Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
I stayed away from the dragon after that, and the queen stayed away from me. For a few months I lived in a constant state of paranoia, convinced the Fireguards would try to drag me away again and finish the job the queen had started.
But it didn’t happen.
I didn’t see L again.
Eventually I relaxed, and the months chugged on. I graduated from being a scribe apprentice to a full researcher. They left me alone to pursue my own studies with blood magick as long as I presented frequently on the topics of research they also wanted.
Easy.
“Z-Zephyr! I didn’t see you there!”
Clover dropped the basket of bread she was holding, sending the baguettes tumbling to the dirty floor. The last ritual I’d done for stealth must be working.
Or she was terrible at being self-aware. Or both?
“Come here. I want you,” I demanded, ripping the basket out of her hands and wrapping my hands around her waist and neck.
She giggled against me, her bread and basket forgotten as her skirts hiked up her waist.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to use an actual bed one day,” she teased. “Everyone is working. No one is there.”
I tightened my grip on her. The servant’s beds were worse than the boys’ dormitory but dirtier. My hair would stay louse-free, thank you very much.
“Here is fine. Wouldn’t want people to get ideas,” I soothed back, dropping her a moment to flip up my own robe.
Ideas like I loved her. Because I didn’t. Love only led to upset when people went away.
She grabbed the scruff of my robe and pulled, oddly insistent. Usually she was meek and obedient. Though the change was unexpected (and therefore irritating), I was also intrigued. What was bringing out this new side? Aside from the queen, women were mostly small and shy, were they not?
“The other girls ask about you,” Clover breathed into my ear, causing the hairs on my arms to stand up straight. “I think they’re envious of me.” Her voice was a soft pant, hardening me further.
“And?” I purred, when it became apparent she was waiting for some type of response.
“The other girls want me to share you.” Her eyes flicked up at me, swimming with lust and need. “I don’t want to share you.”
A dark, delicious thought sparked.
“What if I want to be shared?” I nuzzled into her neck, hopefully letting the idea sink in for her.
She hesitated and I skimmed my teeth along the hollow of her neck. When her breathing hitched, I went in for the kill.
“You are astounding, my little Clover. Wouldn’t you want to prove to all these homely wenches just how desirable you are?”
Her hands tightened around my shoulders as she threw her head back, moaning.
“Yes,” she panted. “Yes!”
Her chest muffled my laugh, her breasts a soft pillow for my face. But what was one pair of breasts when I could get two? Or five?
“Go into the kitchen. Grab who you can, and meet me on the third floor under the painting of the half-burned knight.”
Her muscles stiffened. “What? We can’t just abandon the kitchen. The cook will–”
I let her go and moved quickly into the corridor, not giving her a chance to respond. She would either deliver . . . or not.
A thrill ran through my veins as I took the spiral steps two at a time, racing up and up and ignoring the burn in my legs. At the top of the opening to the third floor, I paused to catch my breath.
This floor housed Nobles from time to time, but specifically visiting Nobles. That meant all chambers were temporary, and they constantly had staff moving in and out, and that there were rooms that were ready to inhabit.
I’d steal one of those rooms for my afternoon of debauchery.
The first door I tried was locked.
The second door revealed a room that was stripped bare, no furnishing or covers on the bed.
The third one swung open. I wasn’t expecting it, and I practically fell in. The room was warm and inviting, covered in furs. A fire roared in the hearth. Fruits and roast chicken were set out on the table, along with a selection of dark wines.
Too bad the room wasn’t empty.
“Careful. You’ll get mud on my carpet.” Her hair was loose and flowing over her shoulders and down her back, for once not in its severe braids or woven around her crown. It was so long that it covered her bare breasts.
Look away. You need to look away.
The queen lounged in front of me on a velvet chaise, completely nude.
Her skin was so smooth and white. Was it supposed to look like that?
Clover was much younger than the queen, but she wasn’t free of blemishes or marks.
Clover had stretch marks across her belly and thighs, scars on her arms and back, and bumps in her rounded backside.
The queen had … none of those things. Her breasts were shapely underneath her hair. Nothing was scarred or bumped or blemished. Her waist nipped in at her flat stomach, only for her hips to flare out to full thighs. She was unreal. She was perfect. Was it magick?
Stop staring .
“Are you going to do anything? Or just sit there and soil my rug?”
