Page 38 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
My face heats, and blood pounds in my ears. “I have been nothing but genial and obedient to your Highness. Well, a little rebellious, perhaps, but you realize I could have fought you at every step and made your life much harder during these past few days.”
Her brows lower and her green eyes snap. “ThenIwould have madeyourlife much more difficult and painful. That, or you would be in Vienne’s carriage right now. Trust me, she cares very little about the consent or comfort of her men.”
I almost manage to stop the words, the ones I should not say. The ones she doesn’t deserve. But I let them out anyway. “At least the Crown Princess would have let me fuck her by now.”
Ruelle’s eyes are green fire, and her stubborn little chin lifts haughtily. “You will pay for that later, thrall. As I have reminded you, I’m not here for your pleasure. You’re here for mine.”
“Yet you won’t allow me to pleasure you. You’ll scarcely let me touch you—unless there are ghosts flitting about.”
The Princess’s anger practically crackles in the air. The maid busies herself in the corner of the carriage, pretending to adjust the flaps and buttons on the cosmetic case.
“Punishment awaits you tonight, thrall,” says Ruelle, in her sweet venomous voice. “Unless you acquit yourself well this afternoon, I will show you no mercy. You have lost my goodwill, and must earn it back. Do you understand?”
She still has those rutting nipple clamps, and I have no doubt she has thought up some additional forms of punishment. Or perhaps she intends to cut on me awhile.
“I will behave as you direct me, my lady,” I say, with as deep a bow as I can manage from the carriage seat.
“Good.” Ruelle pushes the carriage window open, admitting a rush of fresh air that smells faintly of salt. “Now shut up, thrall. I want to enjoy the breeze without your vile words in my ears.”
Despite my situation and my residual anger at the Princess, I can’t help a rush of excitement. I have only been to a beach once in my life, with friends from school, and I loved it. The wild scent of the sea tugs at me, a compelling summons. I hate waiting to get there—I want to burst out of the carriage and run until I find the water. I want to strip myself bare and charge into the surf, let it welcome me into a world of rushing foam and dark liquid depths, where there are no thralls or princesses, and all beings exist in service to the sea.
We pass a pretty tumble of a town, all crooked streets and tiled roofs against a background of glittering blue water. Then we rattle down a long slope before rolling through a grove of tall palms whose foliage paints the sandy road with feathery shadows.
“Nearly there,” says Ruelle, more to herself than to me or the maid.
I switch from watching the scenery to watching her face. As we break out of the palm grove, the midafternoon sun gilds her features—such pretty features. I like the crisp corner of her jaw, and the soft little ear next to it, and the earring that hangs trembling and glittering from her earlobe. I like the fine wispiness of her hair, so blonde it looks almost white where the sun touches it. I like the slope of her neck, where it curves into her shoulder, and the deep divot between her collarbones. I like the incisive glare in her green eyes when she turns to stare at me, the tension of her lips when she snaps, “What are you looking at?”
If only she wasn’t so damn infuriating. If only she would show me a little softness—or maybe it’s better that she doesn’t. If she did I might really become her slave—heart, soul, and mind.
The grating of the carriage wheels changes to a smoother roll—slower, slower, and at last we stop.
Penn, the bodyguard, comes to the window and says, “A moment, your Highness, while we pass through the gates and complete our security review.”
“Of course,” says the Princess, while I inwardly groan at more waiting.
We roll forward and stop. Forward and stop. Forward… and stop again. After what seems like hours, Penn finally gives us a nod, and we climb out of the carriage.
Up ahead, Crown Princess Vienne and her retinue are already walking the marbled path to the entrance of the beach palace. Two of her bodyguards lead the procession, and behind them are her favorite thralls, Ethwyn and Hennessy, moving in flawless step with each other. They wear scanty outfits crafted entirely of slim chains.
Vienne is next, then the other two thralls. They crawl seductively behind her, every movement perfectly synchronized. They are also dressed in chains, wearing muzzles and spiked collars. The Crown Princess holds the ends of their leashes in her hand. She’s a vision of sex—Beirgid in mortal form, a goddess of fertility and lush beauty.
But it’s the behavior of her thralls that fascinates me the most. Even her two favorites keep their heads down submissively. They hold their shoulders, their hands, and their hips in the exact same way. Every muscle, every movement is completely attuned to their mistress’s will.
I can’t compete with that.
I shouldn’t care whether or not Ruelle gets what she wants. I should be trying to undermine her, to ensure that her scheme fails. Less than a week ago I was fighting against her people. I was in her father’s torture chamber, with her blade carving my skin. Why do I want her to triumph over her sister?
Maybe it’s my personal pride, a need I have to be noticed and wanted. Or maybe I hate watching one blood relative abuse and disdain another. Maybe when I look at Vienne, I see the duality of my mother—smiles and charm one moment, followed by words so cruel they cut deeper than any knife. At least Ruelle isn’t deceptive with her moods.
I lean into the carriage again and snatch the gold cloak. Perhaps its flair will make up for my other shortcomings as a thrall.
Grimly I put it on, assisted by Meldare. The cloak has bands that circle just above my biceps, so it flows from the middle of my shoulder blades, leaving the rest of my shoulders bare.
I glance at my Princess, expecting to see despair in her eyes as she watches her sister’s exquisite procession moving toward the palace.
But she’s almost smiling, and her eyes blaze bright.
“Remember what I said about abject submission, thrall?” she says.
