Chapter Seven: A Pool of Misery

120K 6.8K 2.1K
                                    

"Would you like to know what I find most pleasant about you? Your body. Sure your face is nice, like the rarest flower, but I can see from the attire you wear during training that your curvy in just the right places. Very curvy. I don't know how my son can stand training you without taking you right in the snow."

The King's words were offensive, and had it been anyone else, I may have slapped them. The Prince had been right. The King who seemed so jovial and kind in front of his wife and onlookers was a cold, disgusting pig behind closed doors. I needed to remind him of his place.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I'm not sure the Queen would appreciate the way you are talking to me..." my voice trailed off.

"The Queen?" he laughed. "That old hag? She doesn't care what I do. That woman has never loved anyone but herself...not even her own son! No wonder he is the way he is."

"And what is that?" I asked, trying to keep his mind away from my body.

"He always has a different woman in his lair to try to fill whatever void that was created from his mother never being there. Instead, the Queen allowed the maids to raise our son while constantly rotating the them so that he would never become too attached to any of them. She didn't want him loving anything more than her. Sad to say, he didn't love her either. She put that void inside of him...and now my son is..."

The King blinked a few times and then looked around the room as if remembering where he was. His eyes then found mine. "I'm sorry, my lady, I can get so carried away in my thoughts. Where were we? Oh yes. Your body..."

"My body is my body and shouldn't be a matter of discussion unless I ask for it to be," I explained. "If there is nothing left to discuss Your Grace, I'd like to excuse myself."

The King's eyes turned cold, he quickly reached out to me, pulling me onto his lap. His hand squeezed the curve of my hip as his lips brushed against my ear. "I am your King, we will discuss whatever I please."

Just then, the double doors opened and static filled the air. I quickly pushed myself away from the King and stood, keeping my face hidden from the new guest. I knew how it must've looked to the Prince to see me sitting on his father lap. It was like the air itself was growing colder as each second passed by in silence.

"My son, what brings you here?" The King finally asked, and another moment of silence filled the air before the Prince spoke up.

"Why is Lady Anya here?" he asked. How could he tell that it was me? I'd done well to keep my face turned away. I was wearing a standard blue gown and my hair was pinned up same as many women. And yet he knew.

I turned to face him and I was sure my cheeks were redder than a single rose in the snow.

The Prince watched me with hawk eyes, not once lifting them to acknowledge his father. It was as if he was waiting for me to answer, and so I did.

"I was beckoned by the King, your highness," I explained, casting my eyes downward. I didn't mean to look guilty, and I was sure that I did. I just couldn't stand to meet his eyes.

"If you two are done with your...meeting, I'll escort you back to your rooms and then return to speak with my father in private."

"Yes, your highness." I quickly moved away from the King, grateful to have an escape, even if provided by the one that I did not like.

The Prince and I moved into the hallway and began walking down the dark passageway in silence. I didn't dare speak, not when his power seemed to suffocate me.

Maybe it wasn't his power...but his presence...
The Prince stayed oddly quiet the entire walk to my room. I dared to steal a glance at him and shunned myself the moment I had. His eyes were so cold that they seemed to glow a brilliant blue. I gulped.

He stopped a foot away from my door and watched me as I placed my hand on the knob, ready to run into my room.

"Lady Anya," he voice was surprisingly soft. I felt a strong desire to meet his eyes, and looked up at him. "Why were you on my father's lap?"

"Because I didn't have a say in the matter," I told him. "He pulled me down."

"Why didn't you stand again?"

"Like I had a choice in the matter. He is King!"
Prince Sebastian scoffed. "I knew you had no back bone. You're just like every other woman. So willing to let him run over you...and for what? Because he is King, or because it makes you feel special...more than a peasant? Well, I can make you feel special, if that's what you are looking for, My Lady."

The Prince pushed me against my door and came as close as he ever came. His body was pressed against mine, and I should've felt fear but instead I felt pleasure. My body felt more alive than ever and I had tingles in funny places.

"I don't see why my father even likes you. You have an average face, nothing that stands out to me. Your jawline isn't defined, and you have a little baby voice. It's so high pitched and annoying. When you talk, I grind my teeth."

"Then why are you so close to me?" I asked, turning my head toward him and found myself only centimeters from his nose. The Prince laughed once then pulled away.

"Stay away from my father."

"And what if I can't?" I asked. What if the King beckons me again? What would the Prince do about it? I didn't want to be in this situation. I couldn't handle it. "Your father...he scares me. If you don't want him near me, then help me. I have no power, but you do. Please...I know that you detest me, but I ask that if there is still any warmth left in you, please do help me."

The Prince turned and left me standing in a pool of misery. I guess I was alone in my fight...

 I guess I was alone in my fight

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
White FireWhere stories live. Discover now