The emotional display reminded Baski what she never forgot...her pregnancy. The old woman sighed as she walked to her and wrapped her arms around her Danika's neck, pulling her in for a hug. “It's for your own good, Dani. You know this.”
Danika snuggled against her, tears cascading down her eyes in waves. “I don't want to eat herbal broth,” she mumbled miserably, pouting.
It reminded Baski of a kicked rabbit. She smiled. “Let's forget all about broth for now, okay?”
“You won't tell the king?” Danika mumbled like a child trying to keep her mother from finding out she did wrong.
Baski pulled away without answering. She walked back to the table and began grinding the herb leaves she picked up from the table.
“I'll call Uyah and Derul to run you a nice bath. Oh, not to mention your new clothes from the seamstress will be arriving today and you will try them all out.”
Danika completely forgot that the older woman didn't respond to her request, instead she shrugged one shoulder. “Why try them out anyway? I'll still look fat and pregnant in them.”
Baski snorted again. “You're only fat in your belly, I'll give you that. Apart from that, you're still the size as before. Here, drink this.”
Danika opened her mouth automatically and Baski poured down the bitter liquid squeezed out from the herbs. “There you go,” the old woman encouraged.
Danika grumbled her way to the bathroom where she relieved her bladder. She heard Baski leave. It didn't take long before Uyah and Derul entered and began helping her to run her bath. She was grateful and she didn't protest. Baski wouldn't be the one frowning at her refusing the care and help but the king. Since he found out about her pregnancy, he'd specifically ordered all the maids and guards on her. Refusing their help meant putting them in trouble. And so, she kept mute while they arranged her bedroom and ran her bath for her. She never forgot to thank any of them afterwards.
After her bath, the seamstress was waiting with her new clothes in her bedroom. She helped her fit into each and every one of them. They fit perfectly, and as Danika looked at herself in the mirror. Her shoulders hunched.
She looked like she swallowed a giant snake.
An hour later, Danika was watching Remeta and Corna play around in the backyard. They were chasing after one insect or another, laughing and playing.
Little Corna seemed happier, and he had been since the arrival of his little sister a month ago. Danika could still remember visiting the family after Haydara gave birth. The happiness of the couple was contagious, and longing had speared her—longing to have her own son in her arms.
As Danika watched Gunther crowd his wife from behind, and smile so joyously at the small baby, she couldn't help imagining the king like that with their own baby. Would he smile with so much happiness? Would he be there at all, or would he be away on business? Would he be kept tied up in court? She'd tried to imagine his face while he carried their son after birth, and her heart bloomed with love for him.
She felt another kick to her belly that soothed and calmed her. Those kicks made the nausea, vomiting, and occasional pains in her back all worth it. Her little baby. The life she and the king created.
A guard came up to her then and informed her that the king summoned her.
Henna was in Princess Kamara's bedroom arranging her bookshelf when mistress Donna swung the door open and entered the room like she owned it.
“M-mistress! A very g-good morning to you, mistress!” Henna gasped, very flustered, as she pushed herself to her feet and bowed her head to the head mistress of the king.
Mistress Donna looked around the empty bedroom, her lips pursed. “Where is Princess Kamara?”
Henna swallowed tightly. This shouldn't be happening at all! What was this mistress doing here now? “She went h-hunting, mistress,” the girl pushed out.
“Mm,” Donna pushed her well-combed black hair away from her face, cocking her head to the side. “Don't you think she's roaming the wilds often these days, Henna?”
“W-well, you know it's a hobby of hers, Mistress,” Henna laughed nervously.
“Mm. And where does she keep all the meats she gets after hunting? Yori hasn't been cooking bush meat lately, I'll have you know, because I asked her.” The mistress crossed her arms, her lips pursed in suspicion.
Henna shifted uncomfortably. “I think Manata is the one cooking them, Mistress,” she referred to another palace cook, one close to her princess.
