LUCIA, THE SLAVE PRINCESS

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lucia stared out the window, fascinated at the falling snow. She opened the glass window and put her hand out to catch a drifting flake, seeing its incomparable beauty for only a brief moment before it melted upon her palm.

She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she blinked them away, leaning against the stone window to stare out into the wind driven snow that whirled and drifted as though the wind was trying to comfort her, as though the goddess herself felt her confusion and pain.

Her earlier discussion with Lestor had left her confused and frightened in equal measure. Her whole life she always dreamed of something better, of being accepted, of being loved.

And she had found that here. She was accepted by most, and she had earned that herself through her own actions, her own merits. And love? She had found Lestor. How long this relationship might last was anybody’s guess, but Lucia’s heart had begun to open to the big, gruff man who ruled the army. There was so much more to Lestor than most people knew. His ability to sing, which Lucia had literally pried out of him. His voice…dear gods, that voice.

Lucia shivered when she remembered. That voice did the most delightful things to her. Her body and mind had opened to s****l gratification, to something that made her body soar and calmed her mind with the afterglow.

When she lay in Lestor's arms, night after night, she could not believe her newfound luck. There was a peace in his embrace that she had never encountered before. And perhaps never would again.

Because for her, Lestor was… her everything.

She drew a deep, shuddering sigh. She had prayed to the goddess to make her worthy of Lestor, to make her more interesting enough to keep the older man’s attention.

That's why for her, it seemed so cruel, to have this sudden turnaround. Even though, it's always been her dream, that one day she would discover that she was actually from another family, one that could love her as she was, it's still doesn't mean that she want it to happen now when she's not yet ready. Although, her dream had kept her sane, and soothed the aching sorrow that filled her whole being at the treatment she received from those who called her kin before, now though, she realized that there were others out there, who was supposedly her family, who would want her for her bloodline. Not for her, not for who she was, but for a title she could have no concept or understanding of.

A princess? She was no princess. She carried far too many scars and too much fear to ever be someone as noble and brave as that.

And what did they have to offer her? Some kin that she did not know. A family she had no idea she had. But here, she had friends of a sort. Silas certainly, perhaps even Talos, and some of the younger men and women, who were just emerging from their youth, that seemed to accept her more readily than the older ones. She was just beginning to make her way here, find a niche that was all her own.

And she had Lestor. For now.

Yet the general had not shown the slightest sign of wishing this strange relationship to be over. His caresses in the light of day, his demand of Lucia’s presence in his bed, pulled close to him through the night. Those did not seem to be the actions of someone who only had s*x in mind.

Lucia was actually terrified to even imagine more, that perhaps, just perhaps, this might be something greater, something… more..

She made a sound in her throat, tossing her head as though to drive away her foolish thoughts. To create a fantasy of love in what was occurring was to ask for heartbreak.

There was nothing in her worthwhile enough to hold so great a man as General Lestor. Meanwhile, she was young, foolish, and she still could not look into a mirror without shuddering and slanting her gaze away.

Her color was… odd.. Different..

Elven Tribe. Lucia had known her mother was of that tribe, had known she had the blood in her veins, but it had meant very little when she viewed how she had been treated over the years because of it. Of course, no one had known she was royal…

Lucia growled under her breath, pushing aside that consideration with impatience.

What in the hells made her think that would make a difference? How would that have changed things?

Perhaps they would have ransomed her back to his family for coin. Perhaps she would never have had to undergo the tortures she had.

But then, she would never have met Lestor.

Lucia sagged against the cold stone, welcoming its chill to clear her dark thoughts. It was no use to go over the past. It was gone.

For good or bad, she had walked her path to this place—and she had no desire to leave it. It was the most home she had ever encountered, and to imagine it taken from her, her own will once more would mean nothing… her tears welled again.

See, no princess here. Only a slowly healing soul that wished to be left alone. Now, when the desire of a fantasy rescue had long since been destroyed, she felt almost—angry—at this sudden revelation.

Who were these people to disturb her newfound contentment, her slow growing acceptance here?

She paused, stricken. Rolan had called her princess. That could only mean her father, the king, was still alive. The thought of having a father made her shudder with fear, now that she was healing from Val’s treatment. To have another figure with authority over her, who would no doubt hate her in the end, gave her the chills. She could not do this.

Dear sweet Goddess, she could not.... Not again...

________________________________________________