Submitting to the Orc King

Chapter 8: A Private Dinner

HENRIA

Dinner with Rokhar in his chambers?

The guard closes the door and I'm left alone to ponder what this means. It could just be dinner, of course. But then why in his private chambers?

It's a silly question, of course. I know why.

I lay down on the bed, my thoughts roiling. After all the discussion of royal heirs there's probably only one thing on his mind. And because we haven't been alone since the Claiming, he's probably using dinner in his private chambers as a chance to change that.

Of course, even mentioning the Claiming to myself makes me recall the details of the night. How he stalked around me like some sort of predator. How he used his thumb to bring me to such shocking pleasure. How his shaft felt in my hand, soft, yet rigid and strong. How he groaned when I touched him. I must have had some power over him, too, in that moment.

That tingle is once again filling my body, and I groan, turning over in bed and pressing my face down into the pillow. I take a few deep breaths, waiting for the feeling to subside, and when it does, I exhale and relax.

None of what may or may not happen at dinner this evening matters. I just need to keep my wits about me and remember my goals: finding a way to escape the keep so I can reach the harbor and the ships there.

That's the only way I will ever truly be free. So Rokhar can invite me to as many dinners as he wants. I will remain focused on my plan.

It's not until I hear a knock on the door and I gasp and sit up that I realize I've fallen asleep.

What was I thinking?! I shake my head, unable to come up with an excuse other than that I was seemingly tired. But I am supposed to keep my wits about me, and taking a midafternoon nap doesn't help me in the slightest. I could've been stealing supplies to hide in my bag or mapping routes, but no. Instead I had been snoring away.

Someone knocks again and I sigh. "Enter."

An older woman comes into the room, carrying a basket. "A gift from the king for dinner this evening."

She sets the basket on the ground, gives me a quick bow, and then leaves me alone in the room again. I sigh. The last thing I want are gifts from Rokhar but I might as well see what it is. I don't want to anger him.

Inside the basket is fabric. I pull it out and hold it up to find a dress. It's made of the softest buckskin I've ever felt, and across every inch of the leather are tiny diamonds. The garment is gorgeous. I strip off my dress and slip this one on, striding over to the crustal mirror. The dress looks even better on me than it did in my hands. The artistry is superb, and I twist and turn, trying to see every angle and enjoying how the diamonds catch the light with tiny sparkles. Lettie was right, too: the dress is shockingly comfortable, though I know it will take me some time before I stop feeling scandalously uncovered while wearing this style in public. Not that I will be here long enough to adjust.

I take a deep breath, unsure how I feel about this gift. I love the dress, but it's a gift from Rokhar and I don't love that. Of course, I need to play nice so I don't draw any attention to myself. I want all eyes off me, so no one notices what I'm really up to.

I give one more twist and feel a twinge of soreness between my legs. I was mostly comfortable all day, but there had been a few moments where I was reminded that my body had experienced something new.

Over on a shelf I find the little bottle that Lettie brought me this morning, before the coronation. She and the other women said it would help with soreness. Might as well give it a try.