Vetta glared at the old healer sitting in an old wooden chair of an old, rutted house. She was in the blackest of moods and so angry she could start a fire with the heat of her emotions.
“These fertility pills don’t work! I have been taking them for the past four weeks, and nothing works! Nothing!” she hissed angrily.
The blind healer dropped her walking stick with shaky hands beside the way. “They were supposed to work in the first few days. Even before you get to the third pill.”
Vetta snorted. For a shaky old woman dressed in rags, she sure had a powerful voice that contrasted with her frail physique.
“Before I get to the third pill!?” She threw the small empty pill box to the floor. “I’ve finished all eight pills in four weeks, and I’m not pregnant.”
The healer cocked her head to the side in thought. ”Oh, that’s weird.”
“Of course, that’s weird. Considering that you were supposed to be the best healer in all the twelve kingdoms!” she hissed.
“Are you sure you have a womb, and your man can father a child?”
The blunt question took her aback. She glared daggers at the woman. “Yes, I have a womb, you moron. I’ve carried a child before. And my man can father a child.” Of course, the king could father a child. She did not doubt that because a king wouldn’t be incapable of fathering a child. So, it was definitely because of the damned pills. Vetta glared at the healer harder.
The old healer couldn’t see, but Vetta could’ve sworn that the woman knew how angry her expression was because she sighed in resignation.
The healer got up and walked to one of the beat-up shelves in the back. She came out later with a vial of liquid. “Here. That’s a potion for fertility. It is strong and only recommended when one member of the couple has a problem that makes a child impossible.”
Vetta grumbled incoherently and took the potion from the old woman. She slipped it into her pocket, still not feeling better.
It was courting week.
The only rule of courting week was that the king would dedicate all his personal time to his future queen. That meant not having sexual intimacies with the mistresses or the slaves.
Only the princess would grace the king’s bed during this period. Not her. And definitely not that bitch Danika.
A happy and sad development, Vetta thought. She wouldn’t be in the king’s bed, but Danika would not be either. Vetta didn’t know how long the princess planned to stay, and she didn’t know how long the courting week would last.
“Argh!” she huffed in anger. Then Vetta dropped the money bag on the table and marched out of the rutted house in the woods. “Princess, my foot! Marriage, my feet!” she hissed as she marched. It was still hard for her to believe it. Hard for her to take it in. Marriage!?
Vetta had been so focused on that bitch, Danika, she forgot that there was something called ‘forming an allegiance between kings.’
Now, a new bitch would dare step foot into the palace and into the life of her Lucien to reap where she did not sow!?
Over her dead body.
Both Danika and the spoilt princess would have her to deal with! She would spare no one! That was even more reason Vetta needed these medicines to work. It had become a chore to get the king to have sexual intercourse with her lately. Vetta didn’t know why, but she knew things were changing. Was it because of his many duties lately? Or because he was taking a new wife? Or because of Danika?
Vetta didn’t know anything anymore. She’d be damned before she sat back and watched it happen!
As for the new princess, she’d bet she was as spoilt and stupid as they come. She’d be just like the wind.
It would be so easy to blow that particular wind back to her father’s kingdom.
Danika woke up twice. The first time was to quickly relieve her bladder that disturbed her. The second time was also to relieve her bladder. When she woke for the third time, it was late evening. She cursed herself inaudibly as she pushed herself to her feet.
“Oh, heavens! Oh, heavens! Oh, heavens!” she gasped as she sprang up so fast the walls closed in on her. She froze, staggered to maintain her balance, and waited for the room to stop spinning. When it did, she hurried out of the room. She couldn’t find Sally or Remeta. Since it was late evening, she was sure that Princess Kamara must have arrived hours ago, and she hadn’t been there to welcome her.
“Oh, Danika. Why did you have to sleep for so long?” she asked as she hurried away from the royal quarters.
Vetta had just stepped into the palace when she saw Danika walking in a hurry, her eyes flying around as if she was looking for someone.
But she wasn’t looking in the direction she was walking.
Vetta took the opportunity and walked into Danika, causing them both to collide.
“Oh, I’m sorry---” Danika began saying when she collided with someone, only to see that it was the mistress she crashed with.
“How dare you!” Vetta slapped her hard across the cheek.
The force of the blow whipped Danika’s head to the side, a burning pain spreading through her body. She curled her hands into a fist to keep from caressing her stinging cheek and giving that horrible mistress the satisfaction of seeing how much the blow hurt.
Vetta smiled inwardly. She had always wanted to do this. Always. It had been so long since she touched Danika because of the king’s warning that she shouldn’t touch his slave if she did nothing to deserve it. Well, she had eventually done something to deserve it by almost running her down in the hallway. She kept smiling inwardly.
Outwardly, Vetta glared daggers at Danika. “Did you want me to fall!? What? So, now you attack me in the hallway!?”
“I’m sorry for running into you, Mistress. I did not attack you,” she spoke through gritted teeth.
Vetta had always longed to take out her anger on someone. She took a step forward and shoved Danika away with all her strength. “You dirty bitch!”
Danika fell. She tried to break her fall but could not, and her butt hit the ground so hard she cried out. The world tilted around her for the second time that evening. She was winded and felt like she would faint. Danika tried to get up, but she was so tired, and the world around her was still moving.
Then she saw a beautiful woman in golden silk and elaborately designed laces walking closer to them. The elegance of her movements, the high rise of her shoulders as she walked in a sophistication that mirrored hers once upon a time.
The woman walked closer to them and straight to the mistress. She slapped the mistress across the face.
“What the----” the mistress began.
But the woman slapped her again—this time, harder than the first time.
.