Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“She has no memory,” he explains. “At least, no memory of her time as my housekeeper. She’s exactly as she was before I cursed her.”
“And you did that to hide her?” If he won’t give me the entire story, perhaps I can write the missing lines, if given enough information.
“I had to. She also fell out of favor, but not just with Arcus. Her other enemies are dead now, though.” From the sudden sharpness of his tone and the haunted silver in his eyes, there is no doubt that he was responsible for those deaths. His coldness and determination frighten me.
There’s another knock. Luthian waves away the mess on the floor and calls, “Enter.”
The faerie who comes in is a stranger, in pastel green livery and a powdered wig that looks quite ridiculous upon his head, as he is a frog.
I nearly faint.
“From His Most Glorious Majesty, Arcus the Cruel, King of The Court of Pleasure and Torment, Master of All Which Delights and Offends, Ruler of the House of—” the thing croaks.
“Yes, yes, I know who he is.” Luthian waves an impatient hand to dismiss the frog courier and shuts the door behind him, already popping the seal on the letter that’s been delivered. As Luthian scans the paper, his excitement lights his face with every line. “It’s an invitation, my honey flower. From the king. He wants to see you tonight.”
“Tonight?” My mind whirls. “I need my wardrobe. And a bath. And…”
Luthian comes to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “This is your destiny, Cenere. Trust in it.”
He’s right. This is my destiny. It’s Cadwyn Thrace’s destiny, too.
And King Arcus’s, though he doesn’t know it yet.
Chapter Eighteen
“It is imperative that you keep Arcus’s interest,” Luthian tells me, not for the first time. He’s almost as nervous as I was before we entered the throne room this morning.
I look myself over in the mirror, check my gown from one side then the other. For my private audience with the king, I’ve chosen a dress similar in style to the one I wore that morning. This one is bright, screaming red, with a deep V that reaches almost to my waist, and nothing beneath it. My breasts are barely contained by the laces across the bodice. “You don’t think this is a bit...seductive? After the throne room, I assumed he wanted innocence to despoil.”
“If that were the case, you’re already spoiled,” Luthian says, fluffing my ringlets over my bare shoulders. “He’ll view your beauty tonight as a gesture of good will from me. And besides, he thinks you’re my mate. He knows you’re not innocent.”
“True.” I go to the immense jewelry box Luthian gifted me this afternoon. He was so pleased by my performance, he said I deserved a reward.
The only reward I want is for him to fuck me. I’m beginning to feel slighted.
I know it isn’t crucial to our scheme. Still, the feeling of his cock pushed against me, so close to giving us both what we desperately want from each other, haunts me.
Luthian stands behind me and holds my gaze in the mirror. “Give him what he wants. I need him to trust you.”
“He will.” I’ve worked too long at my lessons to fail now.
“Good girl.” He leans down and kisses the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. I shiver.
We walk downstairs, to the great hall, where a new egress appeared upon our return. It’s tall, with a pointed arch, and swirling, colored glass fills two windows in the gleaming silver door. Luthian opens it onto a long, deserted gallery with black walls and black-and-white checked marble upon the floor. Two sylphs wait for me, reach out to snatch my wrists as they did that morning.
I jerk my chin up and say haughtily, “You will not put a hand on me. I am a guest of His Most Gracious Majesty.”
They float back, but they flank me as I walk the length of the gallery, and they open another set of doors when we reach the end. I want to look back at Luthian. I try not to. He would not want me to.
I can’t resist.
What I see stuns me. The same rage, the same pain from the throne room twists his features as he watches them deliver me to his enemy. But there is no one to see him here, no one to act for. And when our eyes meet, he looks away and closes the door.
I’ve seen something I wasn’t supposed to see.
There’s no time to wonder about it; the sylphs have delivered me directly to the king’s chamber. The walls are black with long panels of ruby satin. Various implements are displayed proudly in the way a trophy hunter hangs his conquests. There are rods and canes, whips and paddles, restraints attached to the walls. Various objects for pleasure are there, too, from phalluses of varying sizes and materials to potions like the ones in Luthian’s study. One entire end of the long room is a vast bed, made up with black silk and mounds of pillows. Shackles dangle from every post and from the headboard. A wide arch divides the room in half, and I stand before a long, black dining table set with a mouthwatering feast.