His scent was everywhere. Danika kept her nose deeply buried in the mattress as she worried herself to no end.
It was late at night, and he wasn’t in his bed chambers. She was too worried to sleep. Her baby must be as worried as she was, or already asleep, because he was being too quiet.
The last two weeks hadn't been all perfect. Not since the king stopped being so...susceptible to her. Not since he began withdrawing from her.
You're being too paranoid again, Danika. Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. The king isn’t here because he must be busy in court or the consultation room. She managed to convince and calm herself. And yet, sleep wouldn't come. She was too...wired up, and at the same time, too tired.
Then the sound of soft, steady footsteps came to her ears. Suddenly, she was beginning to feel better. He's here.
King Lucien entered his chambers, and his steps faltered. Danika was lying down on his bed facing him, her eyes trailing him lazily. His chest became heavier than it was before. His eyes lowered to the swollen contours of her belly...to his child that nestled inside her. He averted his eyes. The sight of her was hurting him badly. A different kind of pain.
“Are you alright, my king?” she whispered worriedly at the look on his face, pulling herself up to a sitting position. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.
“What are you doing here?” His voice came out hard. He wasn't lying when he told Baski that he was barely hanging on by a thread.
“I couldn't sleep. And I was worried about you. I haven't seen you all day.”
“There's nothing to be worried about. I'm fine,” he grated out, walking to his wardrobe. He undressed methodically.
She watched the tensed muscles of his broad shoulder blades as he slipped his nightclothes on. The loose shirt first, followed by his loose pants. He had his back to her all along.
The familiar tingling started in her bladder. Pee. She needed to use the bathroom. So she got up and walked to the bathroom. Several minutes later, she was out again. The king was standing at the window with his arms crossed together beneath his chest. He was staring out of it.
“Go to your room tonight,” he said without turning around.
“Why?” she whispered. “What is going on?”
“Nothing. I just want to be alone.”
“I wouldn't disturb--”
“No. I really do want to be alone,” he stated crisply.
But instead of leaving, she gathered her courage—the love she had for him—and walked closer to him. Coming up to him from behind, she placed a hand on his back.
He recoiled visibly.
She swallowed tightly. “Y-you're scaring me. Is it something I did wrong? Please t-tell me, and I will try to make amends.”
The shakiness of her voice rubbed him so wrongly, but he forced himself not to react to it.
Tomorrow, she will have so much power in her arms, she will be queen and command a great army. She will be able to make the choices she wants in her life, not to live the choices that was imposed on her.
Tomorrow, he would lose her.
“Please, L-Lucien. Let me in. Instead of pushing me away, why not let me in? Is it because of the mistress's condition? Do you want to free her? Is it something I did wrong?” she pleaded.
He pulled away from her. “Leave me alone,” he ordered coldly.
A sentence had never hurt more than those three cold words the king said to her. Danika let her hand drop helplessly.
“Okay. I will leave you alone,” she capitulated in a soft, but sorrowful voice. What was wrong with him?
She turned to leave.
He whirled around and faced her.
She stopped suddenly, seeing the intense look in his eyes—lethal, cold, hard and sorrowful all at once. Like a wounded feral wolf.
She took a step back. It was terrifying. She took another step back.
His eyes narrowed at her retreating movements. Her breathing picked up.
Then he lunged for her.
Donna wore her sexiest night cloth, the red chemise she knew King Valendy loved so much. Lying on the bed like a seductress, she waited for him to join her.
Her eyes trailed him as the maids changed him to his nightclothes before he ordered them out. They bowed and disappeared from the bedroom.
Should she tell the king first about Kamara's animalistic treatment to her? Or about making her a head concubine?
The bed dipped, taking her attention. The king laid beside her. He needn't say a word; instead, his eyes made the commands for him.
She rose above him and undressed. As she pleasured him in her exquisite expertise, he seemed to enjoy himself as always, but tonight, the king seemed oddly detached.
Long minutes later, they were breathing hard, her chest heaving from the aftermaths of her satisfaction as she lowered herself beside him again.
“I have pleased you, my lord?” She twined her fingers in his fair hair, her own body languid from the pleasure he had given her.
“Of course, Donna,” he said, annoyed that she disturbed the silence he waited.
There was a flash of anger in her doe-brown eyes. She knew full well she had pleased him but a short time before, and it galled her now to see him again remote and withdrawn. But from her long experience with him, she knew that reproaches would gain her nothing. She let her face soften into an inviting expression and lowered herself onto his chest, pressing her breasts against him. She slid her arms around his neck and gently tugged until he turned his face to hers.
“I know Kamara disappointed you so greatly that you regret having a daughter like her.”
He remained silent, gazing right past her.
“What she did hurt me too, for it's something I never expected from her. You know I will always look out for you. I will keep looking out for you in the future, my lord,” she drawled pliantly.
“This is so unlike my daughter. The Kamara I know so well has always used her head. I do not understand how she can fall for this peasant.”
Oh, she knew the best way to get back to Kamara for insulting her and beating her up. “What if he's using a charm on her? Or maybe it's an act of rebel from herself? I think you should kill the peasant, my king.”
“Kill him?” He considered that thoughtfully. “It is not a decision I make lightly. I can torture him but killing him…That is extreme.” He shook his head once. “I do not want to lose my daughter to this madness, Donna.”
“What about marrying her off? Shouldn't the king already come calling by now?”
“That is what I do not understand.” His brows furrowed. “I have always known Conald's son to be a man of his word.”
“Do you think he has rejected the marriage?”
He reared back at the abominable idea. “After my daughter spent months of courting week with him? Spending time with him unchaperoned and sharing his bed? Her innocence ruined, her virtue in shreds? Her reputation will be in ruins and it will cause a great scandal. That will mean war.” Anger blanketed his face and he shook his head adamantly. “King Lucien might have only been king for five years but he is known across the lands to be a wise king. He will not want to go to war with me. He better not!”
He was getting too worked up, and that wasn't the way Donna wanted him to be when she requests to be made head concubine. So she began rubbing his chest and stomach in what she hoped was a soothing gesture, even as she gritted her teeth impatiently. Several minutes passed before she cleared her throat. “My Lord?”
“What is it?”
“I have proven myself to you over and over again. What do you th-think about making me the head concubine? You will not regret it—”
“I need rest and I will have a busy day tomorrow because I plan to pay that peasant boy a visit—amidst other things. As you can see, I am not in the mood for this. So stop daydreaming, and get out, Donna.” His voice was curt.
“But my king!” she protested loudly.
He glared at her. “To. Your. Room.”
Donna hissed inaudibly, got up from the bed, and stormed out of the room.