Semua Bab ROYAL BLOOD: Bab 111 - Bab 120

Hamstung The market lay in a haze of heat and dust. Stalls that once overflowed with fruit and grain now offered little more than shriveled vegetables and jars of stale grain, guarded as if they were treasures. The air was thick, dry, and restless; every step stirred up clouds of red-brown dust that clung to skin.Merchants fanned themselves lazily with bits of woven palm, their voices hoarse from calling out prices in the scorching air.Children darted between baskets, their bare feet kicking up powdery trails, lips cracked from thirst. A goat tied to a post bleated weakly, its ribs visible through its skin, while a group of women argued over the last jug of water, their voices sharper than the sun overhead.The smell of spice, normally rich and inviting, now mixed with the acrid scent of dry earth, making the market feel less like a place of life and more like a furnace.As days passed, the citizens of Hamstung longed for rain to pour, to quench their scorching thirst. But their w

Vandamonth Imperial Palace Kora's long, slim legs were entangled under the sheets. Her cold, flawless face rested on Aaram's chest, his hand running through her long, thick, wavy hair.This was one of the many times they had just finished having some of their heated sex. Making sweet passion behind the closed doors of Kora's chamber. "You age like fine wine." Aaram's deep voice whispered. Using his index finger, he raised her chin, his intense gaze locking with hers. Kora smiled, then dropped her gaze. Using her finger, she began to stroke his chest slowly. "You know how to please a woman." She purred, allowing her fingers to run down his chest in light strokes. "Well…" his deep voice dropped, "You simply put me in the mood." He said, tugging some strands of her hair behind her ear. Kora smiled, inhaled his toxic scent, and opened her mouth to say something but paused halfway. A noise…quite frightening reached her ears. She furrowed her brows before slowly sitting up o

Hamstung was known for its cruel taste in trading slaves. It has long been their source of great income; King Oran made a fortune out of it and became the wealthiest king. A lot of kingdoms frowned upon the idea of humans being trafficked and treated like animals. But no one was bold enough to banter words with the king. In fact, they feared him, and to increase their loyalty, Oran made sure to secure gold for kingdoms that asked for it when their treasury ran low. This way, they won't have the courage to try and stop the trade from booming.For years the trade business has been incorporated into the lives of Hamstung inhabitants; it became a thing of necessity, and it was no longer frowned upon. Slavery… It was a dreadful thing, especially to Joya. She had tried to run from it multiple times; she escaped from the ship where she was locked up and then ended up in Hamstung. She was whisked away again by camel riders and then served as a maid in the royal castle. Now here she was ag

Rarely does Berth ever wander around the house or even step out of her room. Always in her room, locked away, talking to herself, sewing up clothes.Berth has been sewing clothes for as long as she can remember. It all started when she was a little girl; like any other young girl with dreams, she wanted to be whisked away by a knight in shiny armor or prince. She would imagine herself dancing in a pretty dress; the dress should be breathtaking and stir envy. When she realized her father was a pauper and would never be able to afford any quality dress, she started sewing.At first it was out of spite; other kids had good clothes, so why couldn't she also have a quality dress to boast of? Soon it changed to despair; she was poor, her father was a pauper, and she would never be able to wear a nice dress!Finally it became a habit. Every time she dreamed of herself dancing with a prince, she would pick up her needles, search for tattered clothes in her broken drawer, and then begin to se

The corridor stretched long and dim, lined with tall stone walls that echoed the faint shuffle of footsteps. A maid moved quietly along the hallway, her plain dress brushing against her ankles as she carried a folded bundle of linens in a basket.The oil lamps fixed on the walls cast wavering shadows, and with each step, the polished floor caught a faint glimmer of her reflection. Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead, the silence of the grand hallway broken only by the soft creak of the floor beneath her weight.The maid trudged softly down the corridor, both hands gripping the handles of a wicker basket pressed against her hip. Inside, thick woolen blankets were stacked high, their heavy folds threatening to spill over with each careful step. The basket strained her arms, and the weight slowed her pace, but she kept moving, her slippers slapping against the polished stone floor. Shadows from the sconces stretched across the walls, sliding over her face as she passed. Though the t