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Chapter 42

T he portly male on stage cleared his throat, slicking back his sweat-damp hair between chunky, short horns. His tunic was soaked, too, white fabric sticking to his body, accentuating the arrhythmic heaving of his chest.

Sobs rang from the audience as he launched into yet another yammering stanza of somber poetry about some tragic war hero or another, sacrificing themselves for the good of Xar'vath.

While I hadn't paid full attention to the first half of the performances, I enjoyed them. But this? I cringed. Would this ever end?

The announcer had dated this supposed masterwork back to the early days of the empire, written by one of the greatest philosophical minds and poets the Xar'vathi ever brought forth. I'd forgotten the author's long, complicated name, and to me, the hungry yowling of stray cats would have been more pleasant.

Skrain didn't seem all too touched either. His antsy hands crept under my skirt, rubbing along my thighs, setting fire to my blood.

I moaned, praying to any Gods who would listen that he'd finally put his fingers where I needed them most. "Fuck," I breathed.

Emily let out a quiet laugh. "I think I will get to do just that," she said, eyes fixed on the box across.

Emperor Laxandral whispered to his wife, who gave a reluctant nod. Xynthia sat on her mother's other side, her gaze snapping from the stage to her father as he got up, her fingers digging into the upholstered armrest. She frowned, her lips moving, but the Emperor didn't pay her any mind and exited.

Almost simultaneously, a low, male voice drifted from behind the curtain to our own box.

"Miss Emily, your presence is expected in the rooftop garden."

That was all he said, all he needed to. Expected , not requested—the implication was clear.

Emily rose with a flourish of red silk and a flick of golden hair, sashaying to the exit. "Have fun, you two!" she said before slipping out into the hallway.

Skrain grinned, his tail slinking between my thighs, grazing my sex. My pussy ached. It felt like he'd teased me for hours, which was pretty accurate at this point.

"What do you say …" He nibbled along the shell of my ear, and I melted into his embrace as he tugged me onto his lap. "How about we make good use of our time while Emily does her job, huh? Does my darling wife finally deserve an orgasm? Was she an obedient girl for her master tonight?"

The crowd broke into applause while the curtains closed. Skrain's hard cock rubbed against my rear, shifting the plug in my ass, and light flickered in front of my eyes as I tried to find some focus in my lust-addled brain.

The announcer stepped onto the stage, silencing the guests as he raised his arms high. "And as the last act for tonight, we present to you, the famous palace choir … the Voices of the Empire's Glory !"

"Please, Skrain," I rasped against the background noise of cheers. "Please let me come. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He shifted, pulling up my skirt in the back, and twisted the plug. I jerked, my clit throbbing as if struck by thunder. "Then admit that you're my whore, my toy, my perverted little wife who likes to get fucked in both holes in front of the entire Xar'vathi court."

A whimper escaped me. "I-I'll be whatever you want me to be, Skrain. Your whore, your toy, your fuckhole. Just please, fill me. I need to feel you now, I-I think I'm going crazy!"

"You sound so sweet when you beg for my dick," he said and lifted my rear with one arm, his other hand untying the front of his trousers.

"But don't go home just yet after the curtain falls," the announcer continued. "Please join us for a fitting end to this joyful night and assemble in the theater square to watch the fireworks."

The crowd roared, and that same instant, Skrain yanked me downward. I yelped as his iron length parted my flesh, slamming inside me from tip to hilt—all at once.

I didn't need to wait until later for fireworks.

Euphoria exploded inside my belly, spreading tingles through my blood. Every inch of my body trembled as I rode the high he denied me for so long. I stammered, my hand flying to my mouth as my eyes watered.

"You're like a bitch in heat, coming just from me putting it in," Skrain hissed. "I haven't even started fucking you yet, but you're so damn needy for my cock, you can't even keep it together. You can't even speak. Listen to yourself sputter and moan."

He grabbed me around the waist, taking up hard, short thrusts that had me bouncing on his lap. A smooth vine sprung from each of his palms, snaking crisscross up my chest, encircling me. They wound tight around the base of my breasts, perking them up through my dress. The living ropes squeezed until it hurt, and my pussy convulsed.

A crescendo of reverent, angelic voices filled my buzzing ears as the choir on stage sang the praises of the Emperor and the High Priest, honoring the Gods and the desert.

