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with the king, they drained my water. me, my king
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The heavy wood of the royal room, closed softly behind her. The rest of the noise of the palace was left out. She stood barefoot on the cold marble. The thin silk layer of her lehenga had already come off half from the waist. In the middle of the room, on the edge of a huge carved cot, sat the king. His tunic was open on the chest, the gold embroidery glistening in the light of the lamps. His gaze was slowly wandering over her entire body, as if they were already owning every inch of her skin.
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