Page 19 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

"Yes, indeed," Emeriel agreed, a smile gracing her lips as she led him towards another garden section. Rows of lavender stretched out in a soothing purple wave. "And here we have lavender. Its uses are numerous. Aside from its calming fragrance, believed to aid sleep, it is also used in remedies for skin ailments and added to teas for its relaxing properties."

King Daemonikai brushed his fingers against the lavender, releasing its distinctive aroma. "Ah, I am familiar with this one," he said, a shadow passing over his face. "My bondmate was quite fond of its fragrance. We used to keep sachets of dried lavender in our chambers."

Oh… Dangerous ground.

Emeriel bit her lips. "I am sorry for your loss," she whispered.

He said nothing, only walked away from the lavender, his steps measured and deliberate. As they moved deeper into the garden, the silence lingered, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Even the lavender does not help with sleep," he finally spoke again. "Nor do any of the medicinal herbs."

"You do not sleep well?" Emeriel asked.

"I do not sleep at all," he corrected, his tone flat. "Perhaps it is for the best."

He stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

"You asked if I hate humans. The answer is yes. Some days, I feel as though I cannot breathe for the sheer hatred that consumes me towards your kind." He spoke calmly, but his words carried a chilling weight. "I spend countless hours, time I cannot afford to waste, lost in thoughts of vengeance. Visuals of retribution. I wonder how I can possibly alleviate this pain. To make it even a fraction less unbearable. Should I burn the world down? Set it ablaze and watch it crumble to ashes?" His head tilted to the side. "I could do it, and I would not feel a shred of remorse."

Emeriel shivered, the hairs on her arms standing on end.

"Some days, I wish I had never returned. I wish I had died that night. Being a survivor is not a blessing when one has lost everything that matters. I am a mess inside, little princess. There is a dark void within me," he stated, placing a hand over his heart. "A void that was created the night they took everything from me in the Vortex Hall. Just one night of weakness every five hundred years. Just one night broke my kingdom, my people, my rulers."

He turned away, casually resuming his walk with that same sophisticated stride. "I suppose I must give credit to the humans," he mused thoughtfully. "They managed to accomplishwhat countless other species have attempted and failed to do for over five thousand years. They succeeded in breaking me."

Emeriel blinked back tears, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

Unlike Lord Vladya, who seethed with anger when discussing the tragedy, King Daemonikai spoke of his loss with an unsettling lack of emotion.Her Beloved is in far greater pain than she could have ever imagined.

She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to reach out and offer comfort. She could feel his agony in her chest. Like a thousand daggers piercing her heart.

He paused, his gaze drifting towards a vibrant row of flowers. "However, I am a leader. Do you know what that means, young princess? It means I must bury my pain, for my people will always come first. I cannot succumb to the vengeance that gnaws at me—not because I lack the power, but because it is not what my people need right now. They need to rebuild, to find solace and a semblance of normalcy. My duty as their king is to guide and show them how to move forward, even when I am lost."

His gaze returned to her like green flames in a darkened forest. "Do I hate humans? With every fiber of my being, and every ounce of my soul. I never want to have anything to do with any of them. Ever."

Emeriel saw now, with a clarity she had lacked before, the wisdom behind Lord Vladya's actions. His insistence on scent suppressants and distance.

She had seen it mostly as punishment and an act of cruelty. But he had actually protected her, shielded her from the wrath of a broken king. Lord Vladya was right; he had done her a favor.

"Why are you telling me this?" She swallowed hard, her eyes searching his for answers.

"I have no idea," he admitted with a shrug. "Perhaps it is easier to overlook you as you are betrothed to one of My Lords, and if he has accepted you, as his ruler, I am trying to do the same?"

His head tilted slightly, in thought. “Perhaps, because I do not feel that usual agitation in your presence, even though you are human? Is it because you are a Syren? Or is it your scent? Perhaps it's because I have no personal ties to you, no connection whatsoever. I cannot say for certain, young princess."

That means if we had any connection, his attitude toward me would have been entirely different.

Wait. "My scent?"

Emeriel paled. She didn’t use the scent suppressants this morning!

"Yes. Your scent... I cannot even begin to describe it. I feel as though I have caught that scent before, but I cannot recall where or when. All I know is that it calls to me."

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them, his eyes blazing. He was looking at her with that penetrating gaze again, his presence overwhelming her senses.

"Can I scent you?"

"Huh?" Emeriel gasped, breathless. His fragrance, a potent blend of masculine power, surrounded her, filling her nostrils, making her head spin. He was a towering figure, filling her vision and senses. At that moment, her entire world narrowed down to this one man.

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