Chapter 8
Durin
Bathed? Consort?
The empath’s hand goes slack on my shoulder as if he’s as shocked as I am. I’m not the pampered type. I don’t obsess over my looks or waste time glamouring myself. The queen’s companion would be expected to meet a pretty lofty standard of beauty. Why would she want me?
The sensual nature of a consort’s duties is unsettling enough. But what’s worse is that each time the queen takes a new consort, the old one disappears. Gone. They never return to their old villages or show up at festivals or in the markets. If she decides I’m not good enough, I could meet the same end.
I bow to her, feigning my gratitude so she won’t see how sickened I am at her announcement.
Satisfied, she waves at Folas to escort me out of the room. He mutters to himself as he leads me through another dim hallway and ushers me into a royal dining hall with one massive wooden table in the center and dozens of chairs sitting around it.
“Sit somewhere,” he grumbles.
He walks off and mutters something at the guards by the door before leaving the room. I lower myself into a chair at the center of the empty table. The place is deserted, the atmosphere as lifeless as everything else in this dreary palace. It’s late afternoon, but I’d expect to at least see a few nobles here. Perhaps there are specific meal times that I’ve not been informed of yet.
A dim chandelier hangs over me, casting a soft glow on the pale table beneath. Still, the edges of the room remain in shadows. I look around, unsurprised by the lack of color and life in the room. The high ceiling is carved in a pattern of inset squares and swirls. Sheer curtains made of delicate, expensive fabrics line the walls. But it’s all white, adding to the chill.
The entire castle is sharp and cold. I’m used to the blue glow of the calantars in the evenings and the chatter and laughing that constantly floated through my village. Even though I drifted away from them, the atmosphere was much more comforting. It’s awful here.
It’s not long before two silver-haired fae glide into the room behind Folas with trays full of food. In seconds, a lavish spread of fresh breads, savory meats, an array of cheeses, and roasted vegetables sits before me. The enticing aromas drift into my nose and wake up an appetite I thought I’d lost in the woods so many years ago.
Folas and the servants retreat from the room, and I’m left to myself again. I eye the food in front of me, feeling wary of it at first. The queen wouldn’t poison me, would she? If she plans to use me for my magic and my body, what good would poisoning me do? I’ll need the energy, so I have no choice, really.
I dig into the meal and smile to myself as bites that I haven’t taken disappear. Farris is enjoying the spoils, too. His presence is reassuring, but he’ll need to leave soon. He’s in danger of being discovered. I’d do anything to protect him, but I don’t want to test how far my sway goes around here. So far, I just feel like a glorified prisoner.
When I’ve had my fill, I drain my third glass of wine, welcoming the numbness that settles over me. I have a feeling I’ll need it for what’s coming after my bath. I’m well aware of what a consort is. I know what will be expected of me. The thought makes the meal churn in my stomach and anger burn inside me. But I have to play along if I want any of this to be worth something.
As soon as I lean back from the table, Folas appears and grunts at me to stand. I trail behind him out of the fancy hall, fully aware of the guards who casually follow after us. As we walk, I memorize every detail of each long corridor we pass through. I need to be able to find my way around this castle without having to rely on others.
The walls of each corridor are distinctly decorated, which will make them easier to remember. The first one is lined with white tapestries, covered in gray depictions of the high fae who live in the realm. The fae are, of course, exalted above the other species in the gruesome scenes. I only need to recognize the look of the corridor, not every grisly detail. I turn away from the images of shifters, elves, and kelpies being slaughtered and humiliated by the fae.
The second hallway we pass through is lined with skins of furry lesser fae creatures, while the third is adorned with carvings of Faerie’s various landscapes. They’re beautiful, but carved in white wood, they look like an omen of the realm’s future if the queen stays in control.
At the end of the third hallway, I see two guards stationed outside a tall, wooden door. One guard opens it and steps back to let us through while the other leads us inside. I follow Folas into a plush and surprisingly colorful bedroom. It’s spacious and oddly inviting, with a fire crackling in the stone fireplace and thick, vibrant furs draped over the bed. There’s a seating area with a table and two chairs and a small window overlooking a white stone patio at the back of the castle.
