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Is that what will happen to me?
Of course, not,comes a small voice inside of me,I am the most expensive pet here.They will reserve me for something far worse, I’m sure.The thought brings tears to my eyes, blurring the horrible display as I am dragged toward the front of the building.
A human male nearly bolts from his captor, only to be dragged back in by a heavy dark hand and onto a waiting cock. Even as he struggles, his own cock goes hard against his will, and I understand the gleam of fear in his eyes as he stares right through me.
The space opens to more of the same, and as horrible as the sight is, I can’t tear my gaze away. There’s a woman, shackled to the bottom of a shallow pool, her head barely above the yellow waters as several dark elves take aim at her face. Hot streams cut off her gasps and make her choke as they laugh at her expense.
Two more sit atop human figures—who strain beneath the weight of them—watching with glee as the woman slowly drowns in their collective fluids. There are people strung from the ceiling here too, unmoving. I can’t be sure if they’re still alive or not, but no one seems to care. They’re finished with those ones, and they’ll be dragged away soon enough.
I want to puke.
But showing weakness will only make my punishment more severe, when it finally comes. I have to remain stoic and silent among the worst of it. The hot panting of a dark elf as he mounts one of the unconscious humans echoes in my mind, even as we turn down another hall, away from the gruesome orgy.
I can breathe a little better here, though the air is still thick with the reek of sex.
The Zagfer catches me by the nape of my neck and leads me forward, his grip tightening as we near the master’s office. A chill runs up my spine as I tear out of his grasp and turn to face him. He may be doing his master’s bidding, but he is not my owner, and I will not be treated like a pet by him. “Get your handsoffme, Zagfer.”
He takes no offense to his title, measuring me up and licking his lips.
Disgust finds me again and I straighten. What is the point of being the most sought after pet if I am subjected to the whims of the master’s servants? He wants to sell me to the highest bidder, and for that, I need to be pure before they put me on the auction block.
I bare my teeth at him in the only language they know and grab the handle to the master’s door. “It willneverbe your turn,” I say with certainty, stealing the smug expression from his face. He glowers at me as I turn the handle and enter.
I am pleased with myself, until that too is stolen from me.
32
KRAL ISHIRAYA
The silence of my study is a blessing.
It is free from the fickle emotions of court, and insulated from the whims of my family. Many in my position might have abused the authority of it by now, but I’d rather be studying the royal accounts, hidden away in my private chambers.
My brother, the King, respects my wishes to a point. But he insists that I still make appearances from time to time, so our subjects don’t think I’ve disappeared entirely from proper society. They’ll begin to wonder and talk.
It’s the talk that I hate most.
Even those I respect are prey to it, where I am immune. It is no wonder why, however. We all know the story of how I was forced to seal away my emotions because they were simply too powerful when tethered to my magical abilities.
It’s easier this way.
I prefer it, not having to worry about the subtleties that plague every interaction as the Archduke of my brother’s kingdom. They will say one thing and mean something entirely different. They should simply pass around a ledger and sign their names under friend or foe, so that I know which to trust and which to have executed. I don’t enjoy parsing through their words like puzzles to be solved.
Numbers make more sense than they.
A soft knock at my door makes my shoulders tense. I say nothing, in hopes that it is a stray Zagfer who will leave if I do not respond. The knock comes again and I sigh, surrendering the pages to my desk. “Go away.”
The door opens a crack, and I realize it cannot be a servant. A servant wouldn’t dare disobey an order from the Archduke. So, it must be one from among my family, coming to pry at why I have not left my chambers in days.
His presence is subtle but unmistakable. “Cousin,” comes his silky voice. “Don’t these walls grow tiresome?”
“They suit me quite well, actually,” I grumble, lowering my head as if I am engrossed in my work, though I am the furthest thing from it. His very presence raises my hackles. “Don’tyouhave some party to attend in the city, Carisu?”
“Not without you, Kral,” he says, levering off the wall and making himself at home in my study. He falls into one of my favorite overstuffed chairs and runs his hands up the arms. When I turn to glare at him, a smug look has taken over his dark face, and one leg is draped lazily over the other, his fine shoe waggling impatiently. “Come out with me tonight. I insist.”
“Insist all you like,” I respond, “I much prefer the company of my books-”
“Which have been balanced and balanced again!” he cries, slamming a fist against the padding of the chair, hardly making a thud. “You have not been seen in public for over a fortnight. Do you even exist anymore, cousin? The other nobles are beginning to question it.”
