Page 102 of The Princess In A 'Prince' Disguise

Emeriel averted his eyes. He didn't know why the mistress seemed to hate him, but the feeling was very mutual; Emeriel didn’t like her either.

Nevertheless, it was best to avoid her completely, and steer clear of her path.

"You're such a pretty boy," remarked one of the lords when Emeriel dropped off some orders. The lord's large hand cupped his buttock and squeezed.

Like all the other slaves, Emeriel tried not to react. Hastily, he placed the drink down and moved away before the lord's hand could wander any further.

A few feet away, Emeriel stopped as Arang, one of the male slaves, was being ordered to his knees, before the lord proceeded to stuff the slave’s mouth with his sex organ.

Another lord glanced meaningfully at Emeriel and smirked. "That's what pretty boys are made for."

Emeriel swallowed hard, feeling a surge of fear, and quickly hurried away, before that lord decided to use him the same way.

When he returned with the wine he had been ordered to deliver, he dropped it on the table and turned to leave.

"Hey, pretty boy. Come here," a voice commanded.

Emeriel froze, his hand clutching his doublet tightly. It was the same lord Emeriel thought he had escaped.

He could choose to keep walking, pretend he hadn't heard anything, but that would be unwise. The lord would likely persist, drawing the unwanted attention of other lords to Emeriel.

Reluctantly, Emeriel turned and walked toward the lord, keeping his head lowered. However, a large figure suddenly blocked his path.

"I chose you first. What are you doing serving drinks when you should be serving me?" a deep voice growled, low enough not to interrupt the political discussions but loud enough for the other lord to hear.

Emeriel glanced up and saw Lord Herod.

Relief washed over him, almost causing his knees to buckle. He forced himself to remain composed, not wanting to reveal his familiarity with Lord Herod. Lowering his head again, Emeriel spoke, "I apologize, my lord."

Lord Herod firmly grabbed his arm and led him away, back to his seat at the roundtable.

Emeriel sat on the floor at Lord Herod's left, while his slave sat at his right, both heads lowered like dutiful servants awaiting their master's command.

"I want to officially announce my intention to eliminate the feral beast of our grand king," Grand Lord Zaiper declared, drawing Emeriel's attention back to the court.

Some lords instantly spat out their drinks.

Spoons hung mid-air, and those intending to take a sip froze with gaping mouths.

Even the lords getting all kinds of oral pleasures from slaves stilled.

All eyes turned to Grand Lord Zaiper, and the court fell into a sudden hush. But the silence was short-lived as murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. Slowly at first, before escalating into a cacophony of voices.

"Order in the court! Order in the court!" one of the court officials shouted, but the noise only intensified.

"Quiet, everyone," Grand Lord Zaiper commanded. The murmurs didn't cease immediately, as they would have if it were Grand Lord Vladya's orders. But gradually, it died down and Grand Lord Zaiper rose to address the court.

"I understand that most of us here did not expect to hear this, but I have given it a lot of thought. For the safety of our people, I believe it would be best to eliminate the feral beast. We all witnessed the events months ago when Grand King Daemonikai's beast broke free and went on a rampage, causing devastation. On that night, we lost forty of our own. Regrettably, it was not the first incident over the years.

I am certain King Daemonikai would not have wanted this. To kill the same people he fought to protect for thousands of years. Our king is gone forever, and his beast must follow suit."

The court remained eerily silent.

The once festive atmosphere had transformed into one of sadness and melancholy. Some males swallowed hard, while some females were on the verge of tears.

Grand Lord Zaiper wore a saddened expression as he continued, "I understand that we may not feel prepared for this, but it has been five centuries. The truth is, we will never be fully prepared. And that is okay. We owe it to our great king to allow him to rest peacefully with our ancestors. For five hundred years, he has suffered, trapped between worlds. He has not taken physical form since he ran wild, and his mind is long gone. Yet, we keep him here. Causing him pain. Torturing him. He deserves better. He deserves to rest."

For some reason, Emeriel felt his heart constricting as a profound sadness settled within him. He couldn't fathom why.

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