It’s a welcome change from the rest of the cold, lifeless castle I’ve seen so far. Perhaps the depressing decor has been too hard on her consorts over the years, and she’s had to make adjustments.
“The bathing chamber is through there,” Folas says haughtily, pointing at another doorway.
As I enter the room, I find two silver-haired fae in light gray tunics tending to a steaming tub in the center of the room. Many of the fae I’ve seen today have silver hair. I wonder if it’s a sign of servitude in the castle. It’s as if she’s had them glamoured to blend in with the dull castle walls.
Folas glares at me from the doorway. “Don’t get any ideas,” he warns. “The queen is more powerful than you could ever imagine. You might be able to catch her off guard for a second, but it would be the last second of your life. You’d die painfully, along with everyone from whatever pathetic little village you came from.”
My chest aches at the thought of causing my village’s slaughter. I’ll have to be very cautious moving forward. I can’t put innocent lives at risk just to potentially save others. Folas has gotten to me, just as he wanted, but I won’t let him see it. I feel no power coming from him, and I don’t even know what his role is here. He is no one, and I won’t let him mistakenly believe he has any control over me. I stare at him aloofly before turning my gaze back to the tub.
“I’ll be waiting in your chambers to present you to the queen,” he says. “I have no desire to be here for this.”
He strides out the door, taking some of my anger with him. Good. I don’t want him here, either. I don’t want anyone in here. I just need a moment to collect myself. But it doesn’t seem I’ll be getting one as I’m left with two fae staring up at me expectantly, waiting for me to disrobe.
I feel a gentle pat on my back, then watch as a red-spotted bark beetle scurries out of the room. I whisper a warning for Farris to be careful as he makes his way through the castle. I know he can’t stay here with me. I just hope he gets out unseen.
I sigh as I drop my clothes and step into the bath. I’m not shy about my body. Fae rarely are. But it feels quite different standing bare before someone when it’s not by choice. It makes me feel dominated. And angry. But not at these fae. I doubt they want to be here, either.
This is just the first of many uncomfortable experiences I’ll have to face in this role. There’s nothing I can do but accept it if I want hope of taking anyone in this place down.
The two fae step up onto a ledge behind the tub to reach me better. They look very similar, telling me they’re likely related. One wears a sterner expression. The other is younger and seems a little more relaxed.
“Please remain standing as we bathe you,” the younger fae says.
“May I wash myself?” I ask, hoping I can at least hold onto that dignity.
“No, no, Your Highness,” the older one says, shaking her head firmly. “We have a strict routine that you won’t be able to keep up with.”
Your Highness? I supposed that’s the right way to address a consort. It feels wrong, though, like I’m on the queen’s side somehow.
“You may wash your own ears,” she says.
Thank fuck for that. Fae ears are sensitive. It’s too easy to become aroused when they’re touched, even by those you have no interest in.
I cooperate. They’re only doing what they’ve been commanded. They scrub me from head to toe with scratchy cloths, far from the luxury I’d expected. My balls are sensitive and raw by the time they’re done. My poor cock looks like I lost control of my heat magic while trying to pleasure myself. But at least my ears are spared.
Despite the physical discomfort, these fae have been swift and as respectful as possible. Obviously, their touch won’t be the most offensive thing I encounter this evening. I begin to relax as they apply oils to my skin, soothing the rawness away. The scents are actually quite pleasant. And the way they scratch my scalp with their nails is oddly satisfying. I feel my body relax, and I let my thoughts slip away, pretending to have a moment to myself.
I’m snapped out of my haze when the older fae lifts my arms, and the younger one slathers cream underneath them.
My mind struggles to catch up. Do I really smell that bad after all that scrubbing? But before I can fully process what’s happening, they’ve already swiftly shaved each area, leaving my skin oddly smooth and unfamiliar.
And I hate it.
My body was mostly smooth already, except for my underarms and the curls on my groin. I liked how I looked. Why did they need to remove it? When I feel a tug on the hair at the base of my cock, I jump out of the tub, nearly slipping on the cold stone floor.
