Page 19 of The Princess's Pet

“Percy, we are friends, I’m sorry,” he called, and I heard a slapping sound and Dylan yelp, followed by Ana angrily asking what he did.

When I left the room, standing directly opposite the door, leaning leisurely against the wall, was the Princess. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face at seeing her after such a horrible class.

Her eyes met mine, flashing brightly.

“I hear my little pet gave a speech today,” she commented as she pushed herself from the wall and walked lazily towards me. I gulped.

“It wasn’t a speech, Ma’am,” I whispered as she reached me, and I saw her nostrils flare as she subtly scented me.

“Tell me what it was then,” she instructed, and I fell into step beside her as she led us down the corridors.

I hesitated a moment and saw the Princess look down at me from my peripheral vision as we walked.

“A girl was mean to me,” I started and I looked up at the Princess but quickly looked away when I saw her smile and eyebrows raise in surprise. “The lesson was so ridiculous. They wanted us to eat rice in the oddest, most ridiculous way, and I couldn’t remember where the forks were supposed to go, and she kept saying…things to me.” I paused and looked back at the Princess, her eyes were shining with mirth.

“What things did she say?” she encouraged, I felt like I wanted a great big hole to open in the ground and swallow me whole right there and then. I felt so stupid when I was no longer upset and retelling what happened.

“She said you found me in a cave and I eat with my hands. So, I told her there was a whole country where we don’t all have so much food that we play with it.” I paused, looking up at the Princess, and while there was still mirth in the liquid silver that met me, there was something else too—a contemplation, on what I didn’t know. “It wasn’t a speech, Ma’am,” I finished looking away.

“No, not a speech, I agree,” she said, pausing, and I looked up at her waiting for her to continue. “But what you said is very problematic. It could be construed by some as my own servant being upset with Borealis rule,” she explained.

“How, Ma’am?” I asked, not knowing how what I said could have possibly meant such a thing.

The Princess stopped and looked down at me with a thoughtfulness I wasn’t used to seeing on her face.

“The lower classes don’t tend to concern themselves with politics; they are not encouraged to ask questions. There are those amongst the nobility that would like to cause chaos; they want to see a change in our systems and ways of life. They do not like the current setup,” she explained. It didn’t make much sense to me; all I knew of politics was the civil war, and that wasn’t politics—it was history. “You need to be careful that you do not unknowingly give the wrong message about where your allegiance lies,” she said softly, and I realised that we were speaking quietly. Only a few students passed us in the corridor. She leaned in towards me, a little closer. “Tell me, pet, where do your allegiances lie? Who do you belong to?” she asked me.

“I belong to you,” I whispered. She was so close her breath fanned against me. “My allegiance is with you,” I answered.

She pulled back and smiled down at me. “Don’t forget that you’re mine, Percy,” she said before continuing to walk, and I followed after her.

7. Do People Still Fight With Swords?

“My next class is physical and requires a change of clothes,” the Princess said as we walked through a busy gym.

“I thought your next class was Warfare Tactics?” I asked, confused, pulling the class schedule from my pocket and double-checking as we walked.

“It is,” she answered as she held open a door and I walked under her outstretched arm.

I stopped in my tracks when I looked around the room. The walls were lined with varying types and designs ofarmour?

“What in the... is this, are these costumes?” I asked, even more confused.

There was a delicate laugh from the Princess as she walked past me, and began selecting pieces with an ease that suggested she had done this many times.

“For some, this is nothing but dress up,” she said amused.

I watched her as she selected a pair of leather gloves and some sort of body armour that offered cover only to her chest andback. She also selected a tactical-looking arm-and-elbow guard combination.

She turned to me holding out her chosen items.

“Carry this for me,” she commanded, and I put my arms out for her to transfer the items.

I then followed her through another door to a changing room area with lockers and stalls. She walked over to a locker with a combination lock and opened it, pulled out a sports bag, closed it behind her, and walked over to a stall.

She turned to look at me where I stood, and impatiently said, “Are you going to stand there or bring the armour and help me?”

“You mean to go into the stall with you?” I asked stepping forward cautiously.

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