Page 88 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
I turn, meeting her eyes. They’re black, angular, heavily lined. Her sloping facial structure is perfectly balanced. Exquisite, like her elegant fingers and flawlessly decorated nails. She’s pretty, and she treats Gem well from what I can see. On the surface, she might be a good strategic choice for a friendly alliance.
But she is my sister’s best friend. And no one achieves that position without having a streak of gods-awful cruelty inside them.
“I was wondering,” Imrissa says softly, “if your sole leaning is toward men, or if you might like a taste of Gem sometime. Or Gem could taste you.” She smirks. “And while she’s doing that, you and I could chat.”
“When?” Perhaps I can buy time to think of a diplomatic excuse.
“Now?” Imrissa extends a delicate ringed hand toward the couches scattered around the parlor. Most of the nobles and thralls are playing games, drinking, and smoking, but Bazra is getting head from Nonni, as usual, and Ethwyn has slipped his hand under my sister’s skirts. “See? We could do as they’re doing, and enjoy a little afternoon pleasure. Just the thing to whisk the worries away. And then of course, there’s the orgy tomorrow night, if you prefer to try Gem’s talents then. Though it’s liable to be too noisy for conversation.” She giggles.
“What is it you want to know?” It’s a blunt question, too blunt for the usual court machinations, but I have no desire to pussyfoot around with my sister’s closest confidante. Clearly she wants me off-guard so she can ask me something—probably information my sister has ordered her to extract.
At my direct inquiry, Imrissa’s face hardens. “All right then. No pretense or prettiness with you, I see.” She takes my wrist in her hand, and her fingertips press hard against my pulse. “First question—have you had sex with your thrall?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes unfocus for a moment. “Steady pulse, steady gaze. No lie. Very well—next question. Are you gathering allies to move against your sister?”
“To move against her?” I frown.
“Yes or no?”
“I have no desire for the throne. But I do like to protect myself.”
Her nails are digging into my skin. “Hm. Truth, I think. Good to know.”
I jerk my wrist away. “What are you, her interrogator?”
“Maybe.” Imrissa’s smile is knives and poison. “Gem and I take our allegiance to the Crown Princess very seriously. We consider it our duty to eliminate anyone who represents a threat to her, or to the institution of Summerglee.”
She and Gem are both smiling—so beautiful, so perfect, so deadly.
What my sister did to inspire such devotion in them, I have no idea.
Khal enters at that moment, accompanied by Mala and Yenna. Both of the thralls are half-naked, wearing nipple clamps. They look wretchedly sorrowful, and he seems perturbed.
I hurry over to him, as the most palatable option for companionship in the entire room.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, nodding to the despondent thralls.
“What’s wrong, your Highness? Besides the inexplicable deaths of two thralls, two wielders, and a noble? Gods. What else could happen?” He throws up his hands. “But something elsehashappened. The girls have mislaid the beautiful headpiece you gifted me back in the royal city. And three of my favorite rings are missing as well.”
Frowning, I sit opposite him at a game table. The polished board is empty, but he takes some carved pieces from a drawer and begins setting them out. His thralls sink dejectedly into kneeling positions on either side of him.
“My maid misplaced a necklace,” I say. “Or at least, I thought she did.”
“Gods, is someone stealing as well as murdering?” he exclaims under his breath. “I swear, Master Thranwright had better get this under control, or his neck will become intimately acquainted with the Crown Princess’s sword.” He sets one of the pieces two squares forward. “Your turn, Highness.”
“I don’t know how to play this game,” I murmur.
Khal’s brown eyes shine sympathetically into mine. “Better start learning to play, Princess. Before you find yourself left without any moves to make.”
28
I don’t dare sleep.
I slump on the floor, eyes closing, and then I force myself to get up. I’m exhausted, but if I sit down I’ll doze off, and then the beasties scuttling the corners will come out and swarm me.
Even if the shell-rats chew off my dick, the healer could replace it. But I want this one. The one I’ve had since birth. The one that Ruelle honored with her first time.