"I'll never tire of hurting you, Kerys," Skrain groaned. "It's your own fault, you're just so fucking beautiful when you suffer."

The vines grew. My breasts still in their unrelenting grip, they slithered higher. They wrapped around my throat, choking me, and I gasped for air.

"We don't have much time, my darling wife. How many times can I make you come before the singing stops?"

Skrain angled his thrusts deeper, forward, and my body answered his question.

With the plug in my ass and his dick stretching my cunt, I felt so full, I couldn't hold on. I unraveled again, my pulse raging in my ears, my pussy like a vise around Skrain's cock. Dizziness overwhelmed me, and I panted through that hurricane of an orgasm, white-knuckling the railing.

"That's two, Kerys," he brought out, my name more primal growl than speech. "This is amazing … with every thrust, I feel the toy in your ass, sliding against me through your thin inner walls. Makes you even tighter than usual, damn?—"

His voice cut off as he twitched inside me. I knew he was having a hard time holding back, but he was restraining himself for me, for the sake of my pleasure.

"One more," he moaned. "Give me …" Thrust . "One." Thrust . "More."

His right hand slipped from my waist to my groin. He found my clit hood piercing, applying pressure, massaging. The snaps of his hips didn't let up, pushing my lust higher. Higher.

Black pressed into my vision as climax number three whirled through me. For a moment, I forgot where we were, who I was, the ecstasy becoming all-encompassing. All-overwhelming.

Skrain didn't last a second longer than he had to.

His hot release filled me, but he didn't stop fucking me, didn't stop rutting into me until his essence was leaking out of me.

He slumped back on the sofa, dragging me with him. The vines retreated, letting me breathe, and we sat together—both a mess now.

The finishing notes of the choir echoed in the hall before applause filled the space a final time. Skrain put a kiss on the side of my neck, brushing a strand of damp hair from my forehead.

"They'll give an encore, as they do each year," he said, contentment and exhaustion lacing his tone. "But we should go. I think we can both use a trip to the washroom before we meet up with Emily and hopefully seal the deal."

I nodded, too dazed to speak, and he pulled me to my feet. Hand in hand, giggling like drunk youths, we snuck into the hallway.

We used the same bathroom this time, helping to make each other look presentable. It took a little pleading until Skrain removed the plug from my ass and put it in his pocket, allowing me to better concentrate on the task ahead. I wouldn't have admitted it, but I missed the sensation almost immediately.

As we exited, the hallways filled with guests streaming outside to watch the fireworks. We were looking for the Empress, trying to make it seem like we'd run into her by accident, when two guards parted the crowds, her Highness Nadyra in tow. She came up to us, wringing her hands, and her eyes found mine.

"Have you seen my husband or my daughter?" she asked quietly, lip quivering.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. We were on our way downstairs for the fireworks."

Her brow furrowed. "Veryn was called away to receive an urgent message from the High Priest, and Xynthia left a few minutes ago. She stormed out of the box just before the curtain closed." She paused, searching gaze flicking along the merry crowd.

I stretched out a hand, and the Empress startled as I laid it on her shoulder. "I'm sure they're fine. Why don't we enjoy the fireworks together in the dome, away from the crowds?" I suggested with a smile. "Perhaps they had the same idea and they're already waiting for you up there."

The Empress gave a series of hectic nods. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I'm probably worrying about nothing again." Sighing, she signaled the two soldiers, and as a group, we made for the guarded portal.

I swallowed hard, concealing my discomfort as we led her right into the trap we'd set. But we hadn't accounted for one unexpected rogue agent disrupting our scheme.

Birds startled from the trees as a shrill shriek pierced my ears. The thicket rustled, and Empress Nadyra blanched, her guards stepping in front of her, polished swords raised to protect her. Skrain did the same, albeit unarmed, pulling me close, behind him.

"Let go, you crazy bitch!" someone yelled.

Not someone.

Emily .

My heart dropped into my belly.

With a dramatic screech, in a ball of red silk and blonde tresses with twigs and leaves stuck in them, Emily tumbled from the underbrush. Holding on to the torn front of her dress, she scrambled to her feet, one heel broken. Her bold makeup was smeared, tears running down her face. She was not only a good actress, but also brilliant at improvising.

"Skrain, Kerys," she pleaded, looking to us. "You have to believe me, I?—"

The bushes parted and the Princess shot forward, grabbing Emily by the hair, cutting her off.

