Page 3 of Jon’s Desert Prince Dream

I dared to push my luck. With these two, our chance for a better future was actually possible. I just had to somehow relay to them how badly we’d be treated if they didn’t protect us. I was sure of that. “If you deny us, they’ll kill us. Or sell us somewhere else.”

The guard next to me shifted as if to stop me from talking, but Prince Donovan threw up a hand to stay him, his eyes never leaving mine. I thought he saw my sincerity, as I meant every word. That really was our fate unless he protected us.

Prince Donovan looked at the rest of the people still in line, his frown gathering. “Do you feel the same way? That your lives will be over if I do not protect you?”

Hesitant nods answered him, but every person nodded.

At that point, he started swearing in a language I didn’t recognize, but it sounded almost lyrical, then guttural.

Turning to his sister, he said, “We’ll take them in for now. But I’m recommending to our king he write a letter to the Orleansan base-born king telling him what a scumbag he is. We will not be doing any business with his country until he’s outlawed slavery.”

She beamed at him. “I’m in perfect agreement. You, the ugly one with the questionable morals, take these bindings off. Whatever paperwork you have on them, give it over. Then promptly leave. Your very soul darkens my walls.”

I liked the princess. She was my kind of people.

The second the collar was removed from my throat, I touched it with relief but also a wince. The skin was very raw. I’d have to keep it clean and dry as much as I could until it healed.

Prince Donovan took me by the hand and drew me with him. “You, come with me.”

I was perfectly fine following this man anywhere. I kept my hand in his and let him lead me.

We exited the courtyard and entered the palace itself. It wasn’t ostentatious in decoration, featuring smooth floors, thin rugs to pad them, and the most amazing murals painted on the walls. They didn’t rely on gold here to make things look opulent, but instead focused on art. I felt like the art did a better job.

“I must ask you some insensitive questions, I fear,” Prince Donovan apologized. “Are there no kin who would want your return?”

“I… No, not really. A sister will miss me, but it was my stepfather who sold me off.”

He frowned a little, not liking my answer. “Why were you sold? Debts?”

“Well, that was part of it, or at least the excuse he used. Really, it’s my ability that no one liked. The way they couldn’t lie or hide anything from me unnerved everyone.”

He paused at a four-way junction and tilted his head to stare at me for a long moment. “Psychics are very rare in my land, and coveted. Most psychics work for the government in some capacity or another.”

What he said didn’t entirely make sense to me. Psychics could use their powers and not be shunned for it? Not live surrounded by those who were scared or refused to engage? I’d felt so incredibly isolated my whole life that hearing this sounded like a fairy tale. I could have a career here? An actual social life, with friends and a lover?

“Was I born into the wrong country?” I blurted out, dismayed.

He gave a sad smile. “I think so. But you’re here now, and this will be home. Tell me, how much can you read from me?”

“Practically everything.” I studied his lines to see if he grew uncomfortable with it. “I don’t always understand why you have the emotion you do, but I can see it.”

“Do you see that I desire you?”

“I, uh…” Shit, was this a trick question? I would appreciate not having to answer this question. Fuck me, please let me come up with a quick, clever response.

Me?

Nothing?

Shit, I was fucked.

His eyes crinkled up a little and he grinned. “That pretty blush tells me you do. I will not touch you without your permission, rest assured.”

That did make me feel better, but at the same time, “I already knew that. You’d never force yourself on anyone.”

“Oh? You can even see that?”

“I can.”