Page 59 of The Princess's Pet

A small figure lay in a large bed. The raven-haired man looked pale and emaciated.

“Father?” the Princess spoke sitting at the side of the bed, placing the back of her hand against his head. There was no answer from the King though his eyes were red and open.

“He has a fever,” the Princess said turning to Lady Sana.

“Nothing we give him is working and he refuses magical remedies,” Lady Sana replied, repeating her earlier words.

“He doesn’t seem capable of refusing anything. He seems entirely unaware that his daughter is by his side,” the Princess replied.

“He has moments of lucidity. Brief they are, but his Royal Highness has made it clear, that no magic is to be used. He believes his illness and your mothers to be the products of witchcraft and does not trust magic-led healing,” Lady Sana explained. “I will not be the fool that disobeys my King.”

“Will you be the fool who disobeys your future Queen?” the Princess questioned. “Do whatever it takes to lower his fever at the very least. Maybe then he’ll be lucid enough to tell me himself that he refuses magic-led healing.”

Lady Sana pursed her lips but nodded her agreement.

The Princess held her father’s hand for a few minutes before standing from the bed.

“When I next visit with my father, I expect to see improvement in his condition Lady Sana, or I will find your replacement,” the Princess warned.

“I’ll do my best,” Lady Sana confirmed.

I followed behind the Princess as she guided us expertly back through the castle to her wing.

17. Secret Gardens and Wrist Cuffs

The Princess led me to the drawing room of her wing. It was a large room with plush cream sofas and a glass coffee table. White chandeliers decorated the ceiling, and a painting of the Princess with her father and mother was a centrepiece of the main wall.

“I have some more tasks to take care of, pet. This is my private drawing room. You may stay here if you please or you may explore the castle. Word of who you are will spread quickly. No doubt you have been the focus of talk among the servants since our arrival,” she told me as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug.

I could feel as she breathed deeply into our embrace, the rise and fall of her chest and her slowly calming heartbeat. It wasn’t clear to me before then that the Princess was so tense, until I felt her begin to relax against me.

All too soon she pulled away from me. “I may be a few hours. If you leave my wing, I expect to find you back here in time for a formal evening meal,” she instructed and I couldn’t help my slight panic.

“You mean, a meal with a thousand forks?” I asked. She grinned at me her hand coming up to run through my hair.

“Not quite a thousand,” she replied teasingly. “If you get confused you can always forego silverware altogether,” she continued her lips quirking up playfully.

“So you and all the fancy purebloods can make fun of me? ‘Look at the commoner that doesn’t know that fork number 58 should only be used for peas!’” I mocked and did an awful impression of how the Royals and nobles spoke. My terrible impression was rewarded with light laughter from the Princess.

“Was that meant to be me, pet?” she asked.

I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not an impressionist, but I think that was a pretty accurate imitation of…” I squealed as she picked me up and threw me onto one of the sofas. The next moment she was atop of me, pinning me to the cushions.

“Pet, pet, pet. How brave of you to mock me.” She purred against my ear. My hands gripped her waist.

“It seems to be paying off,” I told her trying to keep my breath even.

“Hmmm, it was a ploy to find yourself under me,” she continued pressing her weight into me, her lips brushing my ear.

“It, it, is nice here,” I stuttered, breathing quicker. She laughed against my neck, pressing her lips to my pulse point.

“Is it now?” she asked before nipping at my skin.

“Uh huh,” I answered in the affirmative, finding it difficult to form words, my eyes closing and pushing myself up against her.

“Regrettably, pet, I have business to take care of,” she said and lifted herself from me. I whined in protest as her weight was removed and I tried to keep a grip on her waist. She removed my hands easily, tutting as she did so.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” I huffed sitting up. I was beginning to think getting me all hot and bothered and squirmy and then leaving me wanting, was part of some evil plan.

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