To The Princess Bound by Sara King Page B

comprehension.  “Did you coerce me?” she demanded.  “Force me to relax with your powers?”  Yes, that’s what had to have happened.  The Emp had manipulated her.
    Dragomir laughed at her.  “With how exhausted I was yesterday?”  He snorted.  “Princess, I was passed out.  Completely.  You could’ve come up here and picked my nose with a fork and I would’ve slept through it.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him.  The thought of being compelled into sleeping beside a man was more acceptable to her than the idea of doing it by accident .  “You’re lying,” she stated firmly.
    But he wasn’t listening.  He was peering down at the bedding between his legs.  “You know, I was thinking about it while you were snoring, and we could fashion some sort of sarong out of one of the sheets.” 
    “I was not ‘snoring,’” she cried.
    “Okay, Princess.  You were ‘expelling large quantities of air through the back of your throat while you painstakingly created a puddle of saliva on the stone under your face.”  He chuckled.  “But honestly, a sarong would make us both feel better.  A sheet is a hell of a lot better than getting paraded around stark-ass naked with an entire kingdom to gawk at you.”
    “I’m not wrapping a sheet around you,” Victory blurted.  The mere thought of getting that close to him left her trembling.
    He shrugged.  “Then have your Praetorian do it.  They opened the door this morning to check and see if you were alive, and if I was being a good boy.  Gods those women scare me.  Like looking into the eyes of a phoenix.”
    “The phoenix is their emblem,” Victory said.  “The female units, anyway.  The males use the dragon.  Combined, the phoenix and dragon is the symbol of the Imperium.  It’s an ancient symbol, borrowed from the ancient empire of—”
    Dragomir grunted.  “You ready for some food?”  The way he said it, he was about as interested in Imperial symbology as he was in paying taxes.
    Victory’s eyes narrowed and she sniffed.  Now that he mentioned it, she was hungry.  Her gaze once again fell upon his big body and she swallowed and quickly averted her eyes.  “I’ll call my maidservants,” she said.  She turned over her shoulder and called for Kiara.
    “Speaking of that, funny how you never got those records you wanted, isn’t it?”
    Victory frowned, even as Kiara stepped into the room, towels and clothes in hand, flanked by Jolene and Carrie, Victory’s two handmaidens.  The thought, however, was quickly shattered the moment she realized what Kiara planned to do.
    “I’m not in the mood for a bath,” she said, quickly glancing at the huge brute sitting upon her bed.  And, for that matter, she wasn’t in the mood to change, either.  Grimacing, she said, “Leave me in my current garb, brush my hair, wash my hands and feet, and bring me some slippers.”
    Kiara frowned slightly, but with one look at the massive slave, she bowed low.  “As you command, milady.  Will you be requiring your medications?”
    “Please,” Victory said, grateful to have the women in the room with her.  “With a glass of orange juice.”
    Her servant flushed.  “I meant at breakfast, milady.  I have been given strict instructions that no edible substances of any form to enter your bedchamber.  The Adjudicator…”
    Damn, Victory thought.  She sighed.  “Very well.  Tell the cook to have my breakfast prepared within the hour.  I fancy duck eggs.  Soft boiled.  Sausages.  Elk, I think.  The bison had an unpalatable flavor last time.  A cup of hazelnut and cinnamon coffee, foamed.  And one of those pastries she does so well…the ones with the lemon filling?”
    “And him?” Kiara said, nodding at Dragomir, who was watching them alertly, but with a tiny frown of uncertainty.  “Will your slave be fed this morn?”
    “Take my meal and double it for him,” Victory said.  Then she looked him up and down and said, “Make that