“Can’t I just glamour it away?” I ask, surprising myself with how desperate I am to keep it.
The two fae exchange a look. I feel a stab of embarrassment at my juvenile behavior. But it doesn’t matter how silly I look to them. I don’t want to lose this part of myself. It’s mine.
“How skilled are you at glamouring?” the young fae asks.
The older one gasps at her and begins to protest. But this is my chance. Instead of responding, I glamour my curls away, ensuring no trace of them remains. I rarely use glamour, but I know how to do it. And I’m damn good at it.
The kinder fae grins at me, but the other one huffs and shuffles over. She begins poking at me, testing my work. It’s flawless, so I’m not concerned. But that unsettling feeling returns as I’m touched without my permission again.
I push it away. This servant means no harm. It’s just her job. And I can only imagine how past consorts may have treated her. Ones who actually wanted to be here. I let her continue until she’s satisfied and nods in approval.
They pat me dry and dress me in a pale blue silk robe fit for a king. I guess that’s the point. Still, I have no delusions of what my status truly is. Especially when I walk back into my room and see Folas standing in the doorway, waiting to lead me to the queen.
“Well, don’t you look lovely,” he mocks. “I don’t see why she even bothers with a robe. She must enjoy unwrapping her consorts… like little gifts to herself.”
He smirks, looking for a reaction. But I’m too disciplined for that. I chain down my humiliation and rage and stare blankly at him as if he’d said nothing at all. His role is unclear to me. Retaliating without that information would be foolish. But I’ll be keeping a tally of how many times he slights me, and he’ll pay dearly for each one.
I easily match Folas’s pace as he stomps down unfamiliar corridors, leading me deeper into the castle and farther away from the main entrance. I focus on the new walls as we pass, adding to the map I’ve begun in my mind. It’s a helpful distraction from the disgust rising inside me for what I’m being led to do.
We stop at the very end of the hallway before a set of tall, imposing wooden doors. They’re guarded by the crooked-nosed empath and one other soldier. Folas stands beside them, tapping his fingers against his thigh impatiently. Instead of opening the doors, the guards continue facing the opposite wall. The other soldier waves his hand, and a large tapestry transforms into a hidden door.
Clever. The ornate doors are a decoy, and the true one is illusioned. Only those closest to the queen would know. I take note of the fae who lowered the illusion. I’ll have to learn his name later, but his face and ability are already burned into my memory.
I wonder how many other parts of the castle are illusioned like this. Fortunately, unlike glamours, one can physically feel through an illusion. I’ll just have to get personal with the castle walls and examine them all.
The true door is more subtle, half the height, and carved with two simple rectangular insets. The guards step forward and position themselves in front of it. One of them pulls it open and stands aside to let me enter.
My chest tightens when I glimpse a tall bedpost through the open door. This all suddenly feels too real.
I’m given no instruction or escort. They simply shove me in and close the door behind me. I had hoped for a moment to gather my thoughts before the queen arrived, to study the room and any possible exits. And now, consider areas that might be illusioned. But the surge of power that greets me the moment I step inside tells me she’s already here. I find her lounging on the massive bed, draped in a sheer white robe. She’s propped up on an elbow, already trailing her eyes down my body.
My own robe covers most of my skin, but I feel exposed. Every slope and bulge are visible through the silky material. Seeing her gaze rest on the outline of my cock feels far more violating than being washed by the servants. It feels like she’s stealing something from me. And I want it back.
I move closer, bowing my head to block out her too-beautiful smile and too-observant eyes. I want to flee and return to my family. To make up for the moments I missed with them. But I can’t go back. I brought this upon myself. I took the happy life I could have had and spent years turning it into this one. All for revenge against a single fae.
It’s becoming clear that, despite dying, Mitah has defeated me. I wasted four years of my life consumed by thoughts of him. I’m now left with a lifetime of service to the queen, all for a death that was over in an instant. A death that did nothing to bring the innocent shifter back.
If I’m going to fix my mistakes, I have to start by gaining the queen’s trust and excelling in both of my roles. I need access to the castle and forest in order to weaken her nobility and ultimately, herself. It all begins right here in this bed.
