Page 72 of Downfall of a Princess

“I want you to know that I do appreciate your kind gesture,” he said. “Your intention behind paying off my contract was by far the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I am grateful, and I’m sorry that the result wasn’t what you expected from it.”

I rubbed my arms, not feeling any less foolish. But he also had made me think. If a slave could make a real difference in children’s lives, surely a princess could do so much more. I had the power, I just had to find a way to apply it.

“I’ll speak with my father,” I promised. “He’s the main patron of all orphanages in Egami City. From what I’ve learned from him, I thought the children’s education was taken care of, that they were taught basic literacy skills along with crafts and trades.”

“Girlsare taught all of that,” Salas corrected. “Boys are mostly raised to be husbands and fathers, or general laborers if they fail to find a wife to support them. It’s believed thatthe brain is not required for physical labor. So why teach them anything?”

Everything he’d said to me today resonated in one way or another with words I’d heard often but long ago and in another world.

“It’s a man's world. There are few options for women to make it in life on their own.”

“You need to find a husband before you’re too old to attract a man.”

“As a young woman with no connections, if you want a job and a place to live, you’ll need a rich man who’d give it to you.”

It struck me how similar yet polar opposite these ideas were. How absurd they would sound outside of the world where they came from.

As we reached the slaves’ barracks, I stopped uneasily. Sadness curled around my heart as it was time to say goodbye.

Salas turned to me. “Well, thank you for your help with the city guards, Princess. You spared me a lot of explaining I’d rather not do.”

“It was no trouble... Oh, I almost forgot.” I grabbed the satchel on my side. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” He blinked, looking confused.

“It’s a present. Kind of...” I pulled out the shirt wrapped in a piece of plain canvas from the market. “Nothing much. I just...well. Just take it, please.” I shoved it into his hands.

Who knew that giving presents would feel this awkward?

He smiled into his beard. His cheeks flushed a little.

“It’s been a while since anyone gave me a present,” he muttered, staring at the package.

“It’s just a shirt,” I blurted out, not waiting for him to unwrap it. “I thought it’d suit you. I really hope you’ll like it.” I exhaled a nervous laugh. “Because if you don’t, it won’t be easy to find someone your size to give it to instead.”

“I love it,” he said, without even seeing it yet. Holding the package in one hand, he reached for me with the other as if to hug me, then caught himself and dropped his arm without touching me. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Clearly, it was time for me to go. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave. The shirt just didn’t feel like a good enough present for all the things he’d made me feel. On the other hand, no matter how much he’d given me, I wanted more.

“Salas.” I took a step toward him, unsure how to say it.

He met me halfway, stepping so close, I could feel the warmth of his body through his clothes. I would’ve given anything for him to hold me again, but he wouldn’t even touch me.

“I’ll never forget you,” I breathed out. “Wherever you are.”

Lifting his hand, he skimmed with the tips of his fingers down the side of my face. His touch was light, like a caress of a breeze.

“You will,” he said. “As you should.”

He was right, of course. The smart thing would be to forget this man and what his touch had made me feel. But defiance rose in me when he stated it so adamantly.

Rising on my toes, I hugged his neck. He let me guide him down to me, and I pressed my mouth to his. The muscles in his neck stiffened, turning solid like stone. But he parted his lips for me, accepting my kiss. His tongue met mine. He released a soft moan, and I swallowed it in the kiss I never wanted to end. It was tainted with bitterness and desperation, but I devoured it anyway, as long as I still could.

Like always, he pulled back first, his shoulders squared, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Princess.” His voice was rough, but the word came out soft and tender like a caress.

I forced my fingers to unclench, releasing the hair on the back of his head, then removed my hands from him, hurt by every bit of distance building between us. I pressed my forehead to his chest, unable to let go of him completely.

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