THE SLAVE PRINCESSAs the king slept in her arms, Danika stood there, still caressing his head. She wouldn’t mind standing there for hours if it would make him sleep well. He was a man who never slept.
Time dragged by; his labored breaths filled the air. His arms loosenedaround her, but never fell away.
She wanted to keep running her hands through his soft hair. She didn’t realize she’d started humming until a new soft sound joined his breathing in the air. She wished there was a way to erase the past fifteen years of his life. Of all their lives. But then again, wishes have never been horses or beggars would have ridden them, too.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and Mistress Vetta walked into the king’s chambers. She stopped short at the sight in front of her, her lips gaping apart in shock.
Danika lowered her head in a bow of greeting, but she didn’t stop stroking the king’s hair or humming to him.
Vetta couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The king had his arm wrapped loosely around Danika while she patted his head and hummed him a song.
He was sleeping. The king was sleeping, even in a sitting position.
The scene hurt Vetta too much; it overrode her mind with so much anger and rage, she almost doubled over. The jealousy she felt was overwhelming.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She did her best to keep her whispered voice neutral, even as her insides were burning.
“The king is sleeping, Mistress. I am stroking his head and singing to him to help him have a better sleep.”
Vetta knew she should be happy that the king could finally rest his head in sleep, but the happiness was nowhere to be found. Other feelings overrode it.She glared at the woman in a slave uniformwith the bearing of a princess. Even after standing for so long, she must have been uncomfortable, the woman lookedelegant as she caressed the king’s hair like a pianist would lovingly stroke the keys.
Vetta wanted her out. Out of the king’s life. Out of the palace. Out of Salem.
“He is sleeping already. Gently lay him out on the bed and get out!” Vetta hissed, her shoulders shaking with barely controlled rage.
Danika saw the way the mistress was practically boiling over, even as she was doing her best to hide it. She decided that it’d be good not to protest. “Yes Mistress,” she muttered. Gently, she moved forward until the king’s head touched the bed. He laid down on it and she raised his legs onto the bed.
Once done, Danika stepped back,but the mistress suddenly grabbed her arm. She hauled her out of the bedroom until they were out of the king’s chambers.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” Vetta snarled at her.
Danika’s heart was beating out of her chest, but outside, she looked at the mistress with a calm demeanor. “I did nothing, Mistress. I was only following the king’s orders.”
Vetta grabbed hold of her hair and yanked so hard on it, she pulled several strands from the root as she drew Danika’s face closer to hers. “Keep to your dirty, filthy lane, you slave!” she hissed. “Do not put your hands on people who are in a higher class than you are!”
As soon as Vetta grabbed her hair, Danika had expected her to drag her by it, so when Vetta did, Danika didn’t cry out from the intense pain. Instead, she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from crying out. “I was only following the king’s orders,” she repeated through gritted teeth.
“That’s a lie! You were intentionally messing with him! Who do you think you are!?”
The hallway was empty, and the mistress’s hand in her hair was really hurting her. Danika had had enough.
She grabbed Vetta’s hand and yanked it away from her hair. Vetta gasped, surprise dulling the rage and anger for a bit. Danika arranged her curls by running her hand through her hair, and she avoided her burning scalp, massaging her hair till it was better.
Then her eyes met and held Vetta’s burning gaze. She squared her shoulders.“I am Danika, Mistress. The king’s slave is who I am.”She started walking past an angry Vetta and stopped a few steps past her. She swiveled her head to the side. “For twenty-two years, I was Princess Danika, the princess of the Mombana kingdom. My status has fallen, Mistress, but a few months didn’t take away years of upbringing and conditioning—years of class. Please forgive me for putting my hands on people in a better class than I am, but it was the king’s orders.” She turned her head and walked away.
Vetta stood there with her mouth gaping open. That bitch yanked her hand away from her hair! She dared speak to her about the past!? Did she just intentionally remind Vetta that she was once a princess and she, Vetta, was once a slave!?
Did she just remind her that she was born royalty, and she, Vetta, was born a slave!?
How. Dare. She!?