Page 94 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

A sick feeling churned in her stomach, the nausea hitting her hard. Each attempt to move sent tremors of pain through her battered body. Bile surged up her throat, muscles protesting as she doubled over and wretched onto the rumpled bedding.

She heaved until nothing remained, dry sobs wracking her frame. Tears mingled with saliva and bile on her cheeks, her nose running unchecked. The world swam in a nauseating blur.

A gentle knock broke the silence.My beloved?

The door creaked open, revealing Lord Herod's concerned face. "Oh, my poor little one." He stepped inside. "Your heat has ended."

Indeed it had. The feverish arousal that had consumed her for days was gone, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Hermind was clear, but her body felt as if it had been trampled by a stampede of horses.

"I feel... crushed," she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut against the morning light that stabbed like needles. "Like a war chariot ran me over."

"A common feeling, my dear," Lord Herod soothed. His footsteps drew nearer. "I'll have you moved to the main house. The maids will see to this mess. A bath has already been prepared. You'll feel better afterward."

Emeriel doubted that, but she didn't have the energy to argue. The thought of being clean was a small comfort.

"I'm going to lift you now," Herod announced, his hand reaching for her arm.

Emeriel recoiled with a hiss, her body instinctively shrinking from his touch. "No," she whimpered. "It hurts."

"That, too, is normal, my dear Em," he said softly. "You've been touched constantly for days. Your body craves space to heal. But I'm afraid you'll have to endure it for a moment. Walking will be difficult. This is the only way I can get you out of here."

Emeriel's stomach roiled, making it difficult to focus on Lord Herod's words. She tried to summon the strength to move, but her muscles refused to cooperate.

"Alright," she managed, weakly, bracing herself for the pain.

But nothing prepared her for the abject misery that shot through her when his strong arms lifted her from the bed. Emeriel stifled a cry as she was carried out of the cottage that had been her world for the past three days.

"The grand king has left, hasn't he?" Emeriel tried not to cry.

One would think that after the heat, her emotions would be more stable, but they were still a chaotic mess.

"Yes, at dawn," Lord Herod replied. "Matters of court wait for no man, Emeriel. But he spent your heat with you, staying theentire time, despite his deep-seated hatred for your kind. The gods are truly on your side."

Are they?The grand king had nearly killed her, not once but twice. His pain had often overshadowed their bond, driving him to the brink of murder. Twice, he’d almost strangled her. If the gods truly favored her, they wouldn't have forged this bond in the first place.

Before the manor, shielded from the harsh sunlight, Emeriel finally opened her eyes. The nausea surged again.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Just a few more seconds, my dear," Lord Herod urged. "We're almost there."

Aekeira missed her sister deeply.

Days apart felt like an eternity.

She'd attempted to speed through her chores and slip out of the fortress before but juggling both her work and Em's proved near impossible to complete everything on time. Today, however, she was determined. Not just to finish early, but to elude Master Tyke's ever-watchful eyes. She hadn't encountered him since that dreadful evening, and she'd hoped she never would again.

Rising before dawn, Aekeira barely snatched an hour of sleep before tirelessly cleaning Blackstone's entire third wing. Then, she tended the gardens, watering, weeding, and planting. By midday, she was exhausted but elated. Everything was going according to plan. She would see Em.

Humming a cheerful tune, Aekeira moved around the toolshed, organizing.

"Well, well. Look who it is. The human witch."

She spun at Slavemaster Tyke's voice. He stood in the doorway, pipe in hand.

Her eyes fell, concealing the fear rising within. She hadn't encountered him since that dreadful evening, and she'd hoped she never would again. "Good day, Master Tyke."

"Spare me the pleasantries." He inhaled deeply from his pipe. "What did you do to his highness?"

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