Chapter 24
Deborah pouted, clearly disappointed, and could only sit back down on the floor, continuing to massage Damian’s leg. Her life right now? Utterly humiliating.
Meanwhile, Luisa was practically fuming. She thought, “That shameless woman is doing this on purpose!
‘She is already married to Prince Simon. Yes, everyone knows Prince Simon has always been sickly and weak, but no matter what, he is still her husband. And yet she dares to come here and try to seduce Prince Damian? Despicable.’
Luisa took a deep breath, forcing her expression into something pleasant. With her wine cup in hand, she stepped forward and smiled sweetly. “Damian, allow me to toast you.”
After all, Deborah–this lowly, married woman–was kneeling on the floor like a servant. Meanwhile, she, Luisa, stood tall and poised. There was no comparison. She was noble and refined; Deborah was beneath her.
Damian lazily picked up his cup, about to take a sip, when a sudden, unexpected sound interrupted him.
Grrrrggglll…
His eyes darkened slightly. He set the cup down and glanced at the girl still sitting beside him. “Hungry?”
Deborah nearly rolled her eyes. Starving didn’t even begin to describe it. But she was too annoyed to dignify him with an answer.
Around them, the guests froze again. They thought. ‘She is ignoring His Highness’s question? Is she insane?”
And yet–once again, contrary to everyone’s expectations–Damian didn’t get angry.
Instead, he calmly cut a piece of meat with his knife and held it out to her. “Eat.”
Deborah glared at him. The way he was offering it–like she was some pitiful stray dog–made her want to slap him. She had dignity too!
“Not eating?” Damian’s brow lifted ever so slightly.
That tiny frown sent a jolt through the crowd. Even Luisa instinctively took a step back, as if afraid of what might happen next.
Deborah wanted to take the meat. She really did. But her last shred of pride held her back. She bit her lip, refusing to reach for it.
“Really not eating?” Damian leaned in slightly, holding the meat close to her lips.
It smelled amazing–savory with a hint of spice, probably seasoned by one of the palace’s top chefs. There was even a sweet undertone in the aroma that made her mouth water. She wanted it so badly. But her pride…
“If you’re not eating now, then don’t eat tomorrow either.” He began to pull his hand back.
“Thomas,” he said coldly, “tell the steward–no meals for Princess Deborah tomorrow.”
“I’ll eat!” Deborah nearly burst into tears. She snatched the meat from his hand and immediately took a big bite.
She thought, ‘So what if it is humiliating? This man is terrifying!‘ If he said she wouldn’t eat tomorrow, then she really wouldn’t eat–not pasta, not even a drop of soup.
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No one understood better than she did just how cruel he could be. He’d starve her without a second thought.
She chewed with her head down, silently fuming. But surprisingly… after a few bites, the bitterness in her chest began to ease. Because damn it–it was delicious.
She looked up at him. “Your Highness…”
She didn’t notice the rare flicker of amusement in his usually icy gaze.
“You really do eat like a little puppy.”
He cut another piece of meat and handed it to her.
Deborah accepted it, silently cursing him with every fiber of her being. She thought, ‘You’re the dog! Your whole family’s full of dogs… except Simon. And me, of course.
“Thirsty?”
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She nodded quickly.
“Drink.”
“Your Highness, I want more.”
By now, the only people actually eating at the party were Damian and Deborah. Everyone else? Their meat had gone cold, and their wine had lost
its flavor.
They thought, ‘Aren’t we supposed to be watching Deborah get punished? So why does it feel more like she is being pampered? And not just pampered–spoiled. Like a little pet.‘
And to be honest… some of them wouldn’t mind being his little pet either.
As for Luisa, who had been standing off to the side the entire time, it was like she didn’t even exist. Not once had Damian’s gaze landed on her.
She stared at Deborah’s now rosy, wine–flushed face, her hands clenched tightly into fists.
“Your Highness,” she said through gritted teeth, “Princess Deborah seems quite drunk. Why don’t I help her to a room to rest?”
All she wanted was to get Deborah away from him.
But Damian didn’t even glance at her. His eyes remained locked on Deborah’s increasingly flushed face, and his expression turned cold. “She’s drunk?”
Deborah didn’t respond. She just kept drinking her fruit wine, as if he hadn’t spoken.
Then, without a word, Damian suddenly stood up.
“Your Highness!” Several guests scrambled to rise as well.
Before anyone could react, he reached out, scooped Deborah up like a sack of grain, and strode off.
Gasps echoed all around them.
They thought, ‘He actually… carried the drunken Princess Deborah away like she weighed nothing at all. Like it is the most natural thing in the world. Like she belongs to him.’
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