His Hidden Desire (18+)

Chapter 19

Hurrying to their chambers, Danaë shut the door behind her, leaning against it as her heart pounded in her ears.

"Do you think they'll defend you?"

Horror crawled over her skin, hot and slimy, leaving disgust in its wake.

Closing her eyes, she could see it happening, see the boots surrounding her as she lay on the ground, broken and bruised-

No. I don't want to see this - why are you making me see this?

Danaë clutched her head in her hands, sinking down to the floor, her breathing rapid and shallow.

I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't want this...

The refrain ran through her thoughts without end, a frantic prayer to her god - the god of her parents, the god who'd selected his Chosen among men and given him gifts-

-gifts that he had passed down.

Because this image, this nightmare wasn't mere fancy-

-it was premonition.

Her vision narrowed as the room swam around her, fading into nothingness.

The light was dimmer, colder as the knocking woke her.

"Milady?"

Danaë sat up, dizzy and dazed.

"Milady?"

Struggling to rise, Danaë leaned heavily against the door, slowly coming to stand.

Composing herself, she called out, "Yes?"

Out in the hall, a maid replied, "I'm to tell you that dinner will be served within the hour."

The hour?

Danaë looked around, wondering how long she'd lain there.

"Oh," she brushed off her bodice, "thank you."

"Do you need any assistance?"

She swallowed, shaky on her feet, "Some clean water, please - I'd like to wash my face."

"Right away, Milady."

Stumbling over to a chair, Danaë sank down, trying to collect herself. Every muscle in her body ached, and a thin sheen of sweat coated her skin.

Danaë clutched her arms to her chest, trying to soothe the sharp ache that throbbed there.

When the maid returned, Danaë answered her knock with a faint, "Enter."

Quiet and efficient, she brought in a silver ewer and bowl, along with a small stack of linen towels. After arranging them on a side table, she stepped back and asked, "Will there be anything else, Milady?"

"Uh," Danaë glanced around the room, a thought occurring to her, "Do you know where King Cenric is? I haven't seen him since I woke."

"I believe that I heard him in the library when I passed by?"

"Oh," she murmured, "thank you. You may go."

Dismissed, the girl curtsied and left.

Alone, Danaë wiped the film of sweat off of her face, swiping a damp cloth along her neck and under her dress.

When she felt refreshed, she fixed her mussed hair in the looking glass that hung on the wall.

With trembling fingers, she reached for the door, spine tensing as she passed her guards.