CHAPTER FIVE

[POV: Daphne]

When dawn broke, a servant dumped a fresh slave uniform onto Daphne’s bed. It was a drab, incredibly short tunic that aggressively highlighted her vulnerability. Daphne systematically smoothed her hair, her movements robotic. She was escorted directly to the Sterling sulphur mines—the exact dark pits where her father had tortured King Leonidas.

The moment she stepped onto the dirt path, the oppressive atmosphere shifted. Countless pairs of exhausted, hollow eyes snapped toward her. The Sterling slaves—those who had survived Mercer’s brutality—recognized her instantly.

Despite the filthy uniform, Daphne oozed an innate, infuriating royalty. Her spine remained straight, her chin stubbornly elevated. The haughty aura of a princess was permanently etched into her bone structure. It provoked seething rage among the workforce.

“Is the little princess afraid of getting dirt under her pristine nails?” Kaelen, the heavily scarred Sterling slave-driver, sneered as she approached. A chorus of malicious, mocking laughter erupted from the laborers.

Kaelen stepped aggressively into her space, thrusting a heavy iron pickaxe against her chest. “You will excavate the new western tunnel. Completely alone. Nobody assists the whore-princess.”

Daphne’s fingers mechanically gripped the rough wooden handle. “Yes. I can manage.”

Kaelen’s eyes flared at her quiet defiance. In a flash of blurring motion, his large hand struck across her cheek in a vicious slap that sent her sprawling into the jagged gravel. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. Before she could process the pain, his hand tangled in her hair, yanking her face up toward his.

“You answer me with respect, you useless whore, or I will bury you in this mine!” he barked, spit flying onto her bruised face.

Daphne quickly blinked back the hot tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. “Yes. Sir.”

For two grueling hours, she relentlessly slammed the heavy iron hammer against the unyielding rock face at the back of the isolated tunnel. Her slender arms vibrated with every impact, her muscles screaming in agony. The task was designed for ten strong men; for her, it was an execution sentence.

The suffocating presence of another body pressed aggressively against her back. The foul stench of unwashed sweat and stale ale filled her lungs.

Kaelen’s massive hands snaked around her waist, dragging her back against his obvious arousal. “Are you exhausted, my little Princess?” he groaned into her ear, his rough, dirty calluses squeezing her breast through the thin fabric.

Daphne froze in terror. “Release me, please.”

“I can effortlessly make your life down here a paradise,” Kaelen ground his hips suggestively against her rear. “All you have to surrender is that sweet little cunt whenever I command it.”

Revulsion clawed at her throat. “I am the King’s personal slave! You know performing such acts without his direct authorization is a death sentence!”

Kaelen merely chuckled darkly, twisting her delicate nipple until she whimpered. “The King will never know.”

Before the monster could tear off her uniform, an icy voice echoed sharply down the dark cavern.

“Where exactly is the King’s property?”

Bridget.

Kaelen instantly detached from Daphne as if he had been physically burned, rapidly taking several frantic steps backward. He glared venomously at Daphne, silently promising horrific retribution, before storming past the older maid at the entrance.

Daphne collapsed against the cool cavern wall, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. She wiped her frantic tears, clutching the heavy iron hammer for dear life.

“The King demands your absolute immediate presence in his chambers,” Bridget stated coldly, offering not an ounce of visible sympathy. “Do not keep him waiting.”

Daphne abandoned the hammer and limped painfully back toward the sprawling palace. Upon cautiously entering the golden chambers, she found Leonidas resplendent in heavy, formal court attire, looking every inch the brutal warlord conqueror.

He critically surveyed her sweat-slicked, dirt-streaked body, his sharp gaze lingering thoughtfully on the red welt rapidly swelling on her cheek.

“Leave us,” he commanded the room. Cedric and the attending hands immediately bowed and vanished behind the heavy oak doors, the lock snapping ominously into place.

Leonidas turned his piercing eyes back toward her, his expression devoid of mercy. “Bathe thoroughly. You have exactly five minutes to prepare yourself. We are marching to the Royal Court.”

The heavy feeling of impending doom dropped Daphne’s stomach to the floor. “The Royal Court?”

“Today,” Leonidas stated smoothly, sealing her horrific fate with terrifying casualness, “is your formal introduction as the personal slave of the King.”

Daphne’s vision instantly blacked out at the edges. She knew precisely what a public introduction at a Royal Court entailed. Her father had utilized them relentlessly. It wasn't politics. It was a chaotic spectacle where the slave was publicly violated, passed around among the visiting nobility for sport and sexual domination.

She turned and sprinted blindly toward her small, sad room, a terrified sob tearing from her throat, fully knowing she was marching rapidly toward absolute ruin.