I shut down my true emotions and concentrate on feigning ones that will please her. This test of my loyalty will be revolting, but the reward will be invaluable if I pull it off.
However, if I fail, it could mean my life. But who knows? I may be wishing for that outcome once this evening is over.
“Is there a problem?” the queen asks as I find myself staring into space instead of her practically naked body.
Shit. I should be fawning over her, showering her with compliments. “Apologies, my queen,” I tell her, dropping to my knees beside the bed. “I’m honored to be in your presence.”
“Answer,” she says, brushing off my flattery.
I can’t lie, but luckily, there are a million things bothering me. All I have to do is pick one that won’t anger her.
“They shaved me,” I say, lowering my eyes.
That one really did hit hard, and the look on my face should be convincing. The queen is silent for too long. I keep my nerves buried and chance another look up at her. She searches my eyes for a moment before chuckling.
I was afraid she was suspicious, but I feel at ease now that she’s laughing at me. How muddy my life has become.
“I prefer my lovers smooth,” she says, still wearing an amused grin. She leans back against the pillows and motions for me to stand. “Rise, and join me.”
I do as she says, climbing on the bed to kneel before her.
“Remove your robe,” she commands, letting her gaze slither down my body again.
I undo the tie and grit my teeth as the silk slips over my shoulders. A scratchy purr escapes from her throat as she sits up to assess me. The thirst for revenge I thought died with Mitah ignites in me again. The heat consumes everything inside me.
It wants out. It wants blood.
How long will I be able to bear this? Maybe I should strike now while she’s distracted. She’d never expect someone to be so foolish.
As if she could hear my thoughts, she sheds her own robe so quickly it seems to just disappear. It’s a jolt back to reality, highlighting the power imbalance between us. Attacking now would be a huge mistake. There’s no getting out of this duty if I want to get out of this room alive.
I feign interest as she reclines before me and spreads her legs. The queen is indeed beautiful. But I know what her guts look like. She’s manipulative, sadistic, and cold. I can see through this perfect shell, down to her wrinkles and rubbery skin. I hear the age in her rusty voice and sense the evil flowing through her veins.
And it’s making it difficult for me to become aroused.
She smiles as I appear to thoroughly admire her form. Really, I’m just trying to get my body to cooperate. But even if I manage to get my cock to rise, how do I begin? She’s clearly particular about things.
“How shall I pleasure you, my queen?” I ask, hoping for some guidance since I can’t seem to spark my imagination.
“Pleasure is pleasure, Durin,” she says, watching my hands rest reluctantly on my thighs instead of touching her.
I think back to my few intimate encounters over the years. There’s not much to draw inspiration from. They simply filled a need for release. I’m completely out of my element here. What good is a consort who’s unable to perform?
By some mercy, a rush of arousal builds in my abdomen. It shoots down my unimpressed cock, causing it to spring to life. The queen growls at the sight and wraps me in a tight cocoon of her dark magic.
The lust consumes me, and I’m suddenly raging for release. But the queen’s magic is suffocating. I feel trapped and defensive. And I haven’t forgotten my anger or my hatred for her. How am I to perform in this warring state of rage and arousal?
Just as I fear my face will betray me, I sense a familiar presence. A false feeling, almost like a glamour. The same feeling I had when I knelt before the queen’s throne and again when I was commanded to kill the mixed fae.
This arousal is not my own. The empath is still outside the door, driving me forward. I’m immediately worried that he may have sensed my disgust, but I think I’m more disgusted that this might be a regular task for him.
I don’t like my emotions being messed with. In this case, however, I welcome the loss of control. I paint on a grin that isn’t my own and bury my face between the queen’s legs, lapping at her stream like it’s a gift from Faerie itself.
She keeps her magic wound tightly around me, a blunt reminder of her power. But I move freely under her control. The false desire performs my duty for me, thoroughly satisfying the queen like she expects.
I’ll deal with the shame and repulsion later. I’m sure the duties of my primary role will be bad enough to distract me from this sickening memory.