17. Princess Davina
Chapter 17
Princess Davina
“Whatever women do they must do twice as
well as men to be thought half as good.
Luckily, this is not difficult. ”
— Charlotte Whitton
W omen. Thank God for women.
I’m convinced the muffled voices from downstairs belong to them. I open my door to catch what they’re saying?—
“Princess, get your ass down here,” Rafe calls out. “I know you’re eavesdropping.”
Ugh.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I mutter under my breath.
As I reach the hall, I’m taken aback by the sight of twenty beautiful women staring at me.
“Consider yourself lucky,” Rafe drawls. “Cole despises having company, but you managed to get what you wanted.”
I shift on my feet, whispering, “I was hoping he would choose one. I don’t want to decide. It feels rude.”
“Decide?”
“I don’t want to pick one of them. It feels awkward and impolite. Why didn’t he just make the choice himself?”
“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Rafe chuckles. “They’re all staying here for you.”
I blink, trying to process what he just said. “Wait, what?”
“Please let us know if we can assist you with anything, Your Highness,” a black-haired woman in her mid-thirties says. Her posture is immaculate, with her hands neatly clasped in front of her. “Would you like to take a bath, or perhaps enjoy a massage to relax?”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. You don’t have?—”
“It would be our pleasure, Your Highness,” she insists gently, her tone leaving no room for refusal.
I hesitate, sensing that she’s not going to let this go. “Maybe… after dinner?” I offer, hoping that will satisfy her.
“Of course, Your Highness,” she replies, dipping into a graceful curtsy.
I can’t help but cringe slightly, my stomach twisting at the formalities. The title, the curtsy, the deferential tone—it’s all too much. I don’t want them to treat me like a royal.
“Some of them are servants,” Rafe explains quietly, his voice low enough that only I can hear, “some are maids, and a couple of them will be cooking for us tonight.”
My attention drifts back to the black-haired woman, who has now rejoined the others, giving instructions in a hushed tone.
“Claire, Madeline, and Juliet will be here to keep you company,” Rafe continues. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
It’s a bit over the top, but I know better than to say anything.
Rafe lets out a relieved breath. “It’s good to know they’ll be braiding your hair from now on.”
“Oh, please. As if you had to do it before.”
“Not yet.”
“Why didn’t Cole have anyone around before?” I ask.
“After his father’s death, he shut everyone out.”
“What happened to him? And what about his mother?”
“His mother died giving birth to him, and his father…well, Lorelda murdered him.”
I swallow. “That’s…”
“He tried everything to kill her, even though he knew it was futile. A few years ago, she punished him for it and tortured him for months before letting him go. Now she holds his sister captive, which is why he’s acting so compliant around her.”
I stare at him, speechless.
“Since she tortured him,” he continues, “he’s become a bit unhinged. But you’ve probably noticed that already.”
“So, all of this—his behavior, the isolation—it’s all a result of what Lorelda did to him.”
Rafe nods. “She broke him in ways that go beyond physical pain. It’s not just the scars on his body; it’s the scars on his mind. And Lorelda keeps him tethered with the threat of his sister.”
Great. He’s truly an emotionally damaged man.