“What did he do to you?” She could hear the anger in Yoongi’s voice.
“He grabbed me. He kissed my cheeks. He was after my lips. And so much more.” She could still feel his slimy hands trying to invade places they weren’t welcome. She shuddered at the memory. “But I shoved him away and fled. I hid. I didn’t return to the garden for months. I was terrified he would have me killed for refusing him.”
My poor Moonflower.
Yoongi would have gladly slayed his brother then and there if he hadn’t already been dead. This right here was the reason the sword was created. To defend the weak. To protect the defenseless.
“I’m all right, Yoongi.”
She could feel his wrath. It was a good thing his brother was already dead. Otherwise, his days would have been numbered. Yoongi’s stance was scary right now. She could feel the tension rippling through his muscles under her fingertips. But she knew that it was in her defense. She felt so safe in his presence.
“He never touched you after that first time?” His gentle voice was intense.
“No,” she smiled at him. “I am all right. Now, you said you have an early morning, so you’d best get some sleep.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being out here alone at night. Would you allow me to post a guard with you?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Would I allow you? You are the king…do you have anyone you trust to keep me safe?”
He nodded. He knew just the man…
“All right. Thank you, Yoongi.”
She lifted her face towards his. And her hand came up to touch his cheek. She caressed it for a moment before directing her lips towards his mouth. He bent his head and brushed his lips softly against hers. Just a tender touch. Then, he lifted his head.
“Be safe,” he whispered across her mouth.
She nodded. “You too, Your Highness.”
Now she was teasing him. He could hear it in her voice. He chuckled. “Good night, dear peasant.”
She sobered. Should she tell him? She shrugged her shoulders. What good would it do? It would only encourage him to hope where no hope truly existed. Better to let things lie.
“Thank you for the beautiful song. I love your voice. I would listen to you sing every night if that were possible.”
The corners of his lips quirked upward. “Perhaps it is,” he murmured. “Perhaps it is. Goodnight, Moonflower.”
With a final wave of his hand, which he belatedly realized she could not see, he went off in search of the royal guard he trusted the most.
