A PRINCESS IN DISGUISE; BOUND TO THE ENEMY KING

~Raven’s POV~

I knew she was furious. The sharp edge of her shoes clicked against the floor echoing like around us.

Servants scurried out of her way, pressing themselves agsinst the cold wall as though they were trying to disappear like frightened mice.

I knew, without a doubt, that I would be the one to bear the brunt of her rage.

It had become more frequent. Ever since leaving the throne room these past weeks, Princess Ellie had been coming back angry.

The doors to her chambers slammed shut behind us, and before I could so much as breathe, her voice broke out enraged.

“He gave her to him!”

She ripped the pins from her golden hair, throwing them onto the vanity with enough force that one rolled off and hit the floor. I didn’t dare pick it up.

“I should have known,” she seethed, pacing around the room. “I should have known that my father wouldn’t allow me even this.”

I remained silent, standing stiffly by the wall, my hands clasped in front of me. I had learned long ago that nothing I said in moments like this would soothe her, instead, it’d infuriate her even further.”

The Duke of Redvine. That was who she meant. The man she had admired from a distance for years, the only noble who had ever shown her kindness.

I had seen the way she looked at him, the way her eyes lit up whenever he acknowledged her existence. But tonight, King Alaric had made the announcement before the entire court, Duke Philip of Redvine was to be Celeste’s betrothed.

And Ellie had been forced to smile through it.

Now, I was her only outlet.

Her footsteps halted suddenly. When she turned, her blue eyes burned with hatred.

“It’s because of you.”

I stiffened. “Your Highness…”

“If your mother had taught you anything about etiquette, about how to serve properly, maybe I wouldn’t be the disgrace that I am.”

The words stung, but I forced myself to stay still.

My mother had once been a lady-in-waiting, just as I was now. She had served in the palace before I was even born, and for years, she had tried to instill in me the grace and composure required for such a role.

But Ellie was not like other princesses.

She was a storm, and storms did not like being contained.

She moved so quickly I barely had time to react.

Wham!

The first slap landed across my cheek, a sharp sting that burned into my skin. My head snapped to the side, but I didn’t move, didn’t cry out either.

This was the norm.

She struck me again.

And again.

The force of the last one sent me stumbling, my knees hitting the floor. Blood filled my mouth, but I swallowed it down.

I could fight back. I could strike her just as easily.

But what would happen to me if I did? What would happen when the guards dragging me away? Who whom take care my mother left alone in that tiny, damp cottage?

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

This was why I endured. This was why I kept my head down, even when every fiber of my being screamed at me to retaliate.

Ellie stood over me, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “You should be grateful,” she hissed. “Grateful that I even let you serve me.”

I said nothing.

This would pass. It always did.

Eventually, she sank onto the edge of the bed, her fury spent. I took that as my cue.

Ignoring the sharp ache in my limbs, I pushed myself to my feet. My movements were careful and precise, as if any sudden motion might set her off again.