Prince Damien's Pet
he grunted.
I stared at the meager offering—a hunk of bread and a cup of water. My stomach churned with revulsion, but survival instinct took over. With trembling hands, I reached for the bread, taking small, hesitant bites. The water tasted of metal, but I drank it anyway, each swallow a reminder that I was alive while my family...
I couldn't finish the thought. Instead, I focused on the bread in my hands, forcing myself to eat even as my body threatened to reject it. Each bite was an act of submission, of acceptance—the first of many, I knew, in my new life as the crown's plaything.
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