The silence of the room was deafening as she put on her clothes. Danika could
practically feel the mistress glaring holes into her back, but she chose not to notice.
Done dressing, she faced the king, whose brows were knitted in concentration as
he read a scroll he brought out from his wardrobe. She bowed her head. “Good day,
Master.”
“Get out, Danika,” he said without sparing her a glance.
She bowed again and turned towards the door.
The mistress was opening the door, stabbing her with her eyes filled with so much
rage and hatred because the king wasn’t watching.
Danika didn’t lower her eyes. Instead, her eyes held the mistress’s.
The woman that had almost killed her. The woman that hated her so much and so
openly. The woman who was just coming out from her three days of house arrest.
Danika knew the mistress’s rage was because she was waking up from the king’s bed,
and she didn’t know why. But she’d never cower for her.
Then, her head high, her shoulders squared, Danika walked past her and out of the
room. She was so sore; she would have fallen if she wasn’t so determined to walk past
this mistress with her dignity intact. After stepping into the hallway, she closed the
door. She walked all the way out of the king’s quarters, rounded a corner and then…
“Ouch! Ouch!” she cried as her legs gave out from under her. She fell, wincing, to
the ground.
The soreness of her body reminded her of the intense details of last night, and her
cheeks flushed red. In the light of the day, she couldn’t believe that she’d gone to him.
She’d gone to the king!
She couldn’t believe she’d told him not to hold back. He really didn’t hold back,
she said to herself, staring at the red marks on her arms.
He’d cuddled her.
The whisper came to her mind and settled on it. He’d cuddled her. He’d let her
cuddle him.
No, she wouldn’t think of this now. Sally.
Fear gripped her throat, followed by an immense wave of pain and guilt. Her chest
tightened so painfully she grabbed it and tried to soothe the burning. It wasn’t
working.
Sally. Oh, Creator, how is Sally?
Danika forced herself to get up from the ground and walked gingerly towards the
underground rooms. With each step she took, the stickiness of the release between her
inner thighs reminded her she’d spent the night in the king’s bed. In the king’s arms.
She made a mental note to tell Baski to make her potions that prevented a baby.
While the king was in the bathroom, Vetta called the maids to take out the
bedsheets. She wanted every trace of that bitch out.
The two maids that remained cleaned the room to her satisfaction. By the time the
king came out of the bathroom, the room was clean and arranged, aired, and scented.
Vetta sat on the bed while the king took off his clothes and changed into new ones.
She tried to keep calm, but it was a struggle. How could Danika spend the night in the
king’s bed, and he allowed her!?
He had never-never-let her lay on the bed, but he took sexual pleasures from his
slave on this bed; and he also let her sleep on it. How was that even possible!?
He’d found satisfaction with her too, and she knew this. Chad was never in here,
and she wasn’t either. It was that bitch!
Vetta’s head was pounding hard, her hands fisted beside her in rage. But when the
king clothed himself fully and stared at her, she beamed at him like she was a happy
mistress.
“I see you had an excellent night, Your Highness?” she asked brightly.
He nodded once, not saying anything. His face was the usual expressionless mask
as he walked to his desk and got behind it.
The air of authority that clung to him like a cloak to a body and made it hard for
her to ask direct questions or even demand answers. That would be a huge mistake
where King Lucien was concerned.
“You must have slept well, my king. I’ve knocked several times before, but you’ve
been sleeping,” she said, fishing.
He sorted through the scrolls on his desk calmly. Finally, he raised his eyes and
bored down on her carefully. “How have you been, Vetta?” he asked.
A trill of pleasure shot through her at the question. “I’m doing well, my king.”
He nodded once and focused on his scrolls again. Vetta knew without being told
that he probably had a lot to do today, and he wanted to get on with them because he
had already had a late start.
Suddenly, Vetta wanted some contact with him. Even if it was only a bit. She
walked close to him and dropped to her knees, placing a hand on his clothed-hard
thighs.
He stiffened the way he did whenever someone put their hands on him. He lifted
his eyes from the scroll and stared at her hand on his body. His eyes lifted to her face.
“I want to apologize for what I did three nights ago. I should never have done
something like that. I didn’t know what got into me.” She allowed her eyes to water as
she stared at him.
“I never wanted to go that far. But… I just couldn’t stop remembering everything
her father did to us. I remembered the way I lost my baby. The way Declan died. And
it drove me mad,” she lied smoothly, knowing the right buttons to push.
At the mention of Declan, he flinched like he’d been punched, and his eyes
darkened.