Page 11 of Crown of Light and Ashes
I summoned Selene, a woman from a minor Shadow Court family who had been warming my bed for several months. As soon as she entered, I grabbed her by the throat.
"My lord?" she asked, her voice tinged with both excitement and fear. She was used to my moods, used to rough treatment. She even seemed to enjoy it. Boring.
"Shut up," I growled, shoving her against the wall hard enough that her head cracked against the stone. I enjoyed the little sound of pain she made.
I ripped her dress open, buttons scattering across the floor. She was trying to say something, but I wasn't listening. All I could see was golden eyes and dark hair braided with light, all I could feel was this burning anger that had no outlet besides violence.
I bit her neck hard enough to draw blood, licking it off her skin as shadows began to gather around us both. She was trembling now—no longer just from excitement.
"My lord, you're hurting me," she gasped as my fingers dug bruises into her hips.
"That's the point," I replied, spinning her around and bending her over my desk, knocking scrolls and inkwells to the ground. The sound of glass shattering was satisfying. Not as satisfying as her cry when I entered her without warning, but close.
I wrapped my hand in her hair, yanking her head back at an uncomfortable angle. "Do you know what I hate, Selene?" I asked conversationally, as if I wasn't forcing myself on her with punishing thrusts. "I hate how fucking self-righteous the Light Court is. All their talk of harmony and balance, while they look down their noses at us. As if they're so much better."
She tried to respond, but I wasn't interested in conversation. I released her hair only to wrap shadows around her throat instead, constricting them slowly until her struggles became desperate. The shadows responded to my darkest impulses, tightening more than I consciously intended.
Her face was turning an interesting shade of purple, her eyes bulging as she clawed at the insubstantial darkness, cutting off her air. There was genuine terror there now—no more pretense of enjoying my attentions.
I found I liked that better. The fear. The desperation. It fed something in me, made the shadows grow denser, made my own pleasure spike.
She was making little choking sounds now, her body jerking involuntarily beneath mine. I briefly wondered what would happen if I didn't stop. Would the shadows disperse if she died? Or would they keep constricting until her neck snapped?
The thought interested me academically, like watching an insect struggle in a spider's web.
Her struggles were weakening when I finally released the shadows, more from boredom than mercy. I hadn't intended to takeit that far—such loss of control was unlike me—but something about Nesilhan had disrupted my usual calculated restraint.
I continued as if nothing had happened, chasing my own release with clinical detachment.
When I finished, I stepped back and adjusted my clothing, watching her slide to the floor in a trembling heap, hand at her bruised throat.
"You—you almost killed me," she whispered, voice raspy and broken.
"Did I?" I replied with manufactured surprise. "How clumsy of me."
She stared up at me, naked and marked with my violence, genuine horror in her eyes. "They're right about you," she managed. "You really are evil."
I laughed at that, crouching beside her and gripping her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Evil is just a word people use when they lack imagination," I told her. "I prefer 'morally innovative.'"
"You're a monster," she insisted, trying to pull away.
I tightened my grip until she whimpered. "Yes," I agreed pleasantly. "And monsters don't apologize for their nature. We simply are." I released her with a little shove. "Now get out. You've become tedious."
She scrambled to gather her torn dress around her body, backing toward the door with real fear in her eyes. I watched her with the same interest I might show a mildly entertaining performance.
"Oh, and Selene?" I called out as she reached for the door handle. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll demonstrate exactly how innovative I can be. For weeks. Do we understand each other?"
She nodded frantically and fled.
I poured myself a glass of wine, oddly unsatisfied despite having taken my frustrations out on her willing enough body. All I could thinkabout was Nesilhan of House Lumina and how I wanted to see that perfect composure shatter beneath me.
I shake off the memory with a scowl and return to my preparations. Selene had disappeared from court shortly after that night. Probably ran back to her family estate with some invented excuse. I hadn't bothered to find out. Women were interchangeable bodies to slake my needs—all except one apparently.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
"Enter," I call.
I summon the Chief Steward to finalize the arrangements. "Ensure my grandmother's handmaidens are assigned to prepare the bride," I instruct. The ancient women who served my grandmother are feared throughout the court for their unwavering loyalty and ruthless efficiency. Their wrinkled faces and gentle appearances belie their true nature. If anyone can ensure Nesilhan's compliance, it's those terrifying crones.
