His Majesty’s Captive
The sight of an older woman clad in red robes came into view.
"Oh, my heavens, you are just as lovely as her."
My lips curled in a shy smile as the woman advanced forward, "Who are you, please?"
"Forgive my manners." She laughed softly. "I am Maura. I oversee the female slaves."
"I am—"
"Princess Fiona." Her brown eyes lit up as she pronounced my name.
"Not a princess anymore."
"Oh, nonsense, dear," she shook her head. "It is here," she stamped her palm over her heart, "Not in your clothes or finery."
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