“Are you feeling any pain, Dhara?” the Prince asked as he watched her stir.
Still half-asleep, the Princess murmured, “What…?”
“Dhara.” The Prince toyed with her hair.
He knew that if she looked into a mirror, she’d immediately understand what he had done to her.
“What is it, Prince?” she asked.
Ashok leaned in, brushing his lips over the places he had tormented the night before. Her skin still ached.
“Stop it,” she muttered, pushing his head away. “Right in the morning?”
The Prince whispered into her ear, “There have been people outside the door for quite some time now.”
“Oh,” she nodded, understanding instantly.
Then, louder—far louder than necessary—she declared,
“My husband, you are my sun and my moon. I would die if anything happened to you. I counted stars every night you w
