Page 56 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
“Keb was caressing your thrall and braiding his hair last night. Perhaps you became jealous. We all know you’re unused to the training and handling of pleasure pets.”
My cheeks flame. “Not all of us enjoy the perfunctory services of mindless drones or abused slaves. Some of us prefer more passion and fervor. Makes the ecstasy so much more intense, don’t you think? Ah, but you wouldn’t know, would you?” I smile at her. “And no, I did not touch Keb. I had no reason to wish him dead.”
Vienne eyes me, and for a moment I fear she’ll push back. She could make me yield, force me to let her treat Ducayne however she likes. If we were alone, she would beat me within an inch of my life.
But the other nobles are watching. Powerful as she is, she values their goodwill.
“Perhaps Umari’s thrall slit his own throat out of shame, yes?” Vienne gives the onlookers a keen glance, and they begin to nod and murmur their assent. “So we can move on from this ugly business and return to our revels. A little food and drink, and then back to the palace. Ward, my love, did you bring along anycinnar? I’m dying for a sniff.”
And just like that, the murder of Umari’s thrall is discarded and forgotten.
The others begin to drift away, following Ward and Vienne toward the area where the servants have set up mid-afternoon refreshments.
Ducayne still lies prone on the earth, his tanned back marked with dirt from the guard’s boot.
“Come here, thrall,” I say quietly. And then, because I sense Khal and Umari watching, I add, “Crawl to me.”
Ducayne pushes himself onto hands and knees and turns toward me. Every muscle in his beautiful body flexes as he crawls in my direction. His face is smeared with dirt, bruised along one side. When he reaches me and looks up, there’s blood between his teeth.
“She did this to you?” I ask, my nerves singing with rage.
He nods. Though he doesn’t speak, I can feel how shaken he is. The accusation of murder and the encounter with my sister affected him more deeply than anything in the days since I took possession of him.
“I thought she might kill me,” he says quietly.
I bend, sweeping my fingers along his temple and cheek, cupping his jaw. “You’re safe now,” I whisper.
He moves before I can stop him, wrapping both strong arms around my thighs, pressing his cheek to my belly. It’s an embrace and an obeisance, and my heart quivers, frantic and sore and euphoric.
“Stop, thrall,” I murmur. “Wash your face and go fetch me my wrap, and some food. Get some food for yourself as well.”
“Princess.” His lips press lightly to my skin before he pulls back and rises. As he walks away, I touch the place on my belly where he kissed me.
Khal approaches me, his dark eyes cool and sympathetic. “Emotional distance,” he says. “The one thing I forgot to teach you when you came to me. A great omission, for which you must forgive me, Your Highness.”
“Emotional distance?”
“It’s easy to become emotionally entangled with a thrall—to forget who and what they are. But you must always remember that your mind, soul, and body will one day belong to a spouse worthy of your whole self—someone whose rank and title is comparable to yours. Until then, a thrall’s duty is to serve you, to pleasure your body, and to fulfill your will and desires in all things. In exchange you grant the thrall protection, sustenance, and the satisfaction of fulfilling their purpose in life. But you give them no more of yourself. Yielding your mind and heart to someone so far below you—that is a grave error, one that a woman of your wisdom would never make.”
“Of course not.” I force myself to assume a disdainful expression. “The Captain is very passionate, and I’ve found that allowing him to express it makes him more dutiful. More effective in pleasing me.”
Umari approaches, tugging ahannasstick from a clip on her bracelet. “He certainly seemed to be pleasing you well during the carnal rites. Now that my thrall is dead and my matched trio is ruined, I shall have to borrow yours sometime. Using his brothers will seem strange now. I’ll have to sell them.” She sighs at the inconvenience.
“I am always happy to reward the loyalty of good friends.” I smile at her, and a look of understanding passes between us. When Ducayne returns, Umari watches him with new interest, touching his arm and hair with an appraising possessiveness I don’t like. But this is what I wanted. To use him as currency, to gain allies and friends who might serve as a shield for me once Padra gives the throne to Vienne.
That power exchange is bound to happen within the next five years. My father is approaching his middle fifties, when rulers of Thannira usually pass the crown to the heir. Once he places Vienne on the throne, he will become the AfterKing. He will leave court, yield all control, and spend his remaining life in as much luxury and debauchery as he likes at one of our other palaces.
I won’t be allowed to accompany him—nor would I want to. Padra keeps Vienne in check, but his kindness to me is rare. From age twelve to fourteen, I received more whippings than kind words from him. He punished me privately, so few would know how often the beatings occurred. I doubt even my maids know the frequency.
I’ve often wondered if he did the same to Vienne when she was younger. If he did, surely I would have heard of it, even as a whisper among the servants.
No matter what she endured at his hands, she doesn’t deserve my sympathy. She has never been a sister to me, only a rival. Sometimes I wonder if she fears I’ll kill her for the throne. I don’t want to be queen, but I doubt she’d believe me even if I told her that.
Once Padra is living away from court as the AfterKing, Vienne will try to kill me. I know it.
I will need somewhere to go, a place to find refuge. Allies whose good opinion Vienne won’t risk.
And the formation of that alliance begins here, with the sharing of my pleasure thrall.
