Page 48 of The Princess and Her Grand King

But this one… this girl child was alone. No adult waited nearby, no watchful parent in sight.

"Fruits," the youngling mumbled, her eyes fixed on the basket.

Emeriel's gaze darted around, wary of onlookers who might misinterpret the interaction. She didn't need a crowd accusing her of harming their child.

"Where are your parents, young one?"

"Sick Mama. No food.” The child held her clothing and tugged again. “I'm hungry, Princess."

Her words tugged at Emeriel’s heart. Kneeling, she met the child's gaze. In human years, the child would be no older than six, but in Urekai years, she was likely even younger.

"Would you like some fruits?" Emeriel asked.

"Yes, please," the girl replied, her voice small, her little smile hopeful.

"What's your name?"

"Dabekka."

"Now, Dabekka, hold out your clothes," Emeriel instructed, helping the child raise her garment to form a makeshift pouch. She then emptied the fruits from her basket into Dabekka's cocooned dress, ensuring the fruits stayed secure.

The youngling’s eyes widened with delight. "Thank you, please!" She darted forward and planted a quick, unexpected kiss on Emeriel’s cheek before sprinting off.

Stunned, Emeriel slowly rose, her hand touching the spot where the kiss lingered like a warm breath. She scanned the area again, and sure enough, several Urekai were watching her from a distance.

Her first instinct was to shout, "Idid not harm her!"But she swallowed the impulse.

Instead, she squared her shoulders and continued toward the fortress.Let them think what they like.

"Welcome back, Princess. The herbalist is inside," the soldier stationed at the entrance informed her.

"The herbalist?" Emeriel frowned. She had already visited the herbalist's dwelling, collecting the herbs he was supposed to deliver, before going to the garden.

Her footsteps were soundless as she entered the chambers.

A man stood over the grand king, his dagger raised above the king's heart.

Chapter twelve

CARING FOR HER MALE.

Reactingonpureinstinct,Emeriel leaped onto the bed and collided with the intruder, her hands closing around the dagger’s hilt.

They struggled for control of the weapon, muscles straining as the blade wavered between them. With a fierce cry, she rammed her fist into the assassin’s stomach.

The blow landed hard, forcing a grunt from him as he staggered backward, his grip on the dagger slipping. Emeriel wrenched the weapon free from his hand.

"Who are you?" she demanded, advancing on the intruder.

The assassin recovered quickly and lunged at her, his hands clawing for the dagger.

Emeriel twisted, keeping him from reaching it. Each time he made a grab for the weapon, she pulled it just beyond his grasp.

His frustration mounted, and with a rough growl, he swung a fist at her face. Emeriel deflected it with quick reflexes, and seizing her chance, she drove the dagger deep into the assassin’s chest.

He let out a long, ragged breath as his body tensed. Then, with a slow heave, he collapsed at her feet. Lifeless.

Emeriel straightened, dusting off her hands, when a faint groan reached her ears.

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