When King Lucien stirred, the sun had left the sky, and it was late evening. How
did he fall asleep? And he had fallen asleep, he thought as he rose from the bed.
Memories swarmed him as he sat up and stared around the empty room.
He’d slept in Danika’s embrace. Again. Where was she?
He got up from the bed, wondering how he had slept for as long as he did. He took
a step forward and noticed that his leg no longer hurt.
Just then, the door opened and Vetta entered.
“You’re awake, my king. For a moment, I thought you wouldn’t wake until
morning. You slept for that long.” She walked closer to him and bowed her head in
greeting.
He acknowledged her with a nod of his head and walked past her to his wardrobe
and undressed himself. “Vetta. I haven’t seen you today. Where did you go?”
His concern for her whereabouts made Vetta giddy with excitement, but she
couldn’t tell him she paid the healer of fertility a visit.
“I went into town to see my tailor. She’s making me beautiful new corsets, my
king.” That much was true.
“I heard you were invited to a ball.”
“Yes, my king.” She revealed with barely curbed excitement. “I was wondering if
you would like to be my escort for the party.”
“I can’t attend. You know I don’t like parties,” he stated flatly as he brought out
his evening garment.
She walked closer to him and took it from him. He let her have it. She helped him
clothe his body.
“Yes, I know, my king.” Vetta sighed, hiding her disappointment. She’d been
hoping that he’d still do it for her, even though he hated it. He hated the music, the
noise, and the activities of a party. The king just loved his own company more.
She remembered the fertility pill in her pocket and grinned secretly. Pausing at the
last button, she leaned down and kissed his chest. He stiffened instantly. But she did it
again and again, kissing him all over. She wanted him so much. She wanted to feel
him inside her, and she wanted to carry his seed inside her afterwards.
“Let me make you feel good, my king,” she whispered seductively, running her
hand all over him.
His brows knitted together, and he pulled away from her. “Not today, Vetta. I need
to get some work done.”
Shit! She gave it another try. “I can suck you with my mouth. You will enjoy it;
you know you always do,” she whispered seductively.
His brows knit together as if he was remembering something. Then he shook his
head. “Not tonight, Vetta.”
Knowing that more persuasion wouldn’t work well for her, Vetta nodded, doing
her best to hide her disappointment. She finished working on his button and stepped
back.
He walked past her to his desk and got behind it. His face was the usual
unreadable, stony mask, like they carved it out of granite. But there was a relaxation
to him that wasn’t there before, Vetta thought. Her brows knotted in thought. Could it
be because of the sleep he got? Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t been able to
make him sleep-unlike that godforsaken slave. Maybe she could visit a healer for the
best herbs for sleep.
She cleared her throat, not knowing how to go about asking him the question that
had been disturbing her since. “My king.”
He pulled out an unused feather and opened a fresh bottle of ink. “What is it?”
She shifted uncomfortably at her feet. “I saw the guards m-moving King Cone’s
daughter’s belongings into the former room of Princess Melia…” she trailed off.
He dug the feather into the ink and withdrew it, then started scribbling down on the
scroll in front of him. The silence was deafening.
Vetta was becoming more agitated as time dragged by.
Finally, he raised his head and stared at her. “I don’t hear a question there, Vetta.”
“It just baffles me, Your Majesty. Why would you let your slave move into the
royal quarters-Princess Melia’s bedroom-especially the slave who was also King
Cone’s daughter?”
“I didn’t move King Cone’s daughter to that bedroom. I moved Remeta.” He
reached out for a new scroll and unfolded slowly. He laid it down on the table and
scrutinized it thoughtfully.
“Remeta?” What does that have to do with Baski’s crazy daughter? she asked
herself inwardly.
He spared her a glance. “Have you seen little Remeta lately?”
“No, Your Highness. The last time I saw her, six months ago, she screamed her
head off at the first sight of me,” she answered flippantly.
He discarded the scroll and stretched out his hand to the bag before him, then took
out another new one. “You must see her today, Vetta. She’s willing to get better, and
it was because of Danika. She wants to stay with Danika. I’m letting her.”
“Why Danika? What’s so special about her?” Vetta asked in complete anger and
bewilderment.
Silence. Thick silence. Her question hung in the air.
He got up and walked into his library. Vetta waited impatiently.
Finally, he came out with a file, walked back to his chair and lowered himself on it.
When the silence dragged on, Vetta gave up that she would get an answer.
“Remeta thinks her royalty. She calls her royalty, and because of that, she feels
safe with Danika,” he said at last.
Vetta didn’t understand any of this. And when did she go from being called ‘his
slave’ to ‘Danika’!? She lost it. “But she’s a slave. She’s filthy! She’s become a slave;
that is what she is. She’s not royalty anymore; she lost that status when she became a
slave!”