Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
My bathtub stands before the fire, as always. I almost call her back to tell her that my lessons aren’t finished for the day. Then I realize that the white foam on the surface isn’t a fluffy cloud of bubbles as it usually is.
Pearls.
The bathtub is filled with pearls.
I clap my hands in delight and drop to my knees beside the tub. The glimmering spheres are of a uniform, vibrant white, but not uniform in size; there are some so small, they could fit on the tiniest ring for the most diminutive pixie, and some so large, I dread the thought of the oyster they’d been harvested from. I dip my hand into them and relish the satiny feeling. I’ve become far more observant of sensation in my time with Luthian. We’ve had lessons to train me in that, too. I sat blindfolded in his study while he touched me with all manner of objects and quizzed me as to what they were made of and how they felt on—and inside of—my body.
I’m a different person now than the night I ran to the cenere tree and watered its roots with my tears. I was innocent then. My thoughts would not have turned, upon seeing a bathtub full of pearls, to how they might feel against my throat, my breasts, my thighs. But they do, and I assume that’s the point. I quickly strip off my gown and drop it to the floor, where it vanishes, banished to the pages of the book once more.
My toes have only just touched the surface when the door opens and Luthian enters, followed by Firo. Luthian is still in his dressing gown, but Firo has been marched here nude and coated in shining oil.
Luthian grins at my nakedness, my foot poised to step into the tub. “I see you understood the purpose of my gift.”
“I guessed at it, Guardian.”
“Go on, then. Climb in.”
My breath catches as my toes break the surface. It feels better than I imagined it would, the smooth, satiny spheres rolling over every inch of my exposed skin. I find the bottom of the tub, nudging pearls out of the way so I don’t tumble, then step fully inside.
“While you were having your supper, Firo was being tended by some of my pets.” Luthian strokes Firo’s hair gently. “Tell her.”
Firo swallows thickly, his eyes trained on my naked body as I lower myself into the pearls. I gasp when they touch my intimate flesh, and he looks almost pained. “A pile of writhing vines.”
“Cenere knows all about my vines,” Luthian sing-songs as he moves about the room extinguishing candles with two fingers. I’ve long ago stopped asking him why he does things physically that he could do with magic; the answer is always “style.”
I squint, examining Firo’s skin. “I see no blood, no pricks or scratches, Guardian.”
“No thorns,” Luthian says. “It was a different type of training.”
My core floods with excitement at the scenarios that fill my mind.
“It was a rather intense session of denial.” The words are tight leaving Firo’s mouth. I know that of all the exercises, edging is the one he dislikes most.
It also means that he’s desperate now, craving release.
Once, Luthian immobilized Firo and I with magic, barely a breath apart, so close we could feel the heat of each other’s bodies, and tortured us with denial from dawn to nightfall, until we were both sobbing and begging and wild with lust. If Firo could have, he confessed later, he would have thrown me to the ground and fucked me so hard, we would have shattered the floor.
But after Luthian finished him off with mouth and deviously placed fingers, Firo was too exhausted to even remove himself from the study.
Luthian drops his dressing gown, revealing every inch of his blue-gray skin. His muscles ripple, feline and graceful, as he prowls a circle around my suffering companion. “We’re celebrating tonight, Cenere. Firo has completed his training and in the morning, he’ll leave for court.”
My stomach drops. Firo and I don’t know each other well; we are rarely in a position to speak alone and usually see each other only at lessons. But I hoped we could become allies, as he said in the garden. I expected that we would go to court at the same time, though I don’t know where that expectation came from. Now, I will go alone, be alone, with no guarantee that our shared experience will unite us in purpose.
He can’t be united in your purpose, I remind myself. Your purpose requires the assassination of the king, the seduction of a prince.
It’s one thing for Firo to know my motivation. It’s another entirely for an ambassador to the court to know the details of the plan.
I swallow down my disappointment and fix my expression to reveal none of it.