18. In the Boudoir
In the Boudoir
T he heat of the day was defeated by another summer storm. Cooling winds and dark clouds roiled through a deep, magenta sky and Jezebel paced anxiously back and forth across the black and white tiles of her boudoir. She was anxious, and determined that nothing could go wrong tonight. Her dress was a shade that matched the dusk sky. Magenta velvet feathers trailed from her shoulder to the floor, with a long gap that curved up her left leg and exposed her skin all the way to the hip, before crossing her belly and hugging the curve of her right breast. Mila marvelled at the seamstress’s talent and what she’d been able to create under such conditions. The dress moved with the beautiful woman’s body, never peeling away or revealing more than it was designed to, and yet the design itself was artfully revealing.
By contrast, Jezebel had decided Mila should wear a hessian sack. Without a handmaid’s assistance, Mila placed the sack over her head and tried not to notice the smell of potato, or the tiny bugs that still lived inside the rough fabric. She couldn't have cared less how she looked, but it frightened her that Jezebel seemed to care. The jealousy that lurked inside her was never far away, and she was certainly suspicious that Culis’s visit to her chambers had only eventuated because of something to do with Mila.
Mila knew there was truth to her fear.
The man had gone out of his way to save her from execution, and also made an effort to ensure she understood that this had been his intention. Why? Did he simply want sex? Sex with a demon? Was it as simple as that? Something told her otherwise. She hadn’t sensed any lust from him that morning when she’d been licking his foot. His energy had all been extremely calculated.
No, Culis had some other plan afoot that involved her, and it made her very nervous.
A sharp rap at the door announced his presence, and Jezebel released a long, deep breath. She glanced swiftly around the room, conducting a final inspection before nodding in approval to her handmaid to open the door.
Right before the door swung open, she glanced at Mila. Almost as an afterthought, she hissed, “Down.”
Mila dropped to all fours immediately, understanding that to have Jezebel feeling threatened by her right now was very dangerous for her life expectancy.
When Christopher Culis entered the boudoir, with his hair combed neatly into a bun and his white shirt unbuttoned down to the top of his chest, the scene before him was staged to perfection. The breathtaking Jezebel was posed in the wide, round windowsill, adorned in her magnificent dress. She was lit to perfection by candles, mirrors, and jars of Golden Sand that cleverly diffused the light and made her seem more curvaceous, and somewhat otherworldly all at the same time. Two dead peacocks lay at her feet, and the golden lead trailed from her wrist to the neck of her pet demon, whose head was bowed as she knelt on all fours, clad in a hessian sack. It was the perfect portrait of power and subservience.
“Well, well,” Culis murmured as he surveyed the scene and approached them. “You never disappoint, Jezebel.” He raised a hand to her face and stroked it before kissing her deeply.
Jezebel instantly dropped Mila’s lead, her hands flying up into his hair, and Mila seized the opportunity to scuttle away, back to her designated mat, hoping to avoid either monster’s attention.
The night that followed was intense, but Mila noted that Culis refused to fully give in to the princess's demands. Jezebel tried to initiate sex several times, but he always evaded deftly. He teased her, brought her to the brink of climax, but continually refused to put her over the edge. Despite her best attempts to resist reading Jezebel’s energy, Mila couldn’t help but feel the princess’s frustration and lust broadcasting loudly though the room. For a few blinding seconds at one point, Mila was overcome by Jezebel’s desire for the man – an alien energy to her own. It was terrifying and confusing and made her feel hot in her own skin.
Eventually, the princess became enraged, but also seemed unwilling to unleash her frustration wholly, as though fearful Culis would view it as a childish tantrum and would be even more unlikely to satisfy her in his displeasure. She was aware enough to know he was playing some sort of game, and she tried to have patience with it, rather than take it to heart. It was the most self-restraint Mila had ever sensed coming from the woman, and it made her realise that Culis was more than just a conquest to Jezebel. She truly felt something for him, or at least, wanted him to feel something for her.
It was such a convoluted situation that, despite Culis’s earlier insistence that Mila be present for the occasion, both seemed to forget she was in the room. Mila had never been more grateful to be invisible .
She watched them cautiously out of the corner of her eye, frightened that the power of her gaze could draw their attention, but still compelled to watch the silent politics play out. After over an hour of insufferable torture, she watched as Culis lent over the bed and pulled a phallic object carved from jade from the pocket of the waistcoat he’d discarded on the floor. He returned to where Jezebel lay and pressed it between her legs enabling her to reach her peak and tumble over the edge into climax. Finally.
Afterwards, they both lay back, seemingly exhausted and content to let sleep take them, but Mila knew Jezebel hadn’t expected any of this. She’d expected sex and then for Culis to leave her quarters soon after. The fact that he was staying, curled around her with an unexpected amount of tenderness, was disarming. Mila sensed her confusion, but also her delight. Jezebel embraced the moment, sighing contentedly and quickly falling deeply asleep.
Mila soon followed suit, grateful to be alive another day longer than she’d ever thought she’d be.
