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“Stop!” he pleads. “Stop, for the goddess’s sake!”
“Proceed, Magden,” says the King calmly. “You know where to cut next.”
The torturer’s attention shifts to the space between my legs.
No no no no no oh goddess no…
The torturer selects a pair of sharp clippers. Then his gloved hand reaches toward my pussy.
Rupert screams. “Fucking stop! I’ll tell you, I swear I’ll tell you, please, please—”
“Wait, Magden,” says the King.
The torturer withdraws his hand, and I lie there panting, teeth clamped on the gag, tears oozing hot from the corners of my eyes.
“This is just a taste of what she will endure if you lie to me again.” The King’s voice is smug, oily. Satisfied.
“I won’t lie,” Rupert promises. “But there is only one way I’ll yield my secret, one bargain I will make with you.”
I turn my head so I can see Rupert and the King again, in their chairs on the platform.
“Amusing that you think you have any leverage with which to bargain,” says the King.
“You’re a busy man,” Rupert replies. “You want this done quickly. So do I. And you saw through my tricks, so I know you’re too smart to pass up a good deal.”
Lady Kessalif was the one who perceived the truth, but Rupert is playing to the King’s ego. A smart move.
“I am not easily fooled,” says the King. “Speak your terms, Half-Elf.”
“Like all deals made with the Kin, this one is binding, and if either of us breaks it, that man’s life is forfeit. You can have my name, on these terms: let Juliette leave, unharmed, free to go where she pleases, along with her friends from the House of Bounty. If you agree to do this, I will give you my name, and the moment you speak it, I will be yours—and not only my magic. I’ll serve you in everything, and I’ll follow your every command. I’ll spin you such mountains of gold that you’ll be able to climb up and gild the stars themselves. Your reign will be renowned, and your empire will be endless. But if another person speaks my name aloud, in your presence and mine, your control over me will end, and I will serve them instead. Do we have a bargain?”
The King hesitates, probably considering the deal from every angle. “Who else knows your true name?”
“No one but the father who gave it to me. He put the name into my mind when I was three years old, then swore that the day he spoke the name of his bastard offspring would be the day he died. He vowed it to the goddess, and he will keep that vow on pain of his own death.”
“Good.” The King rubs his hands together. “Then we have a deal.”
“Your word has bound you,” says Rupert. “Take care that you do not break it, and thus seal your own fate.”
“No chance of that.” The King chuckles. “I intend to keep you as my slave for a very, very long time and find many satisfying uses for you. Guards, take the woman to the House of Bounty and see that she and her friends leave at once. They are to be expelled from the gates naked, unharmed by the hand of anyone within the palace. Understood?”
“Naked?” Rupert exclaims.
“They may go free and unharmed from this place, but they are nothing, and they possess nothing,” says the King. “Let them fend for themselves as they may. Come now—we’ll find a quiet place to be alone, you and I. You can tell me your name, and begin your dutiful service to me.”
His thick, lecherous tone makes me want to scream again and flail against my chains in a frenzy of panic. But I don’t move. I must not draw attention to myself or anger the King any further. I know how business and bargains work—this is the delicate moment just before the agreement is sealed, and I must not interfere.
Once I’m free and out of this palace, I’ll begin to strategize. Because there’s no fucking way I’m leaving Rupert in the King’s power for one second longer than I have to.
Rupert is hustled away, and the King glances at me one last time before following him out. He gives me a smile full of triumph and obscene intent.
Still I do not move or challenge him with my eyes, even though my mind is screaming Don’t touch him, don’t touch him, don’t you dare touch him over and over.
When the King disappears, the torturer slinks back into his corner and the guards approach to remove the gag and unlock my cuffs. There’s blood between my breasts, blood trickling over my belly, blood dripping from my wounded finger. When I sit up, the bruises on my body scream in protest. But the pain is fuel, the pain is power—I rise, and I give the torturer one fierce look before I’m escorted from the room by the guards.
Sending me bruised, naked, and bleeding into the House of Bounty is a statement from the King, a warning to the other women. He’s letting me go—for now—but I’m not such a fool as to believe he won’t send guards after me tonight or tomorrow. I’m nothing, like he said. I’m no one. I’ll stumble out into the royal city, naked and helpless, with no money or protection—and if I survive the first several hours of freedom, he’ll make sure I disappear. Rupert didn’t specify how long the King had to leave me unharmed once he let me go. It’s a loophole that a more analytic mind would have spotted.
“The King said you’re to leave with your friends,” says one of the guards. “What are their names? You can wait in the courtyard and we’ll send them out to you.”
