by Sarah Hawke
“There’s no need to go anywhere,” Jorel interrupted. “You’ve already waited several hours for your reward, after all. Why delay any longer?”
She cocked her head in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s really not that complicated, my dear.” He stepped forward and brushed the back of his hand across her mask. “Get on your knees. Now.”
“You can’t be serious,” I breathed. “Here? In the middle of the—”
“This is none of your concern, Sister Asha,” Jorel interrupted. “I gave your friend a command, and I expect her to obey.”
I wondered if Charisse might resist. A part of me desperately hoped that Charisse would resist. But there was absolutely nothing we could do here and she knew it. Only Lysandre could overrule him, which was precisely why he had tracked us halfway across the city…
“Of course, my prince,” Charisse said, slowly dropping to her knees. “I live to serve the Dragon God and all who share his blood.”
“That’s right, you do,” Jorel agreed. He reached out and traced his fingers along the edges of her mask. “We just need to get this out of the way…”
I glanced behind him to the row of Wyrmguard soldiers barely ten feet away. “You can’t!” I growled through my teeth. “Not in public!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone see your pretty face, my dear.” Chuckling softly to himself, he stepped in close enough to block her from his guards’ view, then slowly removed her mask. “Ah, yes. You’ve grown even more beautiful than when I last looked upon you in the academy.”
He turned and handed me her mask. “Be a dear and hold this for a minute, would you?”
I glared down at his offering, my hands trembling at my sides. I wouldn’t have taken it if not for the pleading look on Charisse’s face.
“There you go,” Jorel said. “Now get started, dear. Show me what else you learned at that academy of yours.”
“Yes, my prince,” Charisse said, forcing a smile as she reached into his trousers. His cock was already straining against the seams by the time she worked it free. It was every bit as thick and imposing as his father’s.
Jorel grinned when she took him into her mouth. “Such full, lovely lips. You were born for this, I think. It’s a pity my father has allowed you to waste your talents.”
Charisse began to stroke him more forcefully while she licked at the tip, but he abruptly grabbed her wrist and shook his head. “Not like that, dear,” he scolded. “You know what you need to do.”
After nodding and forcing another smile, she took him deeper and deeper until he was buried all the way into her throat. I couldn’t believe she didn’t gag, especially when he placed his hand at the base of her skull and held her in place.
“Once I ascend to the Onyx Throne, there will be some changes at the academy,” Jorel said between labored breaths. “No weapons, no armor, no combat training. I don’t even see the purpose of the library, frankly. I’ve never understood my father’s obsession with wasting the natural talent of the most beautiful girls in Narthil. My wives will never leave the palace. This is their true purpose.” He turned to face me. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I bit down so hard I was surprised I didn’t break any teeth. I belatedly realized that my right hand was hovering about the handle of my sword, and my left was already clenched into a fist.
“Do it,” Jorel taunted. “Nothing would make me happier.”
I almost took the bait. I knew I couldn’t kill him, but there was a part of me that believed his father would magically appear in the skies overhead and discipline his son. But it didn’t happen, of course, and I instead I was left to seethe helplessly while he had his way with my best friend.
“You’re quite good at this, dear,” Jorel said, turning back to Charisse as he started thrusting more forcefully. “Even better than I would have thought. Maybe I’ll visit your chambers later and give your cunt some attention, too.”
He grabbed her hair in both hands, and soon her slurps and gags were so loud they echoed up and down the bridge. There weren’t any citizens nearby, mercifully, but I could only imagine what the Wyrmguard soldiers were thinking right now. Jorel didn’t just want to humiliate me and Charisse—he wanted to cripple the authority of the Dragon Brides in general.
“Time for your reward,” he blurted out. “Receive the blessing of the Dragon Prince!”
Jorel barely managed to withdraw his cock before he erupted. His seed splattered across her face one jet after another. By the time he was spent, Charisse was covered from chin to forehead. He stood in place for a long moment, proudly inspecting his handiwork, before he cleaned himself off with a handful of her blonde hair.
