Sara walked calmly back to her room and opened the door and stepped in, prepared for an onslaught of bad language from the peasant boy. It came just as she knew it would.
“Get out, get away from me,”
“I wont get out of my own room, slave, I will stay here, if you really cannot stand to be so close to me, feel free to wander back to the monument and continue to kill yourself.” she said in an annoyingly cheery tone.
“Fine!” he said and went to sit up but groaned and fell back down. His back had seized up, he was in so much pain just to move it and having slept in this beautifully comfortable bed had made it worse. He looked at the princess a little embarrassed and she was smiling to make it worse.
“It didn’t hurt that much I can get up,” he said to her like a determined child would. He went to sit up again and the same thing happened, he groaned and fell back down. She was laughing now. “You laugh at my pain?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” she smiled sweetly, “I laugh at your determination to prove to me you are fit to leave and your stubbornness. You despise being near me so much that you are willing to torture yourself?” she asked. He cast his eyes away in embarrassment. “Will you let me clean your wounds?” she asked and he made no attempt to reply so she decided that no answer was a yes. She smiled and disappeared, soon she came back with a bowl and a cloth. She sat beside him and leaned over, she took the cloth to his face and gently, so gently wiped at the dirt. He frowned at her, glared at her, adamant the words of Katie were just words put into her mouth by the princess. He chose to ignore the sincerity of them. He was looking up at the princess, he had never seen her properly and now he was looking at her close up. She was incredibly beautiful but this was a disguise of a demon. Her beauty was what made her all the more cruel.
“You were whipped, I need to clean those wounds before they become infected,” she said and went to help him sit. He was hesitant but he let her. He tried to help as much as he could, wincing from the pain, his wounds had stuck to the sheets and the sheet stung.
“Slowly,” she said and helped him turn over. He saw blood on the sheets from his lashed back, he noticed she made no worry about it, it was like it did not matter. He lay on his front, she carefully touched the cloth to his wounds. It stung a little but she was so gentle, it soothed him. His eyes felt heavy, he had to stay awake, he had to be ready for the demon to emerge. But he was so tired.