3. Chapter 2
3
Chapter 2
Julen
Julen looked up as Souzie returned to her bedroom carrying a drink and an ice pack. Fury blazed in her eyes. “What I wouldn’t give to cut off that man’s balls and shove ‘em down his fucking throat.”
The softness of her bed enveloped Julen like a cloud, and the lavender walls and warm candlelight soothed his racing mind.
Souzie continued, “I bet his dick is deformed. Like, abnormally small or split down the middle like a two-headed snake. Something bizarre like that.”
Julen chuckled and hissed at the pain it caused his side. “Please don’t talk about my father’s penis,” he begged.
“I’m just saying, there has to be reason why he’s such an awful fucking bastard. My guess is a tiny cock.”
Souzie knew first-hand how awful King Haligran could be. Julen and Souzie met in an education facility on a military compound before Haligran seized control of Lapistra. They were each other’s everything. Souzie was the only person Julen had ever confided in about his sexuality, and she guarded it with her life, a life that Julen had saved.
Souzie rested the ice pack on Julen’s side. “That will help with the bruising.” Then handed him the glass. “And this will help with your nerves.”
He sipped, and the strong intoxin smacked his taste buds and threw him into a coughing fit. Through gasping breaths, he looked up at Souzie and pouted, “I thought this was water! How about a warning if you’re going to poison me?” He set the drink on her nightstand.
Souzie rolled her eyes. “The last thing you need is water . You should get downright soused. Especially after the day you just had.”
Julen turned onto his stomach, burying his head in her pillow. “Don’t remind me.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and caressed his back. “I’m so sorry, love. It must have been awful.”
He shook his head in disbelief. He had trained so hard. “How can this be? What’s wrong with me?”
Souzie cocked her head, and her eyes narrowed, deep in thought. “Maybe wind manipulation isn’t your power? Maybe you were destined to be a shapeshifter.” Her grin reached both ears. “I could see you changing into a beautiful bird or a pretty little butterfly! That would fit your personality perfectly.”
Julen shook his head. “I wish, but that ship has sailed.”
On Vexora, geography determined the manifestation of power. Lapistreans controlled the wind, whereas Rugireans, their rivals on the continent of Terratan, could shapeshift.
Souzie leaned down and gave Julen a kiss on his temple. “You’ll manifest in time, darling. I’m sure of it.”
He closed his eyes. “I just wish I could escape. Just for a little bit. I hate this place.”
Souzie cleared her throat. Julen peeked up to see her devious smirk. “An escape, you say?” She waggled her brows.
Julen knew exactly what she meant. “No! No, Souzie. I can’t do that. My father would kill me.”
Souzie shook her finger at Julen. “Yes. You. Can! This is your life. You’re nineteen, Julen! Fuck him, fuck your mother, fuck that little shrew they’re forcing you to marry and come with me to Cupidor!”
Cupidor: the neutral zone separating Lapistra from Rugiria. Ancient texts attributed power manifestation to vibrations in Vexora’s tectonic plates, but Cupidor, located on a divergent boundary, was an area where both Lapistreans and Rugireans were unable to manifest their magic. Over time, it became a refuge for the outcasts of both territories and slowly evolved into a raucous red-light district. Souzie had been begging Julen to go with her for years.
Julen shook his head. This was a terrible idea. The worst. “But what if someone sees me? What if a Rugirean attacks me? What if my father finds out?”
Souzie rolled her eyes and waved her hand flippantly. “We’ll disguise you. Don’t be such a ninny, Julen. You need this. You need to let loose for a night. Forget about everything for just one night and have some fucking fun!”
Souzie stormed into her closet and began throwing clothing at him. “Try these on.”
Julen examined the clothing. “I can’t wear women’s clothing!”
She huffed out a guffaw. “You wouldn’t be the only man wearing women’s clothing in Cupidor, my innocent little lamb.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
Souzie began disrobing, impatience lacing her words. “I have told you countless times how it is in Cupidor! You’d know if you ever came with me. Put something on. Now! ”
Julen took off his black leather battle tog and tried to squeeze his body into Souzie’s pants. “I don’t think I’m going to fit…”
“Ugh. Here.” Souzie stomped over and tried to force the trousers over his ass to no avail. “Dammit! Your ass is too big, Julen!”
Julen giggled as she continued forcing the pants up. “It’s my only asset. ” He winked.
Souzie groaned and rolled her eyes. “Maybe steer away from comedy tonight, love.” She looked about the room. “What can you wear?”
Her gaze fell to the battle tog crumpled on the floor. Her eyes grew wide as she picked it up. “You don’t need this anymore, do you?”
Julen released a cynical laugh. “No, I was ‘regretfully’ not offered a spot in the military.”
Souzie walked to her bedside table and pulled out a dagger. Julen loved that she kept knives near her bed.
She came from a long line of warriors and began training as a child. Those lessons ended four years ago when Julen’s father orchestrated a coup and seized government control from King Morab. Souzie’s father had served as Morab’s chief advisor; when Haligran ascended to the throne, he imprisoned him and would have done the same to Souzie, or worse, but Julen intervened, pleading with his father to spare her. To Julen’s astonishment, Haligran agreed, but only under the condition that she would be exiled from courtly affairs and kept out of his sight. He was determined to purge any remnants of Morab’s rule from the governance of Lapistra.
