Page 11 of Sugar & Dragon Act I: Temptation

Dago couldn’t hold back any longer. He gave the imp a broad grin. “When she comes again, let her in.”

Dorian bared his teeth. “Only next time, or until you change your mind?”

“Until I change my mind.”

Dago looked at the glass that served as the roof. There wasn’t a single scratch on it.

You will scream my name and beg for mercy, Galenos, he promised the woman, reminiscing the moment she’d agreed to take part in his scheme.Until you run out of breath.

VII Hera

Hera was sick. She must have been because otherwise, how could she explain what was happening to her? High color, shivers, thirst… The symptoms disappeared before she took medicine, but over the next week, she felt themevery day. Something was wrong.

And there were those dreams where someone bound her hands and instead of fighting, she asked him to touch her…

Hera shook her head, trying to banish those unhealthy thoughts from her head.

Something was very wrong.

It’s his fault, she thought, reminiscing on Dago Midais and his silver eyes with slitted pupils.

His Charm did something to her. She’d never thought about sex as much as she did now. There were times when she was curious about it, but now she felt like she was obsessed with it. Considering her previous experience, it made absolutely no sense.

There was nothing interesting about sex. It was embarrassing for the participants more often than it brought them together, it could be painful, and it required more effort than it was worth. Everyone, including her friends and authors of medical textbooks, said it could be enjoyable and beneficial for health, but she thought it was overrated. Food also could be enjoyable and healthy, and she could prepare italone. Why want more?

But her body seemed to want something more. Against logic and experience… against everything.

Like a nightmare.

She tried many times to change the course of her thoughts. She racked her brain trying to come up with an alternative to Midais’s plan. When that failed, she frantically looked through Erato Adonis’sPromiscuous Diaryin search of a woman who could become his wife instead of her. When all the candidates who met her criteria turned out to be already married, she started readingThe Legal Code of IlionandFundamentals of Politicsto prove to herself that they weren’t nightmarishly boring…

To no avail.

On the eve of the deadline set by Dago, Hera was stuck. She had to choose.

Unfulfilling work and life with Dago as a jealous rival, who wouldcertainlythrow dust in her eyes, waiting for her smallest misstep?

Or professional fulfillment and life with Dago as a husband who couldprobablymake their life together not unpleasant?

Hera sighed and leaned her head against the desk. The first solution sounded difficult, but she would show the strength of her character if she chose it. Sheshouldchoose it…

Who said that?she heard a quiet thought coming from some distant corner of her mind.And even if someone did say that, why would you listen to them? Why choose the difficult solution when there is an easier one?

Hera straightened. She searched for answers to these questions, but all she could focus on was her accelerating heartbeat.

She swallowed and rose from her seat.

One couldn’t argue with logic, right?

***

Dago Midais’s castle was essentially a tower with three stories, each narrower than the one below, and like the flat platform that was the foundation of his flying island, it was built on an octagonal plan. From the ground, the entire structure resembled a cloud, but the chameleopaint with which everything was painted could change its color, so Dago could make the castle inconspicuous even on a cloudless day. Hera didn’t even try to calculate how much something like that would cost. Even if she cast all the spells that powered the castle herself, with her current income, she probably wouldn’t be able to afford even half of the huge column that Dago used as a landing pad.

As she flew over the column in question—also octagonal—Hera released the fireproof bag from her talons and carefully landed next to it. After shifting to her human form, she knelt and put on the dress she’d taken from her bag and the new sandals she’d bought to replace the ones burned by her shame. At the bottom of the stairs that wrapped around the column like a snake, a ginger kitten with feathered wings was waiting for her in front of the castle gate.

“Hi, Hera,” the imp said, staring at her curiously with his poisonous green eyes.

“Hi, Pandorian.”

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