The Imperial Kings Series 1: Enslaved by the King

SABINA

The kiss caught me off guard. I tried to wriggle free, to escape, but it was futile. Aboloft had me in a firm grip, leaving me no choice but to surrender to the kiss.

His lips were insistent, commanding. The same lips that often broke into a smile were now claiming me, stirring up unfamiliar, dormant emotions within me.

Those lips that once whispered secrets were now prying my lips apart, causing my heart to flutter with a strange sensation.

I had secretly wondered what it would feel like to have Aboloft’s lips on mine, but I had quickly dismissed the thought. The idea was absurd and would only lead to heartbreak.

But now, half-sitting, half-lying in Aboloft’s lap with his mouth consuming me, the idea was no longer just a thought, but a reality. And yet, it left me utterly confused.

This was wrong. And as soon as he let go of my lips, I would tell him so. He was the King of Quopia and I was just a slave.

He was of royal blood, while I was a commoner. His veins carried blue blood, while mine carried ordinary blood.

By the time he let go of my lips, I was gasping for breath. As soon as his lips left mine, the pain in my hands and legs came rushing back.

It felt like a thousand arrows were piercing my skin, slowly killing me. How did his kiss make the pain disappear? How could one kiss have such a profound effect on me that I forgot my own suffering?

I mean, it had comforted me in the past, but even now? His kiss made me feel so much better, and I knew if he continued this, he would soon capture my heart and mind as well.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I snapped, glaring at him.

“You can’t stop me, my beautiful goddess.” Aboloft stroked my cheek with his thumb. “I am going to do everything you deprived me of, and so much more.” He whispered the last part, leaning down until his lips brushed against my earlobe.

“We were friends, nothing more. And friends don’t kiss each other,” I told him, the anger momentarily distracting me from the pain.

“You might think that, Bluebell, but I don’t.

“Now you will know exactly what I felt for you all those years ago, and seeing you again after eight years has only intensified those feelings,” he declared. His thumb continued to gently stroke my cheek.

“I understand you don’t care about me, but at least worry about your position,” I hissed.

Aboloft frowned, confusion clear in his dark eyes. “My position?”

“Yes. What would the people of Quopia say when they find out you have been consorting with a slave, and that too, a woman who has been accused of being a witch?” I asked him.

“You think I care about what people think?” His thumb was now tracing my lower lip, and that simple action made my heart race.

“If you don’t care about the people, at least care about your position.

“If you don’t care about the people, think about your parents who worked hard for this kingdom, and you want to destroy that by consorting with a peasant?” I was grateful for the anger coursing through my veins.

I no longer felt the searing pain in my hands and legs, and telling Aboloft that what he was doing was wrong in every way helped me ignore the occasional twinge of pain.

His hand moved from my face to my neck, where he wrapped his fingers around my throat. His eyes flashed with anger before a guarded expression took over.

I knew what I said had angered him. I just hoped it made him angry enough not to kiss me again.

“Eight years ago, I would’ve done whatever you asked of me. But not anymore.

“Now I am going to do what I want, and I don’t care if the whole of Quopia stands outside the castle walls with torches and pitchforks, objecting to our union. I am going to do what I should’ve done instead of letting you go.”

Before I could respond, the door to my cell opened, and a guard entered with a woman who looked to be in her late thirties.

Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun, and her green eyes were faded with tiny wrinkles radiating from the corners.

“My lord, you requested my presence,” the woman said, her head bowed in deference.

Aboloft nodded, but his gaze shifted to the guard standing next to the woman.

“Leave us,” he commanded the guard, who quickly bowed and exited the cell. Once the guard was gone, he turned back to the woman who had just arrived.

“My slave is injured. I want you to tend to her, make sure nothing happens to her. There is plenty of glass in the wound, and you must remove all of it. Not a single shard should remain.

“And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, it will be your head on the pole, am I clear?” His voice was that of a ruthless king who wouldn’t hesitate to skin his victims alive.

The woman nodded, but I could see she was scared. Her trembling lower lip betrayed her fear, and I felt sorry for her. Working under Aboloft’s rule must’ve been tough.

“Where do you want me to work?” the woman asked.

In response, Aboloft stood up with me still in his arms. “Follow me.”

My heart raced as Aboloft left the cell and carried me further down the dark corridor. How he could see in this darkness was beyond me, and yet I couldn’t help but wonder where he was taking me.

I had long ago given up trying to see in the darkness and instead waited anxiously as Aboloft continued walking. Was he going to give me a comfortable place to sleep? Would he no longer keep me in the cell?

My patience wore thin when suddenly, a door opened and Aboloft stepped inside.

The room was the exact opposite of the outside, with torches blazing in their holders and candles placed on the tables, adding to the warm glow of the room.

The room had the feel of a hospital ward. Single beds were arranged neatly, each separated by maroon curtains. But there was one bed that stood out. It was larger, situated in the center of the room, and surrounded by curtains on all sides. The bedding was a rich mix of gold and red, fit for a king.

Aboloft gently laid me down on one of the beds. I glanced around, noticing a chest of drawers filled with unknown items.

He then moved to the center bed, his black robe flowing behind him, and took a seat.

A woman, who I assumed was a healer, approached my bed. She opened the drawers and began to pull out bandages, cotton, and other tools I didn’t recognize, along with bottles of some sort of liquid.