“Honestly, I think you’re even more beautiful now,” he said. “I doubt anyone would recognize you in your new mask, but I suppose we shouldn’t take our chances. Here, let me help.”
He plucked her mask from my grip and pressed it back onto her face. By the time he’d fastened the straps back in place, his seed was dripping from her chin and oozing out from the narrow holes around her nose and eyes.
“See? All better.” He chuckled softly as he readjusted his trousers. “You may rise, my dear.”
“Thank you, my prince,” Charisse said, standing. I could see her muscles trembling, but otherwise she had somehow maintained her composure. “Do you require anything else?”
“I’m satisfied…for the moment. You may return to the palace.” He waited for her to turn before he abruptly grabbed her wrist. “Just make certain you are alone in your chambers around midnight. I think I’ll pay you a visit. Oh, and make sure you’re naked. I’m a busy man and I’d rather not waste any time.”
“Of course, my prince.”
She offered him a final bow then continued across the bridge. I tried to follow but couldn’t. I still wanted to scream at him. I still wanted to strike him. Failing that, I wanted to draw my sword and kill every single one of the soldiers under his command. But I eventually quelled my rage enough to turn away and storm after Charisse.
We walked together in silence. I couldn’t muster the strength to speak, and her eyes remained locked straight ahead. No one dared cross our path.
“He won’t get away with this,” I said eventually. “I promise you that.”
Charisse did not reply.
Chapter Seven
Charisse went straight back to her quarters. I followed in the hopes I might console her, but I knew there was nothing I could do. Not without attacking this problem at its source.
While she cleaned up and seethed in private, I stormed through the palace to Lysandre’s office. No one else was waiting outside her door, thankfully. If anyone had tried to stop me, I might have actually killed them. I had never been so engaged in my entire life.
“Ah, there you are,” Lysandre said as she glanced up from her desk. “I stopped by your quarters to check on your progress earlier. Imagine my surprise to find out you were gallivanting across the city rather than catching up on your reading. If you want to survive this mission, I suggest you start—”
“Your son humiliated Charisse in front of his men,” I growled, slamming my palm down onto her desk so hard the wood nearly splintered. “The people of Narthil are supposed to fear us—you’ve told me this a hundred times. But how can we possibly maintain order when the Crown Prince makes a mockery of our sisters in plain view of the public?”
Lysandre stared back at me for a long moment, her green eyes glimmering. As a little girl, I’d been so terrified of her wrath that a single stray glare had made me cower in my bunk. Even as a teenager, I’d never once considered lashing out at her for fear of retribution.
But right now, I didn’t care about any of that. My arms were still quivering with rage, and it took all of my self-control to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs.
“You forget yourself, sister,” she said eventually, her voice as cold and bitter as the winter wind. “Crown Prince Jorel is the rightful heir t
o the Onyx Throne. This palace and everything within it belongs to him, including you and your sisters. Your swords and your sorcery, your tits and your cunts—they are all his to command.”
I slammed my hand down a second time. This time the wood did actually splinter around my knuckles. “He sabotages our authority!” I growled. “You cannot expect us to—”
My voice cut out. Not out of fear or hesitation, but because my lungs no longer obeyed my commands. When I instinctively tried to clutch my throat, I belatedly realized that I couldn’t control my arms, either. Somehow, my entire body had been paralyzed…
“I expect you to perform your duties,” Lysandre said, slowly bringing herself to her feet. As she moved, I caught a glimpse of the glowing tattoos beneath the folds of her robe. “That means obeying the Crown Prince as if he were your Emperor. If he commands you to die, you will draw your blade and plunge it into your own heart. If he commands you to fuck, then you will gladly lie down and spread your legs. You may be His Majesty’s favorite for the time being, but that does not make you special. You are still a Dragon Bride, and more than anything else that means you must obey.”
