Page 63 of Maid for the Alien Prince

Camila and I returned to the palace where we caught the servants snoozing on the sofas and chairs, clearly enjoying their free time without having to be constantly watched by me or bow with respect.

Upon seeing me return, they snapped to attention, their cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

I waved off their concern. “You deserve the time off.”

“Would you like us to wake Chef?” a servant asked.

“That won’t be necessary. Just bring us whatever leftovers we have.”

Camila removed her gloves and disappeared into the bathroom to splash some water on her face. When she returned, she was more energetic but her exhaustion was clear in her eyes.

“How do you think today went?” I asked.

“Fine. These farmers are onboard. But they’re the easy ones. They never gave up, although I was surprised at just how close many of them were to it.”

I nodded, sensing the betrayal keenly, even if Camila had not intended to mean it that way. “How difficult do you think it will be to get the other farmers to return?” I asked.

Camila shrugged. “We’ll just have to see and do our best. That’s all we can ever do.”

The servants brought the food in—the leftovers of meals we’d consumed during the past two days. It was just what I wanted.

Although Camila wasn’t a fussy eater, there were certain Ulsen meal items that, as a human, she wasn’t used to.

When we finally turned in for the night, we shared a shower. The hot water eased my aching muscles—particularly those of my ass as they were not used to the saddle’s hard material.

Then we cuddled up close in bed, each of us too exhausted to act on the attraction we had for each other.

It was only in the middle of the night, after recovering a little from the day’s activities, while the meechara crickets were calling and the giant house groaned mournfully, that we awoke and made gentle love.

We immediately fell asleep again in each other’s arms. A perfect end to a perfect day.

* * *

The previous day, we asked each of the farmers what had become of those that had given up their farming lots.

They gave us all the information they could—in fact, when I asked, they refused to tell me anything, but once Camila or Acis asked, they relented and shared what they knew.

The vast majority of the former farmers were in the local town, having already found work. We made lists of names, positions, and company addresses. I had thought we would leave quickly, but Camila had a better idea.

She drafted a statement explaining the situation—how I had made a terrible mistake, that I had listened to Ges and really had no say in the running of the estate or the rising rent fees, and had been completely unaware of their effects. It was a poor excuse, but it was the truth.

It was the estate’s policy from now on to be totally transparent with the staff—both the farmers and those at the palace.

I wrote their name on the statements and signed each longhand, then added the stamp of the royal seal—as much as I hated it, I knew the royal family had a special place in some of the workers’ hearts.

I could use what few benefits that might afford me for now, but promised myself I would not make a habit of it.

It took all morning to sign the documents before we handed them to the palace staff who would have them delivered.

We had a big lunch, and then Camila stood up and said, “Are you ready to face the biggest challenge?”

I wasn’t sure. We would head into town and confront the workers face to face. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“With you by my side, I can do anything,” I proclaimed.

“That’s good, because some of the staff are not going to be as understanding as the farmers. The farmers are used to hard times with nature turning against them at a moment’s notice. The palace staff are much harder to appease.”

Great.

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