44. Rosalina
Rosalina
I’ve worn crowns of jewels and gowns spun from starlight. I’ve waltzed with princes beneath moon-drenched skies, whispered songs in enchanted gardens, touched magic and realized it was real.
But nothing feels quite like this.
I kneel on the cold steps of a throne made of shadows with hundreds of monsters watching me. My knees ache. My spine burns. My dress, or what little there is of it, clings to my skin. One wrong move and it will fall away.
Good.
Let them watch.
Above me, Caspian shifts on the throne. I don’t look up at him, not yet. I play the part: the courtesan, the possession, the beautiful broken thing that dark princes collect like trophies.
His voice curls in my mind, velvet and sharp. Are you ready, Rose? We need to put on a convincing show. Turn all eyes away from Sira’s prize.
I’m ready.
He pauses. Then: Whatever I say…I don’t mean it.
My stomach clenches, but I nod. And you remember if I yell stop, I don’t mean it.
If you say it in my mind, he replies, we’ll know.
Another pause. Deeper now. The space between heartbeats.
When word gets passed to Sira of him using me so publicly, she’ll never believe we took the rose. Not to mention the fae will be too preoccupied to keep their eyes on an object.
I exhale. The rose. The plan. The risk.
The monsters around us don’t know. They drink and cheer and leer at me like I’m already ruined. Like I’m already his.
And I am, in ways they’ll never understand.
Caspian turns from the crowd. Shadows peel off his frame, casting long claws across the courtyard. His voice rings out, loud, cruel, and laced with triumph.
“Behold,” he snarls, gesturing, “the heir to the Vale. My whore.”
A cheer goes up, vicious and wild.
“She was once meant for light, for honor, for thrones of virtue.” He circles me, letting the onlookers drink in the sight of me on my knees, barely clothed, silent. “But now she kneels to me. As all the Vale will.”
The crowd howls, hungry.
“I will use her,” Caspian says. “And destroy her as her husband watches from above.”
Keldarion growls, grasping the bars, shaking them. Convincing performance, though I’m sure a true part of his jealousy is leaking through. It won’t be easy for him to watch this, even knowing most of the fae will forget.
“I’ll use her as I’ll use the realms,” Caspian yells. “We’ll tear down Spring, burn Winter to ash, drown Summer in shadow, and grind Autumn into dust.”
The monsters scream for it: violence, power, sex, blood. And I let my eyes lift to Caspian’s, just for a moment.
They’re burning with fury. Not at me but at this. At all of it. He hates that he was so close to becoming a part. His voice comes again, low and private, where only I can hear: I’m with you. Every breath. Every second. We’ll do this together.
The cheers grow louder.
I don’t know what I expect him to do next. Kiss me, claim me, drag me up into his lap and ravage me before the entire revel. I don’t expect this.
Caspian grips the thin fabric on my shoulder.
And rips.
The sound is brutal.
And then I’m bare.
“Since you belong to me,” Caspian purrs, “I’ll choose to do whatever I wish with you.”
The cool air hits my skin first, sending a shiver racing down my spine. My dress lies in tatters around me. My body, pale and flushed, gleams in the torchlight. Hundreds of eyes lock on to me. Hungry and leering.
I thought I’d feel vulnerable.
Instead, I feel—
Power.
A pulse of heat coils in my belly. A thrill, sharp and unexpected. I should be terrified. But Caspian’s eyes are on me now, and they aren’t vicious. They’re mine.
Caspian steps in close behind me, his breath brushing my ear.
“So beautiful, Rose,” he murmurs, so low only I can hear. “You steal their attention. You make them weak.”
His tone changes again, louder, mocking and cruel for them.
“This is what their princess looks like now,” he sneers, lifting a strand of my hair. “Naked. On her knees. Begging for the heir of the Green Flame.”
His hands move next. Not gentle. Possessive. Calloused fingers skate down my ribs, over my hips, along the inside of my thigh. Just enough to make me tremble. Enough to make the crowd believe the lie.
It feels good. Gods, it feels so good.
But wrong.
Not because it’s him but because it’s here. Because of the eyes watching us. Because of the harpies licking their lips, the goblins clawing at each other, the revelers chanting for more.
And still… I arch into his touch, begging for him.
