Damien
“Don’t you think having one nurse is far too little help, your majesty?” Marcus, my guard, leaned in and whispered to me as the woman in the smudged-up, tattered dress walked over to us.
“Unlike the rest of the family, I’m fully capable of taking care of myself,” I replied. “I don’t need a bunch of handmaidens running about. Besides, I don’t think we need more people involved with me than necessary given the situation,” I murmured into his ear as the woman I’d picked reached me and timidly curtsied at me.
“What is your name?” I asked her, taking a moment to examine her. The mysterious woman’s forehead was dewy with sweat, her rust-colored hair a mess, legs scraped up, and her face had been smeared with a swipe of what looked like mud.
“Freya,” the woman replied meekly, and at
