Page 3 of The King's Maiden
I promised her I would.
But, as usual, Gia had left out a few pertinent details.
She shared them the next day, confirming what I’d already guessed about The Quest.
Thirty days of being called a Maiden, fighting other girls for the favor of the King, and essentially belonging to one of the Knights?
That wasexactlythe kind of lemon life would throw at me.
It was preposterous. Antiquated. Barbaric. I hated to say it, but downrightmedieval.
I didn’t shout about it, but I considered myself a feminist. No way could I handle taking orders from some frat boy douche calling himself a Knight.
And an overlord of the douches calling himself King?
Spare me.
Plus, with my track record, I’d get picked by the one expecting me to call himMy Lord.
Or worse,Master.
And I’d be punished for laughing in his face as soon as he ordered me to do it.
There was no way The Quest would work out in my favor. I’d made up my mind on it. I’d find another way out of the financial mess I’d gotten myself into.
Preferably, one that didn’t cost me my dignity.
That. Was. That.
But then, as my ill-fated luck would have it, I came face-to-face with the King.
Chapter One
QUINN
“That’ll be three hundred and thirty-two dollars and eight cents.”
“Three hundred dollars?” I squawked back, staring at the pharmacist in disbelief.
“And thirty-two dollars and eight cents.”
I balked. “That’s outrageous. Did you run it through my insurance?”
“Yes.” His bored tone and dry look implied he didn’t appreciate such a stupid question.
Well, I didn’t appreciate price gouging for life-saving medication. So, we were both disappointed by this turn of events, buddy.
“That has to be a mistake.” I shook my head, my fingers itching to run through my hair and pull it out. I pinned my hand to my side. “Can youpleaserun it again?”
He blinked at me, my plea falling short of a tug on his heartstrings. But he tapped his keyboard and refreshed the information.
He shook his head. “Same total.”
I began to sweat.
Swiping at my temples, I gave in to the urge and ran my hand over my scalp. I searched for the scar hidden beneath my hair. My bracelet snagged on random strands, pulling them free of my messy bun.
They floated to the floor while my anxiety shot through the roof.