Her eyes continued boring into me as I struggled to break her grip. I had no idea how she was doing this, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. The First Wife was privy to every sorcerous secret, no matter how dangerous. As usual, I had only realized my mistake after it was too late.
“Still, my son must learn his place,” Lysandre went on. “The Dragon Brides are his greatest weapon, and wasting their talents is foolish.”
I crumpled to the floor when she abruptly released her grip on my body. My lungs pleaded for air, and my muscles felt as drained and weak as if I’d just fought my way across a battlefield.
“You are here to protect your friend,” Lysandre said, crossing her arms as she loomed over me. “I sometimes wonder if your emotional attachment has become a liability. Charisse may be your lover, but she is not your wife or your Emperor.”
I licked at my dry lips and propped myself up on my elbow. I wasn’t even sure if I could stand yet, but I desperately wanted to leap up and strangle her. Thankfully, the non-suicidal part of me kept the rest in check.
“She is a loyal Bride and servant of the Dragon God,” I managed. “She deserves to be treated with respect.”
For a fraction of a second, I swore I saw a smile tug at Lysandre’s lips. “You wouldn’t be the first to allow your feelings for a sister to get in the way of your duties.” She stared down at me for a moment longer before she finally offered me a hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”
I started at her hand for a moment, confused, before I allowed her to help me up. The worst of my weariness seemed to wane, and she gestured for me to follow. She escorted me out of her office and through the long, winding corridor towards the throne room where the Council of Wives heard petitioners and debated policy all day. I braced myself for the inevitable barrage of chastisement when she dragged me in front of the others and told them what I’d done…but then Lysandre abruptly turned to her right and led me down a separate hallway. A few moments later we reached a familiar golden door guarded by one of His Majesty’s towering stone golems.
“The catacombs?” I asked, more bewildered than ever.
“A history lesson,” Lysandre said, holding out her hand and touching the glowing rune at the center of the golem’s chest. The creature slowly shuffled off to the side, the gems embedded in its eye sockets still glowing with sorcerous power.
I hadn’t set foot in the Hall of Remembrance for many years, but it was as grim and solemn as I remembered. Every single one of His Majesty’s Brides was buried down here, each with their own portrait and sarcophagus. Those who had ascended to Wives were given an even more grandiose display in the center of the hall, often with a life-size statue chiseled by the most talented sculptors in Thalamar. I had never stopped to count the individual tombs, but I knew there were thousands of women buried down here—enough to span a dozen generations of Dragon Brides all the way back to the founding of Narthil at the end of the Dragon Wars.
Lysandre led me towards one of the statues I remembered seeing when I’d been here last: Aranya, the previous First Wife who had been assassinated by the Vin Aetheri about a decade earlier. Her death had been the insurgent group’s first major “victory,” and they had been gradually gaining in strength and membership ever since.
“I assume you barely remember her,” Lysandre said. “You had only been here a few years, and she never took much of an interest in the acolytes until they were older.”
“She caned me once when I tried to smuggle an extra pastry into my room,” I said. “I’m not sure I ever spoke to her again after that.”
“Consider yourself fortunate. She would not have tolerated your willful streak as I do.”
Lysandre glared at the statue for another moment before she shuffled over to an empty sarcophagus nearby. She placed her hands upon the cold stone, and I watched in silence as a dozen different emotions vied for supremacy on her face. I had never seen her like this before. She almost looked…vulnerable.
“You and I are more alike than anyone realizes,” she said. “When I was first brought to the Academy as a child, I struggled to adapt to life here. The only reason I survived was because of one of my sisters. Her name was Shandris, and she was easily the most talented acolyte in our class.”
“I’ve never met a Bride by that name.”
“That’s because she died almost twenty years ago. This was supposed to be her grave.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Aranya despised the two of us,” Lysandre said, glancing back over her shoulder to the statue. “She was cold, imperious, and brutal. I’m sure that reminds you of someone.”
