Teach Me Dirty

8: My Prisoner

Kehannar sat quietly on the edge of the soft mattress, her fingers lightly tracing the soft, pale skin of her thighs. She stared down at her own body with a sense of profound detachment, as if she were looking at a stranger's flesh.

Across from her, the elderly physician watched her with tired eyes. Sensing her confusion, he gestured toward her lower limbs. “Those are called legs,” he said slowly.

He spoke as if he were teaching a toddler her very first words, patiently trying to rebuild the world she had entirely forgotten.

“Legs,” Kehannar repeated. The word felt clumsy and foreign in her mouth. She tried to connect the sound to the limbs resting on the bed.

The physician could see that her mind is a vast, empty canvas. There were no memories of anything, but he would fix it.

The physician let out a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging beneath his robes. “Poor child,” he murmured, the words laced with genuine pity. He reached out, patting her hand gently.

“I will try everything possible for you to get your memory back, I promise you.” Kehannar looked at him, like she understand his promise, but she gave him a small, innocent nod.

Their moment was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Ekira, the servant whom Physician Forlod had sent to deliver the news of Kehannar’s awakening to the king, walked into the room.

She was pale, and her breath was shallow. She let out a long, weary sigh as she stopped by the door. Physician Forlod looked up at her, instantly reading the anxiety etched into her facial features. He already knew, without a word being spoken, that her encounter with King Nudoz had not ended well.

“What did he say?” Physician Forlod asked, his tone demanding. He needed to know the king's stance before deciding how to proceed with the princess.

“He said nothing,” Ekira replied flatly. “When I told him Kehanar had woken, he did not utter a single word. He just turned and walked away.”

Forlod’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You did not mention the part where she lost her memory?” he pressed, sounding frustrated.

In Ekira's mind, a flash of irritation flared. She wondered if Forlod had not heard her clearly the first time. “I said he just walked away,” she countered, her voice rising slightly.

“And the look he gave me... it was that kind of look like I was disturbing him. He gave me this stern, cold look like he didn't care at all. That means I didn’t get the chance to mention the part where she lost her memory.” She explained.

The physician rubbed his temples and nodded, accepting the reality of the king's apathy. He turned his attention back to the silent Kehanar on the bed.

“Get the girl food. She must be famished,” Forlod commanded, standing up and smoothing his robes. “I will go see the king myself.”

Ekira turned to the bed, offering Kehannar a small, forced smile. “What will you like to eat?” she asked gently.

“For damn sake, get her anything!” Forlod snapped, his patience wearing thin. “She lost her memory to know the names of food. Just bring something filling.” He said, Ekira nodded quickly, and hurried out of the room.

*

*

*

Across the sprawling expanse of the palace, King Nudoz sat at the head of his massive dining table, his expression was dark. He lifted a spoonful of rich stew to his lips, tasting it once, and immediately froze. His face contorted in disgust.

“What the hell is this nonsense?” Nudoz groaned, slamming his spoon down so hard that the fine dishware rattled against the wood. The stew was unbearable, saturated with far too much salt.

“I am so sorry, Your Highness,” Gora, the head maid, stammered instantly. She bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the table, her voice shaking with absolute fear.

“The previous cook just gave birth and needed a break. This is a new cook, Sire.” Gora said.

“She is fired,” Nudoz stated coldly, not even looking at the trembling staff. “She cannot cook.” He added.

Upon hearing her immediate dismissal, the new cook burst into loud, panicked crying and fled the dining hall. The rest of the servants remained frozen in place, and shaking.

They held their breath, fearing that if even a small, accidental sound left their lips, they would be cast out into the streets next. Nudoz stood up angrily.

If there was one thing he would not tolerate, it was for his food to be anything less than delicious. He did not joke with his food, and his patience for incompetence was non-existent.

He stormed out of the dining hall, needing to escape the suffocating air of the room.

Waiting just outside the dining door was Dotroth. The man immediately bowed deeply to his king.

“Walk with me, Dotroth,” Nudoz commanded without slowing down.

As they strode through the corridors, palace guards and noblemen alike stared at them in whispered disbelief.

They could not still understand how the notoriously cold and elitist king was walking side-by-side with a low-born person like Dotroth… a fighter who was not even known to have commanded on a real battlefield.

By now, the shocking news had already spread through the castle. The king was sending Dotroth to rule the conquered territory of Taringhal on his behalf. Everyone was left wondering why he had not chosen one of the seasoned lords instead.

“May I speak, Sire?” Dotroth asked cautiously as they turned a corner. Nudoz gave him nod.

“I just did not expect you to send me to rule a kingdom,” Dotroth admitted, his voice low but filled with loyalty. “But I am not going to let you down, my King.”

“Is that all?” Nudoz asked dismissively. He was about to keep walking when Physician Forlod suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway, walking directly toward them with fast strides.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” Forlod said, bowing respectfully but blocking the king's path.

Nudoz stopped in his tracks. The interruption to his walk only served to fuel the anger left over from his ruined breakfast.

“Why are you here? Did the servant not deliver my response to you, Forlod?” Nudoz asked, his voice dripping with venom, implying that his silence should have been answer enough.

“She did, Your Highness,” Forlod replied bravely, refusing to back down despite the king's radiating hostility. “Although she must have skipped a part of the pronouncement regarding Princess Kehanar memory.”

Nudoz let out a derisive hiss, his patience finally snapping. He leaned in closer to the physician, his eyes flashing with a cruel light.

“Kehannar is not a princess here,” Nudoz growled, his voice now filled with a dangerous whisper. “She is a prisoner. My prisoner.”