On the same day the King and I went for a ride together, Lord Sheffield and I were moved to the Palace on the Ile de la Cité. We were moved into a part of the palace that was a little bit away from the main hall, the heart of the place. Those French rooms were a wonder. The furniture was quite big and heavy and the walls, even though covered with luxurious tapestries, were awfully cold, being made of that rock which seemed eternal. It really was exotic to me. What was considered as refined here had nothing to do with Choson’s delicate art of flourishing colours. Nevertheless, I was stunned. I couldn’t comprehend why all this was happening to me. After all, I was nothing but a servant. I had slept with the king of this kingdom, more likely than not because I was completely alien to him and now, here I was, in his palace, surrounded by his own people to serve me (a head butler called Henri and a young girl called Juliette). How ironic! It seemed to me I could never get used to it. And I didn’t want to either. Something inside of me was screaming that I tried to smother. I had not to let my guards down. I couldn’t trust my luck: this was not meant to be granted forever. That King, Joon, I couldn’t rely on him. His position made him the loneliest person in the world, and he was trying to trick himself into believing that maybe I was a solution to his needs. But I was afraid our loneliness was the only bond between us. Who knows how many mistresses he had already had, making them rise and then suddenly fall. Or maybe I was just being ungrateful. When I was with him, though it had yet only been twice, he managed to make me forget my pain. He was giving me an importance I could have never hoped for. But what was I exactly? As far as I knew, he had given me no title yet. And I know that he considered me as being Lord Sheffield’s property, as if the old man were my father or something.

I was suddenly startled at the feeling of a pair of arms sliding around my waist from behind and a face nuzzling in the crook of my neck, pressing a kiss gently. I quickly turned around only to discover Joon, chuckling at my surprise.

He said something with a smile and took me by the hand, leading me quite hurriedly along a hall which ended on a dining hall. He sat me down on a chair at a table in front of an old man.

-  Mister Mahaut, the king said.

He then started to talk with this M. Mahaut, winked at me with a smile and left as quickly as he’d brought me in. What was I doing here?! What was this all about?

The man said several words of introduction I suppose, and showed me different books, with colours and drawings of objects. So he was a teacher? He was the one meant to teach me French? I smiled internally: Joon didn’t waste anytime. And that’s how my daily lessons started. From now on, every morning for four consecutive hours, I’d have to attend these lessons. But that would prove to be effective.

Lord Sheffield and I had our private area in the palace. We would live as if we were settled in our own place. The only compulsory thing was: to have our meals at the King’s table. To my surprise, Lord Sheffield was seated beside the King’s prime minister on his right. I, on the other hand, was seated at a safe distance from both of them, too isolated to my liking, but I didn’t dare to show any emotion. The other odd thing was that the Queen wasn’t there. Wasn’t he married at his age? He seemed to be in his mid-twenties and surely, at such an age, a King had to be married. Lord Sheffield and the King were talking vividly along with other people, laughing loudly and merrily. I kept a fake smile plastered on my face every time anyone would look at me even though no one apparently seemed too eager to talk to me. Their looks were some of curiosity, as if I were a new kind of pet. Not being part of a society gives you advantages no one would guess. You can make up your own culture’s traditions to suit the purpose you might have and you can afford to just stare… though his warm and joking attitude could make one believe he was all too sincere in his joy, I was able to discern that all this was an act. The way his fingers fidgeted on his cutlery, the way his eyes were quickly scanning the room to check at everyone’s reaction to his words and the way he leant back in his chair once in a while to ponder on the others’answers: everything about him told me he was choosing carefully his words, weighing them even when he seemed to joke gleefully, he was apprehending the way his fellows were seeing him. He was controlling his image carefully. And I felt moved deep down. His will was strong but all this self-confident attitude was just an act. He was worried his fellows would judge him as being a bad King. And maybe that was the reason why I was so far from him at this table, so that no one could fathom what relationship he had with me. As a King, he could never be himself, the one he wanted to be. He had to follow the others’ expectations. I felt incredibly thankful to be in my place instead of his at that moment.

This night, I went to bed early, too tired to stay there pretending to enjoy myself. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. Nevertheless, I was awoken a few hours later, at the feeling of warm lips kissing my jaw and arms snaking around my waist. I panicked and started to struggle, trying to wriggle away from the grasp on my body. But the arms seemed as unmovable as a wall. I whimpered desperately and felt a hand on my mouth, preventing me from making any alarming noise.

-  Shhh, he hushed me, It’s me, you silly!

As he spoke, I stopped struggling: This voice could only be his.

-  Sorry I scared you, he said gently my cheek.

My breath was still unsteady because of my recent fright. I couldn’t bring myself to smile yet. It was all so dark! I wish I could at least see his face but I could only distinguish the contours of his figure in the dim light of the night. He kissed my lips tenderly and crawled over me. And just like the night before, he started to draw my body with his hands, making me shiver under his touch. And once again, I gave into my desires. He was the relief I needed. So I felt him. I let my hands discover his chest, my tongue taste his skin. He moaned and groaned, pushing my prying hands away from him, pinning me down with a strong grip on my wrists. I panted, overwhelmed by want. He was in as much a pain as I was. He rubbed his against mine and I let out a loud moan. This was torture. Though it all started gently, it quickly turned out sloppy, impatient and rough. As his tongue forced its way in my mouth, I sensed something. He wasn’t himself: he was angry. He released my mouth, letting me take a breath, and made his way down, kissing sloppily my neck, hard on the skin. Suddenly, I shouted at the pain that shot through my body: he was biting my shoulder. I could feel his teeth sinking deep in my skin. I wriggled and struggled to get away but it seemed to infuriate him even more, his lips ravaging my chest now, his grip tighter than ever. I whimpered in fear, and he stopped at that sound. He slowly got away from me and sat up, his chin resting on his knees. I held my breath, anxious as to what was awaiting me. His body was slightly shaking and his breath was deep and loud. Then, I heard it distinctly: sobs. I was stunned. The most powerful man of this kingdom was crying. He got on his feet, ready to leave my room but I stopped him. I launched myself in front of him, and enclosed my arms around him. He struggled a bit so I tightened my grip. I couldn’t let this man walk away from me. He needed me, that’s why he’d come tonight. I couldn’t let him down. As harsh and unsinkable as he may seem, he was suffering and somehow, he’d thought I could help him run away from his fears. I had to live up to it, I wanted to live up to it. I felt his body relax in my embrace and he sobbed in the crook of my shoulders, his arms wrapping around my body. I caressed his hair and the back of his neck, kissed his cheek and whispered comforting words in his ears. He couldn’t understand those words but I knew he could understand my heart right now. I slowly lead him back into bed, inside the sheets and laid beside him, kissing his face, his lips, his chest, trying to divert his mind from his sorrow. He had to know I was here; he had to know he wasn’t alone.

And slowly, he came back to me. He started to take the lead again. This was all he needed: to be in control. He came back on top of me, and we spent the night making love. He was sweet with me and I knew I’d managed to calm him down, to hush his fears for the time being and I felt satisfied.

Early in the morning, he left me, kissing me again and again as if he didn’t want to go. And that’s when I discovered how he’d come in: there was a hidden hall beside the bed. It looked like marble but it was nothing but a beautiful imitation on wood. I smiled as he disappeared. During this night, he gave me something precious that I’d lost somewhere between my own country and France…hope.

I’m so sorry for the late update!

I was on holidays and the place where I stayed didn’t have any internet connection and I just hate writing on my smartphone.

Anyways hope you enjoyed this chapter!^^