She closed the drawers and turned to me. “My lord, should I start with her hands or feet?” she asked.

“Her feet. There’s more glass there,” Aboloft responded.

I stole a glance at him, his dark eyes focused on me. I quickly looked away, trying to suppress the emotions welling up inside me. Instead, I focused on the healer, who was now examining my feet with a look of shock and concern.

“My Lord…this is too much. Removing all this glass will be difficult,” she stuttered.

“I don’t care. You’re going to remove every shard of glass, even if it takes you a week,” Aboloft declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“There’s too much blood, and removing all this glass will be painful for her. It might even be dangerous to her health, my lord,” she responded timidly.

Aboloft was by my side in an instant. “Do you have anything that will numb the pain?”

The healer looked regretful. “Yes, my lord, I do,” she answered.

“Give her that. How long will the medicine last?” he asked.

“A day, my lord.”

“Good. Give it to me,” Aboloft demanded, extending his hand.

The woman hesitated for a moment before returning to the chest of drawers. After a minute, she handed a bowl of powder to the king.

“Make her sit up,” Aboloft ordered, as he began to mix some water in a cup.

I was confused by Aboloft’s behavior. He was the one who had hurt me, and now he was the one taking care of me?

His mood swings were making my head spin. I wished he would just be cruel to me. It would be easier to accept than all this.

His kindness only brought back memories of when he used to watch over me, worrying even if I got a small cut.

“Be careful, Bina!” Aboloft caught me before I fell, but my foot twisted, causing me to cry out in pain.

We were playing near the lake. Aboloft was chasing me as I ran. But just as I was about to round the giant rock that sat in the middle, my foot twisted, and I would’ve fallen in the lake if Aboloft hadn’t caught me.

“Let me go. My foot!” I cried out.

Aboloft made me sit on a rock while he bent down to examine my foot. He gently held my ankle between his hands, his thumb caressing it.

“Where does it hurt, Bluebell?” Aboloft asked, concern shimmering in his dark eyes.

“There.” I pointed at my ankle, which was starting to go red.

Without a word, Aboloft raised my ankle to his face and planted a soft kiss on my ankle. Shocked, I pulled my ankle from his grasp and stood up, frantically looking around for anyone who might’ve seen us.

“Don’t do that. It’s not right,” I scolded my best friend.

“Is it better now?” Aboloft asked, ignoring my statement.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then I’ll keep doing it. I’ll always kiss your pain away, Bina,” he said.

I looked into his eyes to see if he was lying, but all I saw was sincerity.

“You must not do this, Aboloft. What if somebody saw us?”

If someone saw the Prince of Quopia kissing the ankle of a farmer’s daughter, it wouldn’t be good for Aboloft. He was a royal, he had a reputation to uphold, and I couldn’t tarnish it.

“So what, Bluebell? You’re my best friend,” he argued.

“Yes, but you don’t understand. If somebody saw us—”

“Am I important to you, Sabina?” Aboloft asked, stepping closer until only a few inches separated us.

I nodded. “You are the most important person in my life,” I told him, and he was.

My mother was no longer in this world, and my father always wished for a different daughter; so Aboloft was my only friend, he was my everything, even though it was wrong for us to be together.

Aboloft placed his hands on my shoulders. “Then don’t worry about the world. Stop caring what people say.” After those words, Aboloft pulled me into his embrace, taking away all my pain and worries for the time being.

“Open your mouth.” Aboloft’s words brought me back from my reverie. I looked up to see him holding two pills and a cup of water.

Without any argument, I opened my mouth, allowing Aboloft to drop the pills in my mouth before he tipped the glass, letting cool, refreshing water flow down my throat, washing down the pills.

Once I swallowed the pills, Aboloft placed the cup back on the table, and gently made me lie down again.

I watched as the healer picked up a metal instrument. She sat down on a chair and brought my right foot to her eye level.

“How long until the medicine starts to take effect?” Aboloft asked, placing a hand on my head.

“Immediately. Can I start now, my lord?”

“Yes. You may begin. Make sure no glass is left inside,” Aboloft replied curtly.

The next thing I heard was the tinkling of glass being dropped in a metal container. The medicine must’ve been working, because I didn’t feel a twinge of pain.

I watched the doctor as she carefully removed pieces of glass from my foot. The sight of blood didn't faze me.

As she worked, my thoughts wandered back to Aboloft. His kisses had always been my painkiller. They had the power to erase any discomfort, and it seemed that hadn't changed, even after all these years apart.

His kisses still worked their magic. No matter the intensity of the pain, it would disappear under his touch, replaced by a soothing warmth.

Even now, as his lips met mine, the pain seemed to evaporate for the duration of our kiss.

I looked up to find Aboloft watching me. My heart tightened at the familiar worry and tenderness in his eyes, the same look he'd always given me when I was hurt.

I wasn't looking at the King of Quopia. I was looking at my best friend. This was the same Aboloft who had always cared for me. I thought I'd lost him, but here he was, stroking my hair.

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I pushed them back. That was the past; things were different now.

Aboloft and I could never be together. The people of Wilsden had made that clear eight years ago, and the scars on my body and soul served as daily reminders.

Life had a way of showing me just how much it could hurt. I wondered when the pain would finally end. It didn't stop eight years ago, and it hadn't stopped now.

When would it stop?