"I should have you executed!" Xynthia shouted. "And worse, you're a Gods damned Human!"

Emperor Laxandral stumbled from the trees, fiddling with the front of his trousers, cheeks a bright red—almost as red as the lipstick prints all over his mouth and throat.

That sight was what it took for the Empress to finally snap.

"Veryn, how could you do this to me!" Empress Nadyra sobbed. Her flustered guards made way as she stepped forward to speak to her husband, pressing both hands to her face. "And in front of our guests!"

"M-my dear, it's not what it looks like I—" he stammered like a walking cliché, but the Princess's furious yell interrupted him.

She jumped toward the closest of her mother's guards, taking him by surprise. Her fist landed square in his face. Bone cracked, while her other hand grabbed the stunned man's sword, wrestling the hilt from his grip.

She pointed the blade at her father, the tip sitting right beneath his chin. The metal drew a single drop of crimson, trickling down his neck. "For as long as I can remember, you've humiliated Mother with your escapades. But this, this is enough! I was a fucking idiot to blame the women you've taken to your bed when I should have cut the root of the problem."

Emperor Laxandral's throat bobbed, eyes wide as he raised his hands in defeat. "You're r-right. I should have?—"

"It's too late now, you disgusting cheater," Xynthia gritted out through clenched teeth.

The Empress gasped, unstoppable rivers of tears flowing across her cheeks as she stretched a trembling arm toward her daughter. "Xynthia, please, don't?—"

"No!" The Princess avoided her, slapping her fingers away. "I've watched this my entire life, and I won't stand by another day! If you won't do anything about it, I will!"

The second guard threw helpless glances at his liege, but the Emperor and his wife ignored him. Skrain's gaze found mine, and in an instant, I knew he was thinking the same thing I did.

We had planned a broken heart, for the Empress to walk in on her husband and Emily—not the overthrowing of the Xar'vathi throne.

Skrain coughed pointedly, and Xynthia looked to him for the span of a heartbeat, but it was long enough.

Empress Nadyra's hand shot out, reaching for the sword, and reflexively, the Princess twirled, swinging the blade.

A cry echoed through the silence. The clattering of metal hitting the ground.

My pulse hitched as Empress Nadyra dropped to her knees, clutching her wrist.

Blood poured from a gash on her forearm, painting the beige stone tiles bright crimson. Skrain reached into his back pocket, taking out a fresh linen tissue, and the breath rushed from my lungs as he gave it to me.

We had planned a subtler method of drawing the Empress's blood. The idea was to enter the garden, then hear suspicious noises and investigate. Together, we were meant to creep through the underbrush and discover the Emperor with Emily.

A few weeping scratches on the Empress's arms from Skrain's thorns—unpoisoned, of course—would have been easily disguised, explained by the thick vegetation, but this method worked, too.

Everyone froze, watching me crouch down next to the Empress, dabbing at the wound. I soaked the thin fabric with red until it weighed heavy on my palm and stood, gesturing at the paralyzed guards.

"The Empress needs help, can't you see? Get Dr. Mavix!" I exclaimed.

My order startled everyone into action. Panic broke out.

The guards hurried to the exit, while the Princess fell to the floor beside her mother, sobbing her apologies. With a wry smile, Emperor Laxandral bowed down to his wife, brushing in gentle strokes over her back.

"We should give them some privacy," Skrain said, a far too believable mask of concern drawing his brows and lips downward.

I nodded, enveloping the sanguine tissue in my closed fist, the blood sticky and warm against my skin.

Emily hobbled with us, clicking her tongue as she tugged at her ruined dress. "Nobody said I'd be assaulted tonight."

"You've had worse," Skrain whispered with a wink.

I looked over my shoulder at the royal family, their silhouettes fading as I passed through the portal. The muffled explosions of fireworks drifted through the deserted theater hallway.

Who knew what would become of those three broken hearts up in the roof garden.

In public, their spotless images would remain. A strong nation needed a strong royal family. And in private … maybe this was the catalyst they needed to finally start a conversation, to heal old wounds.

Who could say if Emperor Laxandral would change his ways? If Empress Nadyra wanted to forgive him for decades of infidelity? Or if Xynthia could ever respect her father again?

At least, I wished for peace for them.

Skrain smiled at me as he took my hand, and my mood lightened a little.

None of that was for us to judge or worry about. We had gotten exactly what we needed.

One step closer to freedom.

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