He bends close, his lips brushing my temple. His voice is low and calm. “You’re doing perfect.”
My eyes lift to the cage above.
To Keldarion.
He’s shackled, shirtless and chained, but his gaze is unbroken. I expect fury. Rage. Maybe shame. But what I find instead makes my heart clench.
Hunger.
He wants me. Even like this. Especially like this.
Caspian sees me looking, and his jaw tightens.
Then he drops into the throne again, sprawling like a king at rest, one hand draped on the armrest, the other extended toward me.
“Come here,” he says aloud, voice laced with wicked amusement. “Sit.”
The crowd whistles and hoots.
I rise, every inch of bare skin humming with fire. I step up to the dais and climb onto his lap, my back to his chest. His hands settle on my waist, then roam. My thighs. My breasts. My throat.
The shadows ripple in delight, licking around our bodies like smoke. I let my head fall against his shoulder. He positions me like I’m nothing but a doll.
“I’m yours, Prince of Thorns,” I gasp, playing my part as thrall.
“Perfect,” he whispers in my ear. His fingers tweak a nipple so hard I arch into him. He slides a hand down my body before tapping my inner thighs.
“Cas, please,” I moan.
He laughs wickedly. “See how she begs for me? She craves my touch.”
More and more eyes are drawn to us, and with every one, Caspian coils tighter. I might get a thrill from this, but I can tell it’s angering him, to have so many eyes on what’s his.
Caspian shifts beneath me on the throne. There’s the unmistakable press of him growing stiff through the thin fabric of his trousers. And gods help me, I react. Heat flashes through my core, unbidden and dangerous, shame and desire tangling like thorned vines.
His hands are everywhere. Stroking my thighs. Palming my breast. Fingers dancing over me like I’m an instrument he’s claimed. Like my only purpose is to be used.
And the worst part is I like it. I really like this.
Even as my cheeks flush, even as the monstrous crowd leers and laughs, even as shadows swirl like eager tongues around my ankles, I burn for him.
And then he slides a hand between my legs.
I tense for a breath, and he feels it.
Shush, Flower, he murmurs in my mind. Just me. Only me. I’ve got you.
His fingers slip through my folds, finding where I’m already wet. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. A moan claws its way up my throat, and I swallow it.
But he wants the crowd to hear.
He presses deeper, firm and deliberate. “So easy to break, this one. Look how wet she is just from my voice. The heir to the Vale, coming on my fingers like a common whore.”
Our audience howls with laughter and lust.
I don’t look at them. I can’t.
So I gaze up, past the smoke and fire, to the cage above.
Keldarion watches me. His hands are clenched around the bars, white-knuckled. His chest rises and falls too fast. He doesn’t turn away.
He gets what Caspian is doing. What I’m allowing.
And he understands that it’s not real. That it is real. That I’m caught somewhere in between.
Caspian’s fingers curl just right, and my hips jerk in his lap. A whimper escapes before I can stop it.
His voice is a weapon. “See how desperate she is to be taken? How eager she is to be ruined in front of you all?”
Then he whispers in my mind. I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry. I hate them. I hate all of them for looking at you. I’ll kill every single one after this.
He’s furious.
I can feel it in his touch, in the rougher press of his palm, in the way he coils beneath me like a storm waiting to break. His jaw grinds, his teeth clench. You are mine. Not theirs. Mine.
And yet he keeps touching me. For them. For the lie.
For the plan.
I close my eyes, arch into him, and play my part. We have to for our home, for the good of the Vale.
My body trembles, and I grip his wrist as if it might break. He knows what this means. I’m about to—
His fingers curl inside me.
“Cas, I’m, I’m—”
Then he stops.
I blink up at him, heart pounding.
He grabs me. One rough hand tangles in my hair, the other gripping my waist hard enough to bruise. He pushes us to standing.
Still too many eyes on the rose, he says.
I follow his gaze. While we’ve drawn stares to be sure, still a huge crowd lingers around the pedestal.
Then he bends me sideways over the shadow throne. It’s cold against my skin, my chest pressing against something solid, though it ripples like liquid.
I hear the sound before I feel it. Briars break out from the ground. They coil around my wrists, binding me in place, coiling like vines with minds of their own. They don’t pierce my flesh, but they could. One twitch, and I know they’d bite.