Her voice was the only thing not perfect about her: spoiled and smug, mighty and slightly nasal. The cruelty in it jolted me back to my senses, but she had me off balance while inflaming my desires.
It enraged me how much I hated her and how much I wanted her.
“Why? Do you want me to … what did you say? Do something?” I didn’t realize I’d spoken until she arched one silver eyebrow at me, those cupid lips parting slightly at me with surprise .
“And have you leave stains everywhere?” She sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning forward.
She knew it pushed her breasts forward, the hair falling just so and parting so I could glimpse one rosy nipple.…
I moved on my own volition until there was only a short distance between us. This close I could smell her: pergainsa berries and fire, ash and incense and death and–
Sharply, I inhaled, taking half a step back.
Magick.
It was thick and cloying like smoke, but sickly sweet like decay and death. I wanted more of it even though I knew it was dangerous.
“Mud Stain, I am waiting for someone who is most certainly not you . Leave, and I will forget this intrusion.”
She wanted me to leave. That meant I wasn’t going anywhere. My decision must have shown in the tilt of my chin or the set of my shoulders, because the queen’s eyes narrowed.
A knock sounded on the door.
The queen smirked. “And now someone I actually wish to see is?—”
“Z? Are you here? I–”
I bit back a curse as Clover poked her little blond head through the door, going white as a sheet when she saw the queen’s naked form. She tried to back out in panic, but five other girls pressed in from behind her, eager to look.
The queen tilted her head to the side and smiled, stretching and arranging herself even more provocatively over the sofa.
“Girls, come in,” she cooed at them, fingers outstretched and curling inwards.
A redhead pushed forward past the weak, elbows flying and eyes wide.
“The queen! What– ”
Clover screeched as the others rushed forward at the redhead’s proclamation. Clover fell to the ground and the other girls trampled her. Something cracked and Clover screamed.
The queen laughed. “Yes, girls. Come. First one here gets a fortune worthy of a princess.”
Six girls ignored their fallen friend, the same one who had led them here. They clawed at each other, pulled hair, tripped, and eventually fell into a pile of fists and screams.
The queen laughed uproariously as they bloodied and bruised each other.
It was disgusting and chaotic; it was everything the queen represented.
“Z, I–”
I put an arm under Clover’s legs and wrapped the other around her shoulder. With a grunt and cry of pain from her, I carried her out of the room and into the corridor.
The door to the room slammed behind us. Horrific screams erupted from the room.
Clover whimpered, and I clutched her tightly to me. Not to comfort her, but to try and quell the rage inside of me, because once again, the queen had won.
That frigid, cold bitch had won.
And I still wanted her.
I hated myself. No, I hated her.
“Z, I?—”
“Hush. Let’s get you to the primas.”
She didn’t protest, and was more than happy to leave me for the primas and their numbing tonics. I thanked them and made my way back to the corridor. I had to know what happened to those girls. I had to know who the queen was meeting.
The door was open, but it was dark inside. Smoke wafted into the corridor, the scent of charred meat thick in the air.
Poking my head in, I recoiled at the scorched bones and piles of ashes. Surely that wasn’t … How was that even possible?
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
I jumped so bad I nearly bashed my head into the door frame, whipping around so fast my robe tangled in my legs. My hands raised in front of me reflexively, but I lowered them immediately.
You didn’t throw punches with the king, after all.
My father.
Say something.
I couldn’t. I could count the number of times I’d even seen the king on one hand, including this one. He looked so much like me that it physically hurt. We stared at each other. Then I remembered he’d spoken first.
“I’m working on it. The not getting killed part,” I said, clearing my throat awkwardly.
He kept looking at me. And looking.
“I … are you here to meet the queen?” I asked.
He blinked at that, the ghost of a sad smile twisting the left corner of his lip.
“No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “No. I simply … I don’t know what I’m doing. I tell myself I’m keeping an eye on things, but that doesn’t matter much when the result is the same and you have no control.”
Wise words. I tilted my head to the side, studying him.
“The queen–” I was not sure if what I had to say would be considered offensive or treasonous.
“Is a cunt,” the king finished succinctly, mirth sparking in his eyes for a moment before extinguishing.
A rough guffaw left my throat before I could help it .
He raised a hand towards me and I flinched, but he only rested it gently on my cheek, before pulling away.