“How is that possible?” her mother asked.
“They had a ruse prepared,” Antaios replied. “Finctus messengers seen entering Fortunata.”
Unable to contain herself at that nugget, Persephone chimed in, “What do you mean?”
“The rumor is that Barbarus has entered into negotiations with the Finctus,” the king answered.
Both Persephone and her mother stared at him dumbly.
“You cannot be serious,” her mother said worriedly at the same time as Persephone asked, “Is it true?”
“I do not know if it is true,” the king admitted, “but it is the story we were instructed to provide.”
“If Fortunata allied with the Finctus, they could easily take control of all overland trade routes held by Xenakai and put strain on our mainland ports.” Persephone pondered. “That would be enough incentive for Barbarus to hear the Finctus out.”
“Along with their close proximity to the Finctus and lack of allies in the East. I agree,” her father said. “If it is true, we have to assume Barbarus will entertain the proposal, even if it is difficult to imagine him bending knee.”
“How does the Council plan to proceed?” her mother asked.
“They are split. Some want war, some want to send envoys of our own. Others still offer nothing helpful and seek only to veto every option presented. As they do not know of the more pressing dangers to our own kingdom, I suspect that this will remain our focus for this season.”
Persephone heard the key in the lock before anyone else did. She straightened to meet the gaze of her usual escort. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Her mother clasped her face in her hands and kissed her cheek before Persephone made her way to the door and fell into step with him. The other soldier that always walked with them flanked her other side.
Things had gone from bad to worse in a heartbeat. If Fortunata was negotiating with the Finctus, then they had effectively moved in on two of the three Great Houses left. With either Fortunata or Galilae under Finctus control, the remaining Free Kingdoms would be hard pressed indeed to withstand invasion. With both of them? Well, the Free Kingdoms of the East would not remain free for long at all. It was more important than ever to get information and devise a plan. Unfortunately, she would be unable to do so if she continued to fight with the general – Augustine, she corrected herself. He wanted her to call him Augustine. If she continued to fight with him at every turn, she would never learn anything of import. It might make her feel better in the moment and for a short time after, but it did nothing to benefit her family, Galilae, nor the rest of its occupants. Not to mention, he was well aware of her reasons for being so abrasive. Avoiding another conversation like the one they’d had earlier in the day was incentive enough for her to stop.
Resisting the sigh of dismay that begged for release, she decided it best to get into character immediately.
“What are your names?” Although it was always the same soldiers assigned to her, she had never asked. She had never cared. At this point all information was useful information, and she knew from experience that lack of status did not necessarily equate with lack of knowledge.
One of them ignored her completely while the other – the one she considered the kinder of the two because she associated him with relieving Koli of her burden in the Grand Hall the first night – looked at her with equal parts suspicion and curiosity, but did not answer.
Persephone was undeterred. “You must think me quite the snob. I should have asked previously. You have been very polite.”
“Seneca.”
“Seneca.” She shot him her most charming smile. “A pleasure to meet you. I am Persephone.”
He smiled back, but his eyes maintained their previous combination of misgiving and wonder. “I know who you are, Princess.”
“Of course you do.” She laughed lightly. “I was merely attempting to compensate for my previous rudeness.”
“I do not think any of us expected you to play the gracious hostess.”
“Hmm. I suppose not.” She returned her attention to the other solider, opting to try one more time since his counterpart had replied. “And am I to learn your name?”
He looked at her briefly, before returning his attention to the corridor in front of them. She was familiar enough with them to recognize a snub when she saw one. Suppressing a smile, she turned back to the first soldier, Seneca. “Does he speak?” She kept her tone light.
The corner of Seneca’s mouth twitched. “Lucius speaks when he wants to.”
She heard the sigh of annoyance from her other side and winked at Seneca to thank him for providing the name. “May I ask your rank?” She turned her full smile on him once again.
He considered her before answering. “I am a sergeant.”
“And would you prefer I call you by your name or by your rank?”
They were almost to the king’s chamber. “Whichever you prefer, Princess.”
“You may call me Persephone.” They stood in front of the door. “And everyone has a preference on how they are called. I prefer to know yours.”
“You are wanted inside, Princess.” He opened the door and stepped to the side to allow her through.
“As you will it, Sergeant.”
He smiled as she sauntered past him, closing and locking the door behind her. Augustine was walking toward the door with wine in hand. He was watching her enquiringly. “Making friends?”
“You know how my personality dazzles as the noonday sun.” She curtsyed slightly.
His mouth tilted in amusement. “You can be very charming when you want to be. Though you’d be wise to save your energy.” He moved past her. “Lucius does not like you and Seneca is too smart to be tricked into giving away our secrets for a pretty smile. It is one of the reasons he was assigned to you.”
He turned and sat in one of the plush chairs. She noticed he’d turned it so that it was facing the bed rather than the sitting lounge now behind him.
“Then send me a really dumb one.”
