Page 83 of Filthy Hot Prince

When other royals and guests came to meet grandma, I let myself dream about how it would feel to finally have my sight back after so many years. How it would feel to gaze at Khalid, look at his paintings and see him laugh. How it would feel to look at sunset and stars at night. To look at Zara’s smile and her beauty spot Khalid had mentioned. To see people’s emotions on their face instead of always guessing it by their tone.

Zara interrupted my stream of thoughts. “I am sorry, Valeria, I have to leave you in grandma’s hand. I have to go avoid the suitors who are actively trying to pursue me, so I will be in a hiding. I will see you again during the dinner!”

I accompanied grandma and her maid, hearing people gushing about the Sultan and his wife, blessing the unborn child with priceless gifts. Other people seemed to be more focused on asking if Zara had been betrothed to another prince or not, and whether Khalid had any relationship. Grandmother patted my hand when one female commented that he could be having a secret mistress as he was a prince and she would be the luckiest girl alive to have his attention, even physically.

“People will talk, no matter what you do. Don’t let those rumors get to you, dear Valeria,” she said.

I nodded, agreeing with her. It didn’t affect me, but I didn’t enjoy how anyone so openly judged the man I loved and cherished. Yes, he drank and used to sleep around and even got in a fight, but beneath all of that, he was just a man with a terrible past.

He felt ashamed and guilty for living when he killed his father, even though he did it to protect himself and his family. All I wanted to do was be with him and help him when he needed me. Embrace him, feel his muscles and body relax against me as he slept with his head on my chest, holding me close.

When grandma was busy greeting a royal guest, Tamara came up to me to ask me about Zara.

“Why?” I asked her, “What’s it about?”

“Someone wants to meet her in the palace library.”

I couldn’t exactly tell her that she was hiding away from suitors.

“I don’t know where she is, Tamara. Can you tell them to find and talk to her during the dinner?”

Tamara said, “Why don’t you come with me, Princess Valeria? I don’t want to defy the orders of a royal. I would be glad you are with me.”

“Oh, sure. We can take the guards with us.”

I informed grandma’s maid that I was going in a library even though unease filled my nerves. Why would someone want to meet Zara when cake cutting was about to happen? Maybe I was getting worried for no reason. Khalid had told me that the palace was littered with the guards and I had my personal guard with me.

The end of my cane tapped against the marble floors of the hallway. It smelt musty when Tamara walked me to the library. The air felt damp despite the scent of old books.

I couldn’t hear just one person. There were a lot of them. The hair on the back of my neck prickled when I heard someone groan with annoyance.

“Where’s the fucking princess? Who is this redhead?”

I backed away when I felt the stranger walk in my space, trying to touch my hair. “Don’t touch me,” I said, trying to keep my voice from panicking.

Stop.

No.

Please, it hurts.

But you are enjoying it, Val, aren’t you?

“She is Khalid’s mistress,” I heard Tamara reply, shock rippling through me.

What was she doing?

I heard him scoff. “We don’t want something that has been used. What happened to that Princess? He wouldn’t wantthis.”

I felt his disgusted stare on my body. I ignored the urge to cover myself and cower away, trying to find the door to the library. I needed to get out of there. They were talking about Zara, the Princess of Azmia, as if they had planned something conniving.

“I told you she disappeared as soon as she entered the Court Room,” Tamara complained.

Someone sneered close to me, roughly grabbing my arm. “Where the fuck do you think you are going? I always hated Khalid, so full of himself. We take her instead of the Princess, she is his lover after all.”

“Stop, help me!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, hitting the man with the cane.

He cursed, letting go of my arm as I made a dash towards the doors. “Help me! Help!” I screamed, trying to open the doors, struggling to find the handles.

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