"Remove it, or I'll have it removed with your head," he slurred, and chills stuttered on every inch of my skin.
I panted behind the thin fabric protecting me, too anxious to even move. Reaching the brink of impatience, the King took matters into his own hands and ripped it from my face. My chest stuttered, something as innate as breathing impossible for me to do. I could feel my heart trembling like a kid with a relentless cold. The panic was beginning, a dense cloud of dread that would soak my lungs and suffocate me from the inside. I'd be immobile. I'd be too vulnerable in that paralyzed state.
Not here. Not in front of him.
The King stepped back, the sturdiness of his legs compromised due to the alcohol, and he studied me with a sloppy, victorious grin. "You will do your best to mind your business from now on if you don't wish to have your dedication to my son terminated early."
