All Chapters of His Royal Slut: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The room was completely dark. Heavy blackout curtains had been pulled tightly across every window for days, sealing out the sun, the moon, and the rest of the living world. Not even a sliver of light managed to slip through. The air inside was thick and still, heavy with the scent of unwashed sheets and untouched food trays that had been left outside the door and eventually taken away again. Daniel sat on the edge of the large bed, the same bed he had ordered redesigned for Raine only weeks earlier with his eyes closed and his head bowed. His hands rested limply on his thighs. He hadn’t moved in hours. He hadn’t spoken in longer. It had been one week. Seven full days since Raine fell into that black, endless water. Seven days since Daniel watched the only person who ever made him feel human disappear beneath the surface in a spray of blood and finality. Seven days of silence, of empty reports, of professional divers in black wetsuits shaking their heads and repeating the same co

The dining room in the east wing of the palace was quiet except for the soft clink of silverware against fine china. Tall windows let in the late afternoon light, but the atmosphere at the table felt colder than the weather outside. Daniel sat at the head of the long table, posture perfect, movements precise and economical as he cut into his food. Across from him, King Reginald and Queen Eleanor watched their son in silence. Neither of them had spoken beyond the most basic greetings since the meal began. The distance between Daniel and his parents had grown into something wide and nearly permanent in the five years since Raine’s death. Daniel partly blamed his mother for everything that had happened. If she had never threatened Raine, if she had never driven him out of the country the first time, if she had never created the climate of fear and secrecy that made Raine an easy target later… maybe none of it would have ended the way it did. Daniel never said the words out loud anymore,

Liam sat on the low wooden stool inside the small house, carefully sorting the fruits his mother planned to sell at the market that afternoon. The morning light came in through the open window, warm and golden, catching on the smooth skins of the mangoes, the deep red of the ripe guavas, and the pale green of the starfruit. He worked with quiet, steady focus, setting aside any fruit that was bruised or overripe and placing the best ones into a clean woven basket. The simple rhythm of the task always calmed him. In a life that had no memories before the day he woke up beside the stream, these ordinary moments were the things that made him feel real and rooted. A familiar voice called from the open doorway. “Hey man, what’s up?” Liam looked up and smiled immediately. Alex stood there, twenty four years old, born and raised in the village, with the easy confidence of someone who had never known any other home. His dark hair was messy from the morning wind, and he carried the usual bri

Sebastian dropped to his knees in the dust, still holding Cole’s limp body tightly against his chest. He patted Cole’s cheek with increasing urgency, his voice low but strained as he called his name over and over. “Cole. Cole, open your eyes. Come on, stay with me.” Cole’s head lolled slightly, but he didn’t respond at first. Sebastian kept talking to him, one arm supporting his back while the other brushed damp hair away from his forehead. A few steps away, Daniel had not moved. He stood completely frozen, staring at the young man who had just set the little girl down. His hands were shaking so badly he had to curl them into fists at his sides. His breathing had gone uneven, short, shallow pulls of air that didn’t seem to reach his lungs properly. The world around him had faded into a dull roar. All he could see was the face in front of him. The same face he had watched fall into black water five years ago. Liam looked between the strangers with polite confusion that was

The stream moved quietly under the night sky. It was a little after nine. The village had already settled into its usual evening stillness, distant voices fading, oil lamps glowing in a few windows, the occasional bark of a dog somewhere far off. Daniel and Liam sat side by side on the grassy bank, close enough that their shoulders almost touched, but not quite. Neither of them had spoken for a long time. They simply watched the dark water slide past, carrying reflections of the stars. Two weeks had gone by since the afternoon everything changed. Two weeks of careful conversations, of shared meals in the chief’s house or at Liam’s mother’s table, of slow walks through the village while children ran around them. Two weeks of Daniel learning the version of this man who called himself Liam, the way he laughed with his whole body when something truly amused him, the quiet patience he showed the elderly, the habit he had of touching the necklace when he was thinking. Two weeks of Lia