Augustine tipped his head back and laughed. She hadn’t heard him laugh. Not really. His rich baritone rolled over her pleasantly. It was the infectious kind of laugh that was hard to resist joining. When he returned his gaze to her, mirth still sparkled in his eyes. He liked her best playful, she’d noticed. He always seemed at his most relaxed when she was carefree and teasing. It didn’t matter if he doubted her sincerity; if he liked it, he would want to believe it. And if he chose to believe it was real, he might even relax enough for her to get something from him.
She made her way toward him, but he held up a hand for her to stop. “Move to the side of the bed.” His eyes were no longer twinkling with merriment, they were burning with hunger. She did as he instructed so that she was facing him with her back to the bed. “Undress.”
A seductive smile curled her lips. Slowly, she undid the clasp of her zoster, and teasingly pushed her chiton off her shoulders before letting it drop to the floor.
“You know how to please yourself.” Asked in that not-a-question way of his.
“Of course.” Her smile grew. Warmth pooling in her core, her stomach clenched at his direction.
“Get onto the bed, feet on the edge, and do so.”
She felt a rush of moisture in her channel and her nipples hardened almost painfully. “You mean not to join me?”
“Eventually. I’m in a mood to watch.” He continued to do so over the lip of his cup as he took a sip.
“As you will it.” Sounding slightly breathless, she slid onto the side of the bed without turning away from him.
Feeling simultaneously excited and shy at the prospect of touching herself so openly, she laid back and pulled her feet up. She opted to let her knees fall open rather than keep them pointed toward the ceiling and took a shuddering breath. She’d found pleasure at her own hand many times. No one had ever watched, though, and she found herself feeling surprisingly self-conscious. Significantly more so than she did during
sex itself. Something about this act felt far more intimate.
Relieved that he probably couldn’t see the blush on her face, she moved her hands to cup her breasts, pinching and plucking her nipples, every pull feeling like there was a direct link to her sex. Pretending she was alone, she continued to fondle one breast, while sliding her other hand down her stomach to her cunt. Unsurprisingly, she was already slick. It seemed she always was when she was with him – a thing that still disturbed her. She slipped one finger inside long enough to coat it with her juices before focusing all her attention on her key. The place men joked about, but whose precise location it seemed most were woefully ignorant of.
Hearing movement, she tilted her head to look around her body. Augustine had set his wine down and was moving toward her. Already naked, she could see his arousal clearly and she smiled invitingly. She was still sore from the previous night, but it did nothing to quell her body’s desire for his.
When he reached the edge of the bed, he adjusted her legs so that he was positioned between them, and though she could feel the heat of him near her entrance, he made no move to connect them. He hadn’t told her to stop, so she’d continued to play with herself, feeling his eyes on her as distinctly as she would a physical caress. She realized distantly that she wanted him to touch her.
Whether of his own volition or because he sensed her desire, he placed an open palm on her stomach and, so slowly it bordered on painful, slid it upward. Her breathing escalated, her sex clenched. He slid his hand between her breasts without ever touching her where she wanted him to before finally settling his open palm over her throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, the gesture feeling more possessive than threatening. It shouldn’t have aroused her, yet it did. She arched her back, tilting her chin skyward.
“Look at me.”
She did. He was leaning over her, weight supported on one arm. Hand still resting on her throat. Cock pushed snugly against her, but remaining infuriatingly immobile.
“I would apologize to you properly.”
She wasn’t sure what a proper apology consisted of, and she looked at him questioningly as he lowered his mouth to hers. He brushed his palm in a circle over top of one hardened nipple as their lips connected. Her body’s response was instantaneous. Heat spread from her core outward. No longer able to keep her eyes open, they rolled back.
Wrapping one arm around her waist and hooking the other under her thigh, he picked her up, righting himself before climbing onto the bed and shifting them to the middle of it. A quick tug on the back of her knees nestled her on her back amongst the pillows. Rather than cover her body with his own as she expected him to, he moved lower, stopping only long enough to draw one of her nipples into his mouth. She arched in response to his firm suckling and moued her displeasure when he released it with a pop. Settling himself comfortably between her legs he eyed her cunt greedily.
“What are you doing?” Though she’d used her mouth on many men, none had ever used theirs on her. As she had never been interested in sex for pleasure’s sake, she’d never felt like she was missing anything.
“Consider it a whim,” he told her glibly before licking the length of her slit and pulling her sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth.
“Oh.” Her voice betrayed her surprise and her arousal.
There were no teasing licks, or tender kisses. He sucked hard, simultaneously rubbing his tongue firmly against her. When she shifted and writhed against the pressure, he used his hands and arms to hold her hips and legs still. When her muscles began to twitch, pre-empting her climax, he immediately removed his mouth. In response to her sharp inhalation, he looked up to meet her gaze. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and she looked down her body at him through narrowed eyes, confused about his intent.
Palm down on her hip, he rested his chin on the back of his hand and smiled innocently. Tilting his head slightly, he ran his free hand over her and followed the path with his lips. “I love how smooth you are.”
With the exception of that on her head and her eyebrows, her body was completely devoid of hair. A consequence of the obsessive beauty and hygiene habits in Galilae. She’d been subjected to the painful full-body waxing process ever since the hair began growing in visibly.
