That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King’s Slave Mate Novel

Chapter 97: Surely, there must be some herbs or remedies to make this heat go away. There has to be!

Emeriel was aware that her thinking was not rational. If there was an herb, wouldn't Madam Livia have already provided it to her?

But in her panicked and desperate state, Emeriel couldn't entertain rational thoughts. She had to escape the confines of her room rather than lie down and endure the torment of her heat.

A contraction seized her, and she cried out, doubling over in pain. She tried to stifle her cries, not wanting to alert the soldiers. Panting heavily, she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the episode to pass.

When it finally subsided, tears streamed down her face. The ache was all-consuming. Her entire body felt ablaze with desire.

"Prince Emeriel?"

The familiar voice reached her before Amie came into view. The girl hastily adjusted her clothes, and through Emeriel's blurred vision, she noticed the red marks on Amie's face as she approached and touched her arm.

"Are you alright?"

Her skin crawled, and Emeriel jerked her arm away.

"Who is that slave? What business do you have wandering in the night?" a soldier demanded, his footsteps drawing nearer.

Amie stepped in front of Emeriel, shielding her. "Everything is fine here, soldier. This slave was merely returning from an errand for Madam Livia. There is no cause for concern."

"Useless humans! Return to your quarters if you wish to avoid flogging this instant," barked the soldier in a low voice as he adjusted his clothing.

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"Thank you, sir. We will leave now," Amie said, taking Emeriel's hand, ignoring the wince of pain that crossed Emeriel's face. Together, they began to walk away.

"Same time tomorrow, Amie. Do not make me seek you out," the soldier called out, his words laced with a threat. A deep sadness etched over Amie's face. "Of course, sir," she responded with feigned cheerfulness.

As they reached the servant's quarters, Amie finally slowed her pace. Another spasm gripped Emeriel, causing her to wrench herself free from Amie's grasp.

She pressed her body against the wall and began to desperately rub against it, seeking relief.

Tiny whimpers escaped her throat, soon turning into painful groans as the stimulation only left her more frustrated.

When the episode subsided, Emeriel slid to the floor. She drew her knees up and tightly squeezed her legs together, resting her head upon them. "It hurts… it hurts."

"I'm sorry," Amie said pitifully. "What can I do to ease your suffering?"

Emeriel shook her head, then raised it and let it rest against the wall. Sweat drenched her face, pouring down from her forehead.

"You know, um… it might be easier if you met with one of the soldiers," Amie suggested tentatively. "You could venture into the woods. The guards stationed there would not recognize you in your nightgown, your breasts free and your hair unbound. You could seek… relief there."

Would it truly be so terrible?

Emeriel groaned at the thought. Even entertaining the notion was a testament to how bad her condition had gotten. How desperate she had become.

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