Page 49 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
“My thrall,” I reply. “We’ll do the carnal rite.”
“As will we.” Khal reaches down to stroke Mala’s head. “My pet is already wet for me, aren’t you, precious?”
Mala whimpers a little, turns and sucks one of his fingers into her mouth.
How would it feel to debase myself that way? To whimper at Ducayne’s feet and suck his fingers? Would he bend and pet me, and praise me gently? Would I like it?
Arousal warms between my legs, and I panic.
“Go, thrall,” I say, pushing Ducayne toward the path that leads to the pool.
Startled, he obeys. The others trail after us, pairs and trios wending their way down to the rocky brink of the pool. The popping of corks signal the beginning of the festivities—but I’m determined not to get drunk this time. Just a little liquor, to take the edge off my nerves. Ducayne brings me a cup and sips first, licking his lips afterward.
I take care to put my mouth on the part of the cup his lips didn’t touch.
Musicians settle in nearby, shaded by mossy trees. As their melody drifts through the air and the alcohol buzzes through my blood, my anxiety begins to ease a little.
A girl approaches me—the olive-skinned girl who was nervously folding paper when we first arrived at the beach palace. She holds threehannassticks between her long, tapered fingers. “Would you like one, Your Highness? It’s Ward’s special blend.”
Ward is close behind her. My pulse ticks up a notch at the sight of him—a lean sharp body, almost unhealthy in its thinness. He’s shirtless, wearing a dozen necklaces over his bony chest, and his pants are slipping dangerously low on his hips. I want to trace the flat plane of his abdomen with a knife. I want to draw lines of blood along his ribs and watch his stomach cave in with agonized breath. I want to cut notches along his sharp collarbones.
When my gaze reaches Ward’s face, he’s watching me with sunken dark eyes. His cheeks are deeply hollowed, and dark hair tumbles wildly over his forehead.
“This is my best batch ofhannasyet,” he says in a low, hoarse tone. “I'd be honored if your Highness would partake.”
Mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze, I reach for one of the papery sticks; but Ducayne intercepts me. “I’ll test it first, my lady.”
“I would never think of harming the Princess,” Ward says.
“Caring for her is my duty and my pleasure.” Ducayne tucks ahannasstick between two knuckles and takes a long pull. Its tip flares orange.
He tilts back his head and opens his throat, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His eyes fall shut.
“I told you it was good.” Ward smirks as Ducayne inhales again. “Princess, you should retrieve the stick before your thrall decides to keep it for himself.”
But Ducayne takes my chin between his thumb and first knuckle, coaxing my lips to part. He leans in and exhaleshannassmoke into my mouth. When I suck in a startled breath, thehannascrackles in my lungs, warming my chest.
It’s a bold move from my thrall. But I did tell him he was permitted to touch me a little.
The girl who offered me thehannasis sharing another stick with her thrall. He has skin a shade darker than hers, with hair dyed bright blue. Every bit of his exposed skin is tattooed with intricate designs in a matching shade of blue. Most of the designs incorporate ancient sigils for pleasure and fertility.
“I’m Luthia,” says the girl. “And this is my thrall Sherad. We smoke a lot ofhannas. It calms me.”
“One of my best customers,” says Ward, and he kisses her on the mouth. “I will see you all in the pool. Cowen will be using Zurai today, and I’ll be coupling with a priestess or a priest. Perhaps both. Unless your Highness would like to try something more elegant and intelligent than your usual fare.” His eyes meet mine significantly, and his tongue glides over his lips.
So he is interested in me. I could have him. I’m attracted to him, yes—but in him there is only risk and uncertainty, no trust or safety.
With my thrall, there is danger, yes, but there is security, too. Trust and doubt, swirled together. He and I have a plan.
“Thank you for your tempting offer,” I murmur, smiling at Ward. “Perhaps another day.”
He bows and moves away.
Luthia hands her thirdhannasstick to Umari, who approaches us accompanied by the triplet Keb.
Umari sniffs thehannasstick delicately and hums her appreciation. “Ah, thank the goddess for Ward and his blends. At least one of those brothers is skilled with his fingers. As for Cowen, he’s all jokes and pranks, not much else.” She leans closer to me, but doesn’t lower her voice. “Shared a bed with him last Summerglee—such a tiny dick I could barely feel it, and he came the moment he got in. He wiggled his fingers around my parts afterward until I faked a climax so I could go to sleep.”
I wince and nod in feigned sympathy. To escape further awkward conversation, I turn back to Ducayne, plucking the stick from his fingers and sucking on it myself. When I’m ready to exhale, I tip my face up to his, and he accepts the curls of smoke from my lips. Moths flutter in my chest at the nearness of his profile to mine.