“Are all women in Galilae hairless?”
Still caressing her skin with his hand and lips, he pushed two fingers into her. Wet from her near orgasm, they slid in easily. She experienced only a fleeting moment of discomfort from their coupling the previous night before her body adjusted. Lazily, he rotated his hand and crooked his fingers to stroke her inner walls while he resumed teasing her with his tongue and lips.
“No,” she uttered breathily, requiring all of her concentration to remember his question and answer it. “It is a sign of status. Only the very wealthy – oh!” Her back bowed.
Continuing to use his fingers, he blew on her. “And how is the hair removed?”
“Beeswax.” She panted the word as he began to move his thumb in circles directly on her nub. “And muslin cloth.”
Wound up from her near-release, her body climbed quickly.
“Fascinating.” Quickly removing his hand, he once again ceased all stimulation.
“Not really!” She was glaring at him, frustrated that he had denied her a second time. “Why are we talking about this?”
He continued to gaze innocuously at her. “I’ve not been intimate with a woman whose cunt was hairless.” Popping an arousal soaked finger into his mouth, he sucked it clean. “I was mildly curious.” Then the other finger. “Mostly, I just like to hear you talk when you’re aroused and wanting.”
“This is your idea of a proper apology?”
“Patience, Princess.” He cupped her sex and slipped two fingers into her channel. While he worked her from the inside, he flicked his tongue against her. “Has no one ever prolonged your pleasure for the sake of increasing the intensity of your release?”
She was so close, and feeling slightly desperate for it. As Persephone had only found release at her own hand, she certainly had never tortured her body in such a way. She might scream if he denied her a third time. “I’ve never found release with anyone but you.”
She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and the candid admission shocked her, dousing her desire as effectively as if she had jumped into a cold pool. She was so surprised at herself that she didn’t even feel disappointment at the realization he’d once again ceased all stimulation and was looking at her astoundedly.
Persephone made a disgusted noise in her throat, directed as much at herself as at him. “Do not read too much into the matter.”
He smiled wickedly from between her thighs. “No need. You must have been with some truly worthless cunts indeed.”
He had no way of knowing how true his words rang.
* * * *
A possessive sense of sheer male satisfaction washed over him at the newfound knowledge. There was no doubt in his mind it was true. Though she had recovered herself quickly, shuttering her expression back into one of soft tranquility – a lover’s look – he knew she had spoken inadvertently. In that moment when she had been completely honest, she had looked more stunned by the revelation than he felt. His surprise was primarily in the knowledge that she had admitted it, followed closely by her admission that no one had bothered to learn her body in such ways. She had a face and body that should be worshipped.
Suddenly he felt the shift, the moment she began retreating back into herself. Nothing changed physically. Her muscles didn’t tense; even her expression stayed the same. The difference was palpable nonetheless. The wary alertness lurking in her eyes seemed so out of place set in that tranquil expression. Surely, she must grow tired of always pretending.
Frustrated at her emotional withdrawal, he quickly shifted. “I think not,” he told her as he moved to cover her body with his own and captured her lips with his.
Her body’s physical response to him was one of the few things he’d found that was comp
letely unmanufactured. There were some elements of attraction and desire that could be faked, but there were also those that couldn’t. Knowing she experienced both, Augustine hoped to draw an authentic reaction from her – even if it was anger. It might not be a fair way of achieving his ends, but at least it elicited an honest response.
When he broke the kiss, she cast her eyes to the side. The slight tilt to her head put the bruise he’d given her directly in his line of sight. It did not please him to see it there, and lifting his hand, he brushed it with his thumb as he’d done earlier. Subtly she tilted her head further, creating a hairsbreadth of distance between them. It might as well have been an ocean. He kissed the spot tenderly. A silent apology.
“Are we finished?” Her tone was passive, but her meaning was clear.
“I would finish apologizing.”
“Do as you like.”
“What would you like?”
She clenched her teeth briefly. “Do as you like, Augustine.”
He moved off of her. She’d done it on purpose, but he’d prefer her not to use his name than to use it as a slur as she just had. Taking his time, he walked to the sitting area and poured a glass of wine.
“Stay. Have a drink with me.”
She was already mostly dressed when he turned around, diligently avoiding his gaze. “Why?”
It would seem she had tired of being charming. Likely her unexpected admission had thrown her and she was looking to make a hasty retreat. She also seemed to be working hard to display a non-reaction. He smiled humorously at the thought.
“We never talk.” He managed to sound light despite his irritation.
“We are not friends.”
“Maybe I want to be friends.”
Finally she looked at him. There was nowhere else to look, she was fully clothed. “Friendship is not part of our arrangement.” Her tone and expression were bland, but he suspected open hostility simmered just beneath the surface.
“Sit, Persephone.” She glanced at the door quickly before walking over and dropping into one of the lounge chairs. He handed her the fresh wine while retrieving his own and sat down in the chair next to her. She sniffed the wine before setting it on the end table without touching it.
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