Souzie flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the handle. She then handed Julen both the tog and the knife. “Take this piece of shit garment and slice it into the femboy escort look it ought to be .”
Julen’s stomach clenched. He whispered, “I can’t.”
“ Yes! You! CAN! ” Souzie stomped her foot on the last word, inciting the neighbors below to pound on their ceiling with a stick. “Make this thing your whipping boy. Take all that rage and slash it into whatever your heart desires.”
She handed him the dagger and the tog. He examined the blade as it glistened under the candlelight. This tool had power, and Julen felt powerful holding it. The black tog drooped in his other hand. He frowned at it, his mind replaying the dreadful showcase over and over again.
This disgusting uniform symbolized everything he hated about Lapistra, everything he didn’t want to be. Fuck them. He tossed the tog into the air and caught it by the neck, then sliced through its middle. The lower half fell to the ground in a heap.
Souzie howled in delight. “Yes! Slice and dice it, love.”
Julen cackled as he tore apart the tog, his body growing hotter with each furious slash.
The dam exploded, and the rage gushed out as he brutalized the uniform. The more he slashed, the more emboldened he became. Fuck him. FUCK THEM ALL. I’ll show them. He severed the arms from the top half, then grabbed the lower half, viciously slicing into its legs. His eyes burned as he funneled his fury into the dagger, desecrating this symbol of everything he wasn’t.
He carried the two torn pieces to Souzie’s mirror and slipped them on—the sleeveless top fit snugly, ending just below his sternum, exposing the alabaster skin of his midriff. The pants hung low on his hips, slashes revealing glimpses of his legs and ass. He grabbed a pin from Souzie’s vanity to keep them up.
He looked at himself. A knot of fear formed in his throat as visions of his father’s fury flashed through his mind. Taking a deep breath, he pushed them aside. This isn’t the castle. He’s not here. You’re with Souzie. Souzie must have had a window open as a tranquil breeze soothed his trembling body, pulling him out of his ruminations.
Souzie glided into view, admiring her reflection momentarily before noticing his. “You. Look. Sizzling. I could mount you like a steed.”
She wore a black netted gown that hugged her elegantly slender neck and draped down the front of her body, exposing her ebony skin at the back. The lower half split to reveal a leg and a black corset underneath. In her high-heeled black boots, she stood a bit taller than Julen. He couldn’t help but smile at their reflection.
“Holy Vexora. We look like courtesans ready for crime,” Julen remarked.
“Oh! Almost forgot.” Souzie sauntered over to the vanity and returned carrying eye shadow. “This will help disguise you.” She applied a ton of eyeshadow on him, the brush stroking the entirety of the top half of his face.
He turned back to the mirror and gasped. Souzie had applied shadow to create the illusion of a masquerade mask, making him unrecognizable. His green eyes glowed against the dark shadow. He looked…beautiful. His heart bloomed.
Souzie examined her handiwork. “Perfect. What can I say? I’m an artist.” She snorted and kissed his cheek.
Julen looked in the mirror. “I can’t believe this.” He turned and admired her outfit. “You look fucking lethal! Did you make that?”
Souzie was an expert knifesman as well as a seamstress. It’s how she supported herself after the imprisonment of her father.
She beamed with pride. “Yes, I did.”
Julen shook his head with wonder. “That’s incredible.” He inched closer to examine the garment. “Is that fisherman netting?” He asked.
Souzie’s eyes betrayed the truth, but still she denied it. “No! I would never. How dare you!”
Julen smirked. She poked fun at him relentlessly. It was a rare occasion to have the chance to give it back, and he wasn’t about to miss the opportunity. “I thought I smelled something. I just assumed it was you.” He grinned and bit his lip, waiting for her enraged retort.
Souzie gasped and her eyes widened. “You bitch! ” She laughed and wielded a small gust of wind to muss his hair.
He yelped and whined, “My hair!”
Souzie approached Julen, a maniacal smile stretched across her face. “You know I could take that knife and dig every freckle out of that earnest little face of yours.”
Julen cocked a brow and leaned in. Their noses almost touched. “You couldn’t catch a dead hog in those heels, and you’re certainly not catching me!” He took off in a flash.
“Don’t you run away from me!” Souzie screamed. “I need help walking in these!”
She shot another gust of wind to blow the door shut, but Julen was too fast. He escaped just before it closed.
Julen heard her call out as he ran. “Don’t make me kick these boots off and chase you to Cupidor!”
He stopped by the front door, and keeled over in laughter. Souzie rounded the corner and approached him, holding the drink. “You little shit.”
Julen couldn’t stop laughing. Soon, she laughed with him and said, “Look who’s smiling again.” She winked and handed him the glass. “Help me finish this drink.”
He took another sip and coughed. “Ugh, it’s awful. You’re no tapster, Souzie.”
She took the glass and sipped it, too. “Hmm…it is a bit strong, but it’s better than most of the swill in Cupidor.” She set the glass down on a table by the door, then held her arm out for Julen to take. “Come, love, our chariot awaits. And by chariot, I mean the mini-cart you’re flagging for us because I can barely walk in these fucking clodhoppers.”
He swallowed his nerves and linked arms with her, feeling the warmth of his best friend—the friend who had just pulled him out of his misery in her signature, devilish way.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She smiled and brushed the back of her hand down his cheek. “Anytime, love.”