The King's Lover
Chapter 33: Keep Her Shame?

Chapter 33: Keep Her Shame?

Rose lifted her head, wiping her face. She couldn’t remain on the floor. She didn’t know how long she could stay in his chambers, but it was best not to push it. She also couldn’t let the crown prince catch her here. She gathered herself but mentally and physically, even though she’d rather the ground opened and swallowed her. fr\(e)ew(e)b.(n)o (v)(e)l.com

Rose stood to her feet, using the wall for support. She bent down to pick up her dress. It was a mess, having been slit right through the middle. The ends were in even worse shape, as he had ripped it. How could he do that to her clothes? How was she supposed to leave his room now? Did he not consider that?

Rose looked around, but she knew better than to pick anything from the wardrobe or the room. Right now, a pillowcase would do better than the clothes she had on, but unfortunately, the torn dress was all she had.

She picked up the dress and wrapped it around her body as best as she could. Where she could tie it, she tied; other parts, she gripped with her hand. Satisfied that the dress would make it to the servants’ quarters, Rose slowly made her way out the door.

The guards were polite—or perhaps they just didn’t care. Neither mattered; she was just glad they had the decency not to stare. She walked briskly, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact. She did her best not to think about the marks on her body that wouldn’t let her forget what had just transpired. Rose got to the stairs and would have taken them two at a time if she could open her legs a little more.

Aside from being sore, she had wrapped the dress in such a way that it was tight—the only way she could cover up the rip. It wasn’t much of a dress at this point and just looked like she had wrapped a piece of cloth around herself, but at least it was better than walking through these halls naked.

Rose heard voices as she got close to the bottom of the stairs. She raised her head a little to see who it was and where they were going, as she didn’t want to bump into anyone. Rose tripped. She lost her footing, miscalculating as she took the next step. With only one hand free, she couldn’t catch herself in time and fell forward, landing face-first on the Queen’s shoes.

"You!" she heard, followed by a kick aimed at her face.

Rose only managed to avoid this because she was already scrambling to her knees as fear, horror, and dread bubbled up, tasting like she drank a cup full of bile. "I am so sorry, Yer Majesty, I tripped," she tried to explain. fre ewe bnove l.com

However, even as she apologized, Rose feared the worst. Martha had said something about being whipped and thrown into the dungeons. Rose wanted neither. She doubted she could bear any of it. She had only just been whipped the day before; her back was still very sore, and now it wasn’t just her back—her entire body burned, with the worst pain concentrated in her core.

She put her head to the floor, seeking mercy, and that was when she realized she had spoken directly to the Queen. In her panic, she had addressed the Queen. Rose’s eyes watered. Did she do something in her past life that would warrant this much suffering? She couldn’t seem to catch a break.

A hand gripped her hair and pulled upward. Rose silenced the scream that almost escaped her lips. She instinctively reached for her hair with her free hand, but another hand yanked her arm away.

"How dare you touch the Queen with your filthy body? You whore!"

It was one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, and the person holding her hand was the second one. The ladies who followed the Queen everywhere. As soon as Rose met eyes with her, she was smacked across the face. "How dare you look me in the eye?"

"Does she think she’s special because the crown prince brought her here? You’re nothing more than a peasant. Know your place!"

The two women shared a smile, and the one who held her arm reached for Rose’s poor attempt at a dress. Her intent was obvious. Rose’s eyes widened in horror. "No, please don’t," she cried, trying to stop them.

"It’s what you get for being disrespectful to the Queen of Velmount," the one still pulling her hair said.

The Queen stepped back, neither stopping nor furthering the situation, but it was clear she approved. The little smile on her face was unmistakable.

Rose didn’t care about the burning pain in her scalp anymore. Saving what was left of her dignity was far more important. She wrapped her arm around herself, but the woman pulled her hand away, and Rose was already too weak to struggle, coupled with the pain from her scalp.

The lady-in-waiting was vicious, and she grabbed a part of the cloth and pulled. Rose felt the dress slip out of her hands. There were guards all around them. She was already in a revealing state, and now she was about to be put on display for all to see. Couldn’t she at least keep her shame?

"What is going on here?" Caius asked as he strode into the space with Rylen by his side and the steward in front of him.

"Son!" the Queen cried, walking toward him. "I was looking for you."

Rylen and the steward both had horrified looks on their faces. The ladies didn’t stop what they were doing and seemed to enjoy the fact that they had more of an audience.

Caius brushed his mother aside and asked again, his voice laced with anger. "What is going on here?"

"Oh, the commoner you brought into the castle was disrespectful to me."

Caius glanced at his mother. He didn’t believe a word she said, and he doubted Rose had been disrespectful. She had tears spilling down her face, and he knew she couldn’t stand him, but right now, she was looking at him like he was the angel who would save her. No, she was looking at Rylen. Caius couldn’t understand why that annoyed him.

"Let her go this instant!" he commanded.

"Son," the Queen said. "Are you going to let her be disrespectful to your own mother?"

He walked to where Rose knelt on the floor, and the ladies-in-waiting scattered, releasing her hair and her dress. He stopped directly in front of her and stared down.

Rose was scared. The Queen had just accused her of being disrespectful. There was no way she would get off with just a warning, and now she had dragged the crown prince into it. She clutched at her ripped dress. The only person she hoped would come to her rescue hung back.