Page 16 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
“Her Highness the Second Princess, Ruelle Linden of House Larax,” announce the twin servants in perfect synchronization.
The Princess’s two bodyguards entered the room first, but now they step back, taking up positions by the wall where they can keep watch.
An attractive man with ebony skin rises from the lounge. He looks older than me by a handful of years. Long locs woven with gold thread extend past his waist, glittering and swinging as he comes toward us.
“Welcome, welcome! What a surprise, Your Highness!” He bows deeply, then takes her hands in his with an effusive smile. “What brings you to my home so early? You are lucky I rise with the birds to do my morning prayers.”
“I am sure the goddess Macha appreciates your devotion.” The Princess holds out a small bundle she kept in her lap during the carriage ride.
Khal accepts it with an eager smile. “Ah, a gift? You treat me too kindly, Highness.”
“A favor for a favor,” she says stiffly.
I’m not well-versed in court manners, but even I know that she’s skipping important parts of the greeting process. She should have asked Khal about himself and his health, complimented his beautiful gardens—something. Instead, she jumped right into the bargain. Perhaps, outside the torture room, she is less comfortable persuading others to yield to her.
Luckily, Khal seems delighted with the intricately designed headpiece she gifted him. As he’s thanking her, his gaze lands on me. “And who are you, good sir?”
I’m briefly grateful that the Princess didn’t put the collar back on me this morning. It would have screamed my thrall status to this man.
“I am Adraxas Ducayne,” I reply, bowing slightly. “Former Captain to the Fifty-Second Company of the Armies of Yurstin.”
Khal’s eyebrows shoot up.
“He was my father’s captive, taken from the Battle of Grewold Pass, and I claimed him,” the Princess explains quickly. “This is the favor I need, Khal. I desire your discretion and I crave your advice.”
“You have both, my lady, of course.”
“He is my first pleasure thrall, and I’m bringing him to Summerglee. But he is untrained.”
“I can tell by his behavior, his bearing.” Khal frowns. “Proud and insolent. Has he been tattooed?”
“Yes, on his bicep. I was hoping you would advise me about training a thrall, since I have no experience.”
Khal’s eyes skim my form again. “But surely, Your Highness’s sister could help. She is well-versed in the art of training thralls, though her methods and results differ from mine.”
“Your thralls are the best behaved and the most talented in the sensual arts,” says the Princess, in the soft serpentine voice she used on me yesterday. “Everyone in the Royal Seat knows you are the ultimate word in thralldom.”
So shecanuse her wiles outside the torture room, but only once she’s comfortable in her target’s presence. She needs time to adjust to her surroundings. Interesting.
Khal smiles widely. “I would never call myself the ‘ultimate word in thralldom,’ but if it pleases Your Highness, I would be glad to show you a few things.” He nods to the twins, who are standing motionless nearby. “Tell Mala to come to me.”
They bow in unison and walk away, keeping in perfect step with each other.
“I’m bringing the twins, and Mala, and that new one to Summerglee.” Khal points at the naked girl playing the harp. The curve of it nestles right between her legs, and I could swear she is rubbing herself against it as she plays. Yes, she definitely is. Her cheeks are flushed, and her head tilts back. Her playing falters.
"Yenna,” says Khal smoothly, calmly. “Do not come until I say.”
The girl nods and continues strumming the melody.
My face is flaming, and so is the Princess’s. Thankfully I’m distracted by the entrance of another young woman, scantily clad in bands of pale green gauze. She has milk-white skin, dotted with a few freckles across her nose and cheekbones. Her auburn hair must reach to her feet when it’s unbound, but it is gathered into bunches, cinched with jeweled bands. Tiny emeralds sparkle in the thin gold collar around her neck.
“Kneel, Mala,” says Khal.
The thrall kneels, rocking back with her bottom resting on her ankles. Her torso remains erect, but with a slight sinuous tilt. Palms on her thighs, head tilted up, lips slightly parted, she blinks at her master—beautifully, innocently, seductively.
Arousal ticks through my cock.
“See how her knees are precisely three fists apart,” says Khal, bending to cup the girl’s chin. “Her mouth is open just enough for kissing or fucking, whichever I prefer at the moment. The angle of the head, the placement of the hands—it’s all learned behavior. Mala, how do I like my tea?”