The crowd goes feral. Chanting filthy encouragement.
They don’t know I can control these briars.
Caspian stands behind me, his body hard and hot and furious. One hand spreads over my back, pressing me down. “This is the Princess of the Enchanted Vale. Bent and begging. Pretty and pathetic. Mine.”
The crowd erupts, drunk on violence and spectacle and sex.
But then, through the storm of it, his voice reaches me again—low and warm and real, right into my mind. You’re doing so well, Rose. I hate this. I hate making them see you like this. But I swear, I’m here. I’ll never let them hurt you.
I breathe in sharply. My hips twitch, needy, traitorous.
Use me, Cas, I reply in his mind. I want you. I always do.
“I love you,” he whispers. Then he enters me, cock sliding all the way to the hilt.
It feels so good, to be filled after all his teases. My body flutters and pulses around him. This isn’t the slow, blissful lovemaking I’m used to. He moves fast, only the briars’ tight grip holding me in place. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks as he fills me.
I love you, he says in my mind.
And gods help me—
I love it.
I love the way he claims me with fury in his voice and worship in his thoughts. I love the way I can pretend to be used and ruined, when in truth, I’ve never felt more powerful.
So I play my part.
I cry out like I hate it. Like I’m ashamed. Like I’m helpless.
But inside, I burn. I ache for him. I take it all.
And I let them think the dark prince has broken his little flower.
Sweat drips over my body as he runs his hands along my breasts, fingertips digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. I clench, tensing around him.
“Oh, Cas,” I cry out.
“Should we let her come?” he roars, bending over me, teeth nipping at my ear. “Would you enjoy that, pet? To come around your captor’s cock like a good little whore?”
Tears of pleasure run down my cheeks as I give a needy sob. “Y-yes.”
Caspian straightens and knots a hand in my hair. “Then let’s give her what she wants.”
The crowd is a blur of color and noise, their gazes searing my skin. Fae with golden irises and forked tongues. Goblins baring sharp teeth. Harpies with wine-stained lips and laughter like screams. They’re watching, devouring me with their gazes, chanting Caspian’s name, begging for more.
Some of them have begun engaging in vile acts of their own. It reminds me of the first Below party I ever attended. I never thought I’d be the one on the throne getting publicly fucked.
Or just how much I’d like it.
How much power I’d feel in surrendering to be his plaything, the thrill of being on display. Let the crowd believe I’m a pawn. A body to be taken. A prize to be defiled.
Caspian moves behind me, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force. The briars tighten, holding me fast, and I can feel him, gods, I can feel him, every thrust laced with rage, every movement a lie to them and a promise to me.
His voice rings out above the madness, cruel and sharp. “She likes it. She pretends she doesn’t, but she lives for this. Being used. Being mine.”
Gasps, laughter, more wine spilled.
You look perfect when you’re bent over, my Rose, Keldarion’s voice says in my head. You’re going to let him spill inside you and come to me filthy.
Fuck, Kel, Caspian answers. Your voice is going to make me finish early.
I can’t help but let out a laugh at the lust and pleasure racing through our bond. It doesn’t matter that there are hundreds of people watching us. It’s just the three of us.
“Cas, I can’t hold on,” I moan.
Tears prick my eyes. From the ache. From the euphoria. From the knowledge that we’re being watched by the very monsters we plan to destroy.
Caspian’s grip tightens. The pace builds. The heat coils. My body quivers against the throne.
“Come for me, Rose,” he commands.
And I do.
My climax crashes through me like a storm of stars, hot and endless and utterly consuming. His hot pleasure courses through me. I cry out, shaking, lost in him. In us. In this terrible, beautiful lie.
The Below roars like they’ve won.
But they haven’t.
They have no idea what’s coming.
Caspian pulls out of me and releases the briars, dragging me to my feet. Stars, I wish I could kiss you right now instead of—
Roughly, he turns me to the crowd. “Look at her, dripping with me. Off to her husband she’ll go so he knows who owns her. To be fucked again and again and again until he realizes the whore she is.”
Stars, Rosie, I love you so much, he says in my mind as the briars of his and Kel’s bargain rise through the ground and wrap around me.
As they drag me under, I see Caspian tilt his head to the dangling cage and smirk. “She’s all yours, lover.”