* * *
Mila was awakened deep in the night by Culis rousing from the bed and moving quickly towards her. His long blond hair had fallen askew from the bun and was hanging over his face in a shaggy and dishevelled manner. Sleep ringed his eyes, but nevertheless, he had a determined air. He moved towards her with such speed and purpose that, for a moment, Mila thought he was coming to kill her.
When he reached her, though, he knelt down and addressed her softly. “Hello, little demon.” His tired eyes had a glimmer to them. “I’ve been waiting a long time for the opportunity to speak to you alone.”
It all became obvious then .
This entire evening with Jezebel had been orchestrated simply to have this conversation with her.
Mila tried to calm her racing heart while he waited for her to respond. He stared her dead in the eye, entirely un-self-conscious of the fact he was completely naked.
Mila couldn’t help but stare back at him. He had a traveller’s body, one made up of lean, sinewy muscle and a broad chest, carved by the practicalities of lifting heavy cargo from one ship to another. There were a few scars across his body that also stood out in the moonlight, the largest being a jagged pink line across his upper thigh that looked only recently healed. His gold earring was caught in the newly escaped curls that tousled down the nape of his neck and glinted cheekily out at her in the candlelight. He was tall, but he did not need height to dominate a room. His energy and presence did it well enough for him.
When it became obvious that Mila was not going to speak, Culis said, “I cannot risk Jezebel waking and seeing us conversing in such a manner, so for both our sakes, it’s best that you answer my questions quickly and without subterfuge. I want to know about your power. Tell me exactly how it works.”
Of all the things, she’d expected him to say in that moment, this was not it.
“I can sense the energy of living things,” she replied softly.
“You misunderstand. I mean, how exactly do demon powers work? Explain the specifics to me. I assume your horns have something to do with it?”
“Why should I tell you?” she demanded, suddenly suspicious, concerned that this information might have repercussions for other besides herself.
“Because your situation here is utterly unique and it has intrigued me.”
“So far, capturing your intrigue has not been in my best interest.”
He didn’t seem offended. “My intrigue saved your life today,” he said, “and you may yet find it continues to do so, especially if you can prove yourself useful to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“This – ” he gestured around them, “ – is obviously not an ideal situation for you. You’ve lost your freedom. You serve at the whim of a – ” he glanced back over at Jezebel’s sleeping form, “ – and, well…the threat of your inevitable sacrifice draws ever closer every day.”
“Yes, thank you. You’ve summed it up quite succinctly.” Mila kept her tone low and cutting.
Culis smirked. “Nice to see there’s still a spark buried in there somewhere.”
She pursed her lips and did not respond, sensing a trap.
He let the silence linger for a moment, studying her. Then he said, almost gently, “While I know this isn’t ideal, the alternative is your death – and you haven’t chosen that. You’re fighting to live, I can see that. I respect that.”
“Make your point,” Mila demanded, unwilling to play into his game.
“Fine,” Culis snapped, his act of sympathy extinguishing like a blown candle. “Here’s what I want. I want to buy you from Jezebel. I want you to willingly serve me instead.”
“Wha – Why would I do that?” she demanded, her heart hammering painfully in her chest at his words.
“Because your time here is nearly done,” he said softly, and for a moment, a sliver of a moment, she thought she caught a true glimpse of the kindness and sympathy she’d seen in the face of the man she’d met in the crypt all those months ago, although, without touching him, she had no way to know if it was genuine .
“You want to save me?” she asked incredulously.
His mask snapped back on. “I want to use you, your power,” he corrected. “And I can’t do that if you’re dead.”
“What would serving you entail?” she asked softly.
“A vast number of things,” he said. “Now is clearly not the time or place for detail.” He threw a wary glance back over in Jezebel’s direction again.
Mila didn’t know what to say. She was stunned into silence at the proposition.
“This is obviously unexpected,” he said. “So, I’ll leave you now to think on it. It is your choice. Make sure you think it through thoroughly. I don’t want you if you’re going to be uncooperative. Come willingly or not at all.” He waited for her faint nod before continuing. “The one last thing I’ll say is this. You’ve no doubt realised by now that I am not a particularly good or kind man. I am not a moral person, and I have no qualms about doing what needs to be done to get my own way. But if you can trust one thing about me it is that I like to make money, and I look out for the interests of those who help me acquire more money. If you agree to work with me, I will use you to help make me obscenely rich. What I will not do is use you as Jezebel has done. You may not like all the things I require from you, but you will never be forced to be my personal plaything, or anyone else’s, for that matter. That much I promise you.”
He held her gaze intently as he spoke, as though imploring her to believe him, and it occurred to her that if he didn’t know she couldn’t read his energy, then surely he would not be trying to lie now.
“Or, alternatively,” he said, “you can remain here, under the yoke of Jezebel’s insanity until the next Sacrament and you find yourself kneeling before the incoming thumb of the God-King. I’ll leave you to mull it over. ”
With that, he nodded abruptly, stood up, and silently donned a robe before slipping out the door.
Mila watched him leave, and when she was able to breathe again and properly consider his proposal, she began to tremble.