and she knew she would worship this man
until her dying breath.
“Do you have anything in mind that you’d like to see?”
she asked as she pulled her glossy black hair over her shoulder,
exposing that long, olive neck.
She was in her thirties, far older than any of his other
concubines, yet that never stopped his dark gaze from passing over
her with such interest and desire. “Tell her to make you one of
my usuals,” he insisted, and she was reminded of the outfit all
the others had to wear, “but add some of the raven’s
feathers to a circlet and gold chain. Then have her make you a loose
gauzy robe. See-through,” he explained, eating as he talked.
“Adorned with more of my royal feathers.”
She realized the significance in that. Only him and his elite
guards, the ones who watched over his mother or protected him
specifically, wore such raven’s feathers on their garb. Her
heart pounded in her chest and she swallowed a lump. It was too much
of an honour, yet she knew not to question him. Instead her head
dipped in reverence and gratitude.
“Your Greatness, you honour me,” she breathed.
He had nothing more to say to her on that, and it wasn’t
until his breakfast was finished and he rose in his glorious majesty
to grasp his cloak that he spoke again. “The princess has asked
for you again,” he said simply, pulling the garment around his
shoulder, letting it drape over his arm as he looked down at her.
“I’ve told her it’ll take some time to find you,
as you were cast out into the masses when she dismissed you.” A
slow smile formed on his face, “I trust you can use that to
your advantage.” He touched his heavy hand to her head. “Go
see her once you’ve finished your tasks. Tread carefully.”
Fear gripped her but she nodded, “I live to serve you.”
She needed to do this, to succeed where she had failed before, and
her head leaned into his caress. “Thank you, Your Greatness.”
She knew his name. She knew his story.
It did nothing but make her respect for him grow, her
determination to please him solidified.
With a nod to her he left, the business of a God-King never
ending, she knew.
Her day went much as she was used to. A lifetime of serving a
needy, whining princess or another noble had prepared her for keeping
track of numerous tasks and managing it all in her limited time.
When the time came to visit the princess, she was able to find
some old rags akin to what the troubled masses of the city below were
forced to wear these days, and was ushered up to the princess’
room.
Let in, she was struck by how perversely decadent it was. Even
compared to before, this was over the top. The princess had been
showered with gifts, all the riches of the land and beyond to win her
affection.
Though seeing the slender, waif-like noble beauty come around from
her balcony, the look of distaste on her face said it hadn’t
done its trick. “Mirella!” she said, eyes wide as she
approached the woman. “Oh I am so sorry, I have missed you so
dearly!” She said, the female guard shutting the door behind
her and leaving them be.
Mirella hoped she looked stricken, the way she collapsed into the
Princess’ arms and let out a sob, “Princess!” She
angled herself to press that pregnant orb into the thin woman,
letting her feel the reality of what she’d let her servant
become. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
Even if she was trying to garner the Princess’s sympathy,
she realized the woman had little sympathy for those not herself and
that feeding into the Princess’ ego couldn’t hurt. “It’s
been such a misery out there without you to lead us,” she
whimpered.
Anabelle looked stricken and touched at once, putting her thin,
young arms about the older woman. “My poor Mirella,” she
cooed, “I am so so sorry...” And strangely enough she
almost sounded it. Almost. “Come in and have a seat,” she
invited, leading her to sit at the little breakfast nook chair.
She stroked
until her dying breath.
“Do you have anything in mind that you’d like to see?”
she asked as she pulled her glossy black hair over her shoulder,
exposing that long, olive neck.
She was in her thirties, far older than any of his other
concubines, yet that never stopped his dark gaze from passing over
her with such interest and desire. “Tell her to make you one of
my usuals,” he insisted, and she was reminded of the outfit all
the others had to wear, “but add some of the raven’s
feathers to a circlet and gold chain. Then have her make you a loose
gauzy robe. See-through,” he explained, eating as he talked.
“Adorned with more of my royal feathers.”
She realized the significance in that. Only him and his elite
guards, the ones who watched over his mother or protected him
specifically, wore such raven’s feathers on their garb. Her
heart pounded in her chest and she swallowed a lump. It was too much
of an honour, yet she knew not to question him. Instead her head
dipped in reverence and gratitude.
“Your Greatness, you honour me,” she breathed.
He had nothing more to say to her on that, and it wasn’t
until his breakfast was finished and he rose in his glorious majesty
to grasp his cloak that he spoke again. “The princess has asked
for you again,” he said simply, pulling the garment around his
shoulder, letting it drape over his arm as he looked down at her.
“I’ve told her it’ll take some time to find you,
as you were cast out into the masses when she dismissed you.” A
slow smile formed on his face, “I trust you can use that to
your advantage.” He touched his heavy hand to her head. “Go
see her once you’ve finished your tasks. Tread carefully.”
Fear gripped her but she nodded, “I live to serve you.”
She needed to do this, to succeed where she had failed before, and
her head leaned into his caress. “Thank you, Your Greatness.”
She knew his name. She knew his story.
It did nothing but make her respect for him grow, her
determination to please him solidified.
With a nod to her he left, the business of a God-King never
ending, she knew.
Her day went much as she was used to. A lifetime of serving a
needy, whining princess or another noble had prepared her for keeping
track of numerous tasks and managing it all in her limited time.
When the time came to visit the princess, she was able to find
some old rags akin to what the troubled masses of the city below were
forced to wear these days, and was ushered up to the princess’
room.
Let in, she was struck by how perversely decadent it was. Even
compared to before, this was over the top. The princess had been
showered with gifts, all the riches of the land and beyond to win her
affection.
Though seeing the slender, waif-like noble beauty come around from
her balcony, the look of distaste on her face said it hadn’t
done its trick. “Mirella!” she said, eyes wide as she
approached the woman. “Oh I am so sorry, I have missed you so
dearly!” She said, the female guard shutting the door behind
her and leaving them be.
Mirella hoped she looked stricken, the way she collapsed into the
Princess’ arms and let out a sob, “Princess!” She
angled herself to press that pregnant orb into the thin woman,
letting her feel the reality of what she’d let her servant
become. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
Even if she was trying to garner the Princess’s sympathy,
she realized the woman had little sympathy for those not herself and
that feeding into the Princess’ ego couldn’t hurt. “It’s
been such a misery out there without you to lead us,” she
whimpered.
Anabelle looked stricken and touched at once, putting her thin,
young arms about the older woman. “My poor Mirella,” she
cooed, “I am so so sorry...” And strangely enough she
almost sounded it. Almost. “Come in and have a seat,” she
invited, leading her to sit at the little breakfast nook chair.
She stroked
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