. Danika was the first to open her eyes in the morning. Her eyes hit the window
behind the king. It was dawn outside.
The silence of the early morning was eerie. Danika’s eyes rested on the man who
lay beside her. He was still sleeping, his long lashes drawled over his closed eyes.
She watched him unashamedly, hungrily. It was just her awake, and she’d wanted
to watch him up close. While he slept, none of the hard lines on his face were present.
There was no frown line. His mouth wasn’t pursed in displeasure. He is
handsome, Danika thought in the back of her mind. Even with the scar that started
from hairline and ran down his cheek, his neck and disappeared into his clothes, he
was still handsome.
She moved her body a little, and without looking down, she felt where his arms
met her waist while her own hand rested on his chest. She didn’t dare breathe hard, or
she would wake him.
Danika didn’t know how long had passed as she watched him, committing this
image of him with all his guards down into memory.
Finally, she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. She fell back asleep.
Slowly, Lucien started coming to awareness. The darkness of the night had
disappeared from the bedroom, replaced by the light of the day.
He’d slept through the night, and he’d slept without nightmares. Again.
His eyes found Danika, who slept beside him. His forehead creased, and he
frowned. It was her.
It was not a medicine Baski might have made or Vetta’s sexual expertise or writing
scrolls until he was exhausted. It was her. It was Danika.
Lucien didn’t understand how that was possible, but he had slept again, and that
was all he could think of.
He got up from the bed and went to the bathroom. He had a day in court today, and
it was important that he attend on time.
Danika stirred again when she heard water rushing. She got up from the bed and
groaned as her sore muscles protested. She picked up her clothes, her mind going
back to the night before, and her cheeks heated badly. Several times, she disobeyed
him. Would he punish her for it?
It didn’t matter if he did punish her, she concluded. It was worth it.
Danika was completely dressed before the king was done taking his bath.
He came out wearing a long flimsy garment that clung to his wet body. She bowed
her head as he stepped into the bedroom.
“Good day, Master,” she whispered, squeezing her hands nervously in front of her.
“Do you know how to hunt?”
The question was unexpected, and she drew a blank for a few seconds. Then she
nodded and stuttered out, “Y-yes, my king.”
“Get ready at noon and come to court. After court, you will join me on the hunting
ground,” he ordered.
“Yes, my king.” Danika was flustered. The court, she could understand. But why
would he want to take her to the hunting game of kings?
Slaves did not attend that. Queens, yes. Princesses, yes. Mistresses, yes. The
privileged, yes. But never slaves.
Why would he want to take her there?
“Do not be late for court,” he said sternly.
“Yes, my king.”
He turned fully and stared at her. “Danika, I’m your master, not your king.”
Her eyes widened, and she lowered her head the more. “I’m so sorry, Master.”
She hadn’t been aware that she was calling him that. Slaves did not make such
punishable mistakes; what’s wrong with her!?
He turned away again and dismissed her. She bowed her head and started out of
the door.
Every muscle in her body protested each movement she made. She closed the door
behind her and started walking through the hallway of the king’s quarters. She almost
reached a turn when a woman came around the corner-the king’s mistress.
Vetta was having a pleasant morning, but the smile on her face disappeared when
she saw Danika. She had just come out of the king’s chambers, and Vetta knew it was
not because he summoned her this morning. She walked close to Danika, and the
slave bowed to her. The king’s scent clung to her so much it prickled her nose and
made her anger burn.
The slave slept on the king’s bed; Vetta was very sure of that. Her hand on her
clothes squeezed so tight, and she imagined she was squeezing Danika’s head.
Danika bowed to her. “Mistress,” she greeted and walked past her.
Vetta’s arm shot at her, and she dragged her back. “You. You slept in his bed,
didn’t you!?”
Danika nodded, seeing no point in denying it. “It was his wish.”
Vetta walked closer and grabbed hold of her hair, anger and jealousy burning
through her. She yanked hard on Danika’s hair, Danika cried out as pain shot through
her body. She could feel the pain of strands of her hair ripping from her scalp. Vetta
didn’t let go.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you slave!? Do you think you’re more
than a slave because you suddenly know what the king’s bed feels like?” she snarled,
vibrating with anger.
Danika gripped her gown and fisted it hard. She had the overwhelming urge to slap
the mistress hard across the face and damn the consequences like she did before. It
was an urge she resisted. Instead, she held Vetta’s hand in her hair to reduce the
pressure before the mistress pulled a clump of her hair out.
“You’re a dirty slave!” Vetta growled. “And that’s what you’ll remain. Do not
think otherwise, do you hear me!?”
“You’re hurting me,” Danika said calmly, glaring hard at the mistress. She did her
best to hide the pain so she wouldn’t give the witch satisfaction.
Vetta only tightened her hand on her hair. “That’s the least of your problems, you
slave. I might throw caution to the wind and kill you one of these days just to be rid of
you.”
“Let her go, Vetta.”
At the deep voice of the king, Vetta let go of her hair as if it burned her fingers and
whirled around.
“My king!” she gasped and bowed her hair. “G-good day, my king.”
The king stared at her with that unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes
were dissecting her. Vetta lowered her head in shame under such scrutiny.
The king’s eyes and blank expression often communicated more than his mouth
ever could. Finally, he looked at Danika. “You can go, Danika.”
“Thank you, Master.” She bowed to him, squared her shoulders, and walked past
Vetta with her nose in the air.
Behind her, the king turned back to his bedroom and strode into it. Vetta followed
him like a subdued dog, but inside, she was seething.
She didn’t understand anything anymore.