact, but he allowed it.
He knew she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
When she was done, he withdrew the cup and tried to get up, but she clung to him,
her dazed eyes staring at his. “What is wrong with me?”
“You’re heavily sedated on pills and potions.”
“So cold.”
“You’re cold?” he asked with a furrowed brow, knowing that the room was not
cold at all.
“Your… eyes… they’re so cold,” she whispered drowsily.