Mistress Donna nodded, “I'll make sure to ask Manata once she comes to work today. Princess Kamara had been very suspicious lately. She'd better not be seeing that wretched boy who lives near the hills, or they will be in a lot of trouble.” With a cynical smile, she turned and walked out of the door.
Henna's legs wobbled, and she sat hard on the floor in a heap. That wicked mistress will just put her princess into more trouble.
For the past two months, her princess had used every time her father turned his back to run to her lover's place. She had been spending a lot of time there, and Henna was very happy for her princess. Her princess deserved to marry someone she loved, not the scarred and scary king she didn't love.
But this mistress would put her princess in trouble if the king found out about this.
Henna shuddered, unable to bear the thought.
Danika entered the king's chambers and stared around the empty room. A noise in the inner bedroom told her that he was inside there.
He's in the library, so she couldn't go to him. So she had to wait for him to come out right there.
Her eyes found the food on the table, and her mouth watered automatically at the sight and smell of food. There were more than six closed plates on the table. She walked towards it and opened all the plates, salivating at the foods before closing them right back. The last plate she opened wiped the smile from her face—chicken broth and soup.
“Oh, no,” she moaned regretfully. “Baski, that traitorous woman!” She gasped loudly.
Footsteps began her and had her whirling around to face the king. His hands were behind his back, and he stared at her with flushed, angry cheeks. King Lucien allowed himself to look her all over. The new petticoat was so beautiful on her, it only enhanced her deeply-ingrained beauty and molded her swollen belly before flowing at her feet. She was exquisite. Exquisite and very pregnant.
And very angry.
King Lucien wasn't surprised about her anger or most of the strange moods and feelings she had exhibited lately before him. For the past two months, he had bought all the books scholars and bards wrote about pregnancy and childbirth. He spends most of his free time reading each and every one of them.
“We will have breakfast, Danika,” he announced as he walked closer to her. His fingers itched to touch her. He didn't.
“I don't want to eat broth; I don't like what it tastes like!” she burst out, obviously worked up.
“You have to. It is good for your condition.”
She folded her hand stubbornly, her nose in the air in that usual regalia that never abated from her, not even after one year in slavery.
His eyes found the small silver-chained black collar that branded her his slave. That branded her his property. The collar that represented every pain he has ever been through at the hands of King Cone. He averted his eyes away. Lately, he did not like seeing that collar on her.
“You have to eat broth,” he said.
“No!” She stomped her foot.
“Danika.”
“No!”
“Dani—”
“No!” Tears swamped her eyes. “That traitorous old woman!” she hissed under her breath.
The stubborn reply was almost funny. It would have been if the king was a smiling man. He did not take offense. Instead, he sighed and stopped resisting the urge to touch her. Knowing that command wouldn't solve his problem now, he placed his hand on her cheek. “Don't you want to stay healthy?” he asked.
Her lower lips trembled. “I want to be.”
“Don't you want our child to be born healthy?”
“Of course, I want him to. You know I want him to,” she replied in a calmer voice, sniffling.
“Then you have to eat,” he coaxed gently.
Sad puppy-dog eyes met his blue ones pleadingly. “But I don't—”
“I will feed it to you,” he blurted out. Then he frowned slightly. He did not know anything about feeding anybody, and he has no idea why he said something like that.
Danika looked torn. Wanting him so close to her and feeding her....or not eating broth?
“Okay but I might throw up on you, it makes me queasy,” she mumbled miserably as she allowed him to coax her to the nearest chair. She sat down on it and looked up at him. “I might vomit on you.”
He has never fed anybody, and no one has ever vomited on him before. Are all pregnant women this strange? He wondered thoughtfully.
And she was still staring at him hopefully, expecting him to call off broth because she might throw up on him.
“I do not mind if you throw up on me, Danika. But we will eat broth.”
Her face crumbled, she stared dreadfully at the plate of chicken broth. “As you wish, Your Highness,” she mumbled miserably.