Page 34 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

“Sorry.”

“I chose this fate,” I say, keeping it simple. Raneeda’s hands pause for a moment.

“You chose? Not them?”

“We both did. It doesn’t matter now. I’m with them.”

“Raneeda, she said it doesn’t matter. Still your tongue. You’re too used to gossiping while you work.”

“Sorry,” she says, again, but this time I can tell she’s rolling her eyes, and I have to suppress a laugh.

I shiver under her hands, trying to relax, but it’s impossible, Raneeda’s words echoing in my mind.

In the middle of the street.

Orr spanked me and toyed with my body in front of a crowd. It was shameful…but there was also thisedgeto the pleasure, like they possessed me so deeply they could do anything they wanted to me, anywhere they chose.

When I come out of the waters, I am a new woman. Nash hurries over with a cotton robe, which she insists on putting on me, as if I don’t have arms of my own. She wraps another towel around my hair and leads me into the room with the open door that I saw had a massage table.

It’s a cozy little room, with a chair in front of an ornate mirror. A sofa is against the wall. There’s a wooden shelf filled with lotions and products I’ve never seen before, what look like potions. One is in a glass vial that seems to be bubbling despite being sealed.

The mirror has a little table in front of it, with clippers and combs and other familiar supplies. There’s a straight razor on the table. For a split second, I think of grabbing it, just in case something happens.

But what would I use it for? Stabbing Orr if he tried to spank me again? Trying to cut a Scorp that somehow hid in the tower, unseen by the Aurelian squads?

Even with a weapon, I couldn’t do anything against what I’m up against. The only thing I can do to keep the odds in my favor is keep a sharp mind. I let Nash lead me to the chair. I blush as I see that she’s put a cushion on it. Neither of us mention it.

It lowers automatically and sit on it, comfortable and barely wincing.

Did the princess come here to have her hair done while one of her friends sat on the sofa and chatted idly with her? Did the queen get her make-up done here before a royal address?

Nash interrupts my thoughts by pulling the towel off my head. “You’ve got such beautiful, healthy hair. So thick. I’d kill for this,” says Nash, working her fingers through my tangled mass of wet curls. From above, hot air blows down, and she takes a comb, fighting through the stubborn knots. “What do you want me to do with it?”

I can’t help but laugh lightly. “I have no idea. I’ve been getting my hair trimmed the same way for the last nine years. A hard old woman name Letty always took care of it. She trimmed me in a businesslike fashion, like a farmer shearing sheep, and then moved on to the next servant girl who traded a day’s dessert for a haircut.”

“Mmm. You should grow it out. You’ll have beautiful curls.”

“I always just thought of it not getting into my eyes when I worked,” I say, the servant days like a mirage in my mind. I can remember the tasks so clearly, but the days all blend together, and now they dissipate away, just like the time I spent working on a space station.

Raneeda laughs. “When I was a kid, we had this dog, a little white one, and it looked so silly. It would always get its fur covering its eyes and I’d have to hold it still so I could trim it with scissors. Finally I found out if I bribed him with cheese, he didn’t even notice me cutting his hair.”

I smile, despite everything. It’s a sweet memory.

It feels just…weirdly normal, even though I’m in a Royal Palace, life is much more relaxed than fighting to survive against monstrous reptilian creations. I look over at Raneeda. She’s lounging on the chairs, legs open rather imperiously, but when she sees my gaze, she snaps to attention, sitting straight up and remembering that her job is as a servant.

“Your hair is so beautiful, Raneeda.”

“Nash did it for me, while we were waiting to see who would show up,” she answers, blushing. Her long black hair is in the most elaborate braids, with just enough left loose to frame her face. She toys with it, running her hands over the knots.

“Then I’m in good hands. I’ll let you choose what you do. I just want to relax,” I say, the exhaustion deep in my body. I feel a pang of guilt that these two are probably feeling the same thing as me, but they have to work while I sit, but it’ll just feel awkward for me to mention it. Nash was pretty clear that if she wasn’t here, she’d be back in the city, and there’s worse things to endure than two exceptionally talented helpers, even if they don’t let me do simple things like wash my hair or put on a robe myself.

My body feels like it’s made of jelly, loosened by Raneeda’s expert hands that found knots I didn’t know existed, all the tension gone. I lie back and let Nash work, when I’m brought out of my stupor by Raneeda’s voice.

“So…what are those guys like?” asks Raneeda. Nash tuts in disapproval. “I mean, sorry, I shouldn’t ask. Um, do you want a foot massage?” she says, changing the topic.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Oh,” she answers, nervous.

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