The Cursed Kingdom

TWO

~ HIS BED ~

Out of the thousands of villages spread throughout the Human Kingdom's fifty-five provinces, Amaryllus was one of the poorest. With a population below two hundred, our economy depended greatly on the other villages. While they needed our handmade clothing, we needed their crops since the harsh cold of the northern mountains made it impossible to grow our own.

My mother, like her own, had been a seamstress. A fine one too. Although seamstresses were important to Amaryllus's survival, with nearly half the residents taking the said occupation, they never got paid enough to live a comfortable life.

I had grown up sleeping on a pile of straw with only a thin, scratchy sheet between it and me. It was seen as a luxury that I had something to sleep on at all with most having to subject themselves to sleeping on the floor or, like Tylem and Taylium did a lot, sleep in a hayloft.

The only people who had beds that stood up off the floor were the ladies and lords, Julius's family.

Despite the straw never being comfortable and sometimes rather annoying, it was home. It was my home and I loved every crack, every leak, and every flaw with every fiber that made up my body.

That's why when I finally regained consciousness, I knew I was dead.

The cloud I was lying on wasn't like anything my young and benighted brain could comprehend on its own. Soft and warm, I snuggled into it as close to it as it would allow me to, never wanting to open my eyes in fear that it would ruin my chances of ever achieving such heavenliness again.

A sigh of content escaped my lips, the sound foreign to me. The longer I stayed still, the more my whole body seemed to sink into the cloud, allowing it to mold perfectly to fit my body and ease all its tensions.

It even smelled good, like freshly washed linen and pine with a hint of something musky. Breathing it in greedily, I allowed the alluring scent to start slowly drifting me back to sleep, a part of myself silently hoping I would never wake again.

"I enjoy your scent too. I'm glad to see you find mine pleasant as well."

I shot up in terror, an embarrassing noise that sounded awfully like a mix between a scream and a gasp emitting from somewhere deep in my chest. Now in a tense seated position on the king-sized bed, I looked down at the grey sheets pooled in my lap and over to the man casually sitting in the dark corner, a book in hand, and the outline of reading glasses barely visible.

Noticing a bitter and distinct smell, I looked over at the small table next to his chair and to the steaming cup that sat on top.

"What the hell?" I breathed groggily, grasping my chest only to look down once more when my hand met an unfamiliar material. Bewildered, my eyes widened when I noticed that my body was clad in a light blue nightgown made of what I perceived as silk, a white lace trim along the end of the short skirt that barely covered my rear as well as the low 'V'-shaped collar that revealed the line of my cleavage. "Who the fuck put this on me?" I asked aloud, pulling the covers away to observe the gown some more.

Realizing the stranger was still in the room, I quickly pulled the covers over my chest, my face feeling hot and my cheeks pulsing a feverish beat. I was mortified. Never in my life had I worn anything so immoral, especially in front of a man.

"I did," he said in a bored tone, his deep voice the epitome of masculinity. I watched his large hands pick up the delicate-looking China cup, bring it up to his lips, and then place it back down on the little plate after he was done taking a long sip. There was a pause of silence. "Don't look at me like that. It's my right and my duty to clothe you."