“Not at all,” I murmured.
Lysandre almost smiled again. “Aranya thought we were weak. In her eyes, our relationship made us vulnerable. She believed that our feelings for each other would inevitably get in the way of our duties, and she tried to cast us out of the order because of it. Fortunately, His Majesty disagreed.”
“Shandris and I quickly became his favorites,” she went on. “He summoned us to his chambers almost every night, and sometimes he’d even have both of us together. We didn’t know why, but we enjoyed his affection…and the jealousy it instilled in our sisters. I’m sure you understand.”
I grunted softly. A part of me did draw strength from their envy, even if I didn’t always consciously think about it. Charisse thought I had a massive chip on my shoulder, and she was probably right. I’d always been annoyed at how little respect I’d been given at the academy despite my superior abilities. The master’s attention was the ultimate validation.
“A few months later, His Majesty made Shandris and I an offer we couldn’t refuse,” Lysandre went on. “In exchange for our undying loyalty, he would plant the seed of Narthil’s future within our bellies. You can only imagine First Wife Aranya’s rage when she learned that we, mere Dragon Brides, had been chosen to bear the Dragon God’s children.”
My lips parted, but I managed to stifle a gasp. Carry out my will, and I shall plant the seed of Narthil’s future inside you…
“Nine months later, we each gave birth to a healthy child,” Lysandre said. “You can scarcely imagine the people’s joy. After almost three centuries of rule, their king and guardian had finally sired potential heirs to the Onyx Throne. Aranya, unsurprisingly, was less enthused.”
I glanced back to the unmarked sarcophagus. I had no idea that Prince Jorel had a brother…or rather, a half-brother.
“I’m sure you’re asking yourself how this is possible,” Lysandre said softly. “How could Narthil have two heirs when my son is the only Crown Prince?
“Aranya,” I reasoned. “She betrayed you?”
“She betrayed everyone,” Lysandre said, folding her arms across her chest and pacing away again. “It took her almost two years, but she eventually got he
r vengeance. She convinced everyone, even our beloved king, that Shandris was a traitor. I tried to defend her, of course, but Aranya had thought of everything. The Council of Wives acted quickly. They dragged Shandris and her shrieking child to the throne room and promptly beheaded them in front of every Dragon Bride in Thalamar.”
My stomach turned. “Dragon’s mercy….”
“He didn’t spare any that day or on many days since,” Lysandre said bitterly. “The public was never told of Shandris’s true fate. The heralds announced that her ship had been destroyed in a storm just off the coast of Vantriss, and the Council of Wives arranged an elaborate funeral procession. Here in the catacombs, her tomb was left unmarked and empty. Her corpse—and that of her son—were cast into the sea.”
My eyes flicked back to the empty grave. I’d never heard of any of this before, though my family lived far enough to the east that they often missed news from the capital. Still, my parents must have known about the death of a prince. I probably just didn’t remember—I had only been a toddler at the time, after all. I couldn’t even remember my own parent’s faces at this point…
“Aranya’s deception was never punished,” Lysandre went on eventually. “I committed myself to avenging Shandris’s death, but the Vin Aetheri got to her first. They murdered Aranya and several other Brides during the Rukatha Massacre almost ten years ago to this day.”
“I remember that,” I whispered. I’d only been nine at the time, but I could still recall the instructors dragging us out of bed and telling us what had happened. Many things changed in the following days. Vaylin had taken over as chief instructor, for one, but Lysandre had also become the new First Wife. She had taken a much more active role in the training of acolytes, and defeating the Vin Aetheri had soon become our singular focus.
“I’ve never spoken of this to anyone before today,” Lysandre said, turning back around to face me. “The reason I’m telling you now is because I want you to understand the dangers of attachment. Cherish your friendship. Draw strength from your sister. And never take what you have for granted.”