She was tired!

In the dim moonlight, his face shone like stardust was dusted on his bronze skin. She glared at him. His nonchalance was what cut her pride the worst.

He was a privileged conqueror, and even at his lowest, he must have never compromised his pride. How could he have ever understand her or the mocking whispers and gazes she faced every day!

“Moron.” She murmured in disgust at herself.

She didn't hate him but that didn't annoy her any less.

It wasn't like she was deaf to all the demeaning curses of being a prostitute who sold her body to the King for favor, she pretended to not listen but it didn't hurt any less.

She hated how she was such a putty in his hands despite what he did to her.

What was wrong with her? Was she blinded by lust or was she this much deprived that she will yearn his comfort of all people?!

But she tried not to blame herself too much. She really had no one...

He was manly, there was nothing subtle or boyish about the man and he was some years older than her.