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Mark dug his heels in and screamed obscenities.
    The king sighed. “This is not your first breech of loyalty, and you know it. But it is your last.” He turned to one of the other guards. “Please show our festival guests in. They must be very tired from their journey.”
    Abigail stared in horror as the man was taken away. Her impression of the king’s mercy was fading fast. It was impossible to reconcile the previous night’s kindness, as well as the tenderness he’d shown her only a few minutes ago in private, with the way he was behaving now. How easily he could dispense with a life.
    She looked back at him, and he caught her gaze. Surely all her feelings of betrayal were shining out from her eyes. Her fear was confirmed when he looked out at the court and said, “If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”
    The king stood and gently escorted Abigail into a side chamber. He shut the door behind him and turned the lock in place.
    She took a step back. “Are you going to kill me too if I talk back?” Tears streamed down her face.
    “Abby, please don’t cry.” The king moved closer and wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “You’ll make your face all red.”
    “Why are you doing this? You humiliated me in front of my family. Now you’re killing a man for not liking your choice in slave? Nobody should have to die for me!”
    The king seemed more unstable by the minute, just another shade, another flavor, of evil, no better than his gypsy-killing father. She tried not to think about his hands on her the night before, or just moments ago in court. She couldn’t let herself react sexually to such a man.
    “I didn’t realize your family would have a problem, but I understand your shyness better now. You will get over it. I won’t be more lenient just because you were raised in a repressed environment. That nonsense will end,” he said. “As for Mark, he has been a thorn in my side for months. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to send him to his maker. Too many people inside the walls of this castle have taken my mercy for weakness. I didn’t realize when I took the throne that I was in another war, one with my own people. I had hoped someone would lash out, and I’m glad it was Mark. An execution sends the message more clearly. It will keep you safe. I don’t want anyone else breaking my toy.”
    Abigail cringed at that last part, but then he pulled her close to him and held her, gently stroking her back. It confirmed yet another cultural difference between them. To her my toy seemed demeaning and cruel, but he’d obviously meant it as an endearment.
    “You’ll get used to our ways. You’ll even come to enjoy them.” He held her quietly for another minute. “Are you finished with the tears, now?”
    “Yes, Master.” It was all she could say. He didn’t owe her an explanation for his actions. The fact that he’d given her one must count for something.
    “Good. We need to get back.”
    Although she didn’t like it, there was a sense of logic to his stance. After all, even she had let her guard down before he’d spanked her the previous night. It was too easy to forget his power if he didn’t display and enforce it. He had to protect his position and wanted to protect his property as well. For that, she felt she should be grateful, or at the very least, not surly.
    If anyone in the kingdom thought going against his choice in a slave was okay, it could put her life in danger.
    When they returned, the king didn’t direct her to kneel on the cushion, but to lie down on the chaise.
    Abigail lay on the king’s lap as he greeted foreign guests who’d traveled for the festival. They would be staying in the guest wing. As they exchanged pleasantries, the king pulled the pins from her hair to let it fall freely around her shoulders. She let out a shaky breath. Although she’d been mentally preparing herself for what came next, she still let out a shocked little whimper when he spread her thighs and