Merrie slipped out of the Shadows and landed on the carpeted floor of the balcony. The deep pile cradled her knees like a blanket. It was soft and smelled of incense and dust. Around her, the heavily carved rails and walls created a sense of tension in the air, a stillness that would have driven her to silence even if she could talk.
It was dark on the balcony and everything had a thin sheen of dust over it. She could see through the shadows easily and looked around curiously. The balcony was large enough for six people to sit, but there was only two chairs. Both were large and well-padded, with heavily carved arms and legs depicting the World Tree and the royal seals. On both sides of each chair were matching end tables, covered in a few leather-bound books that showed no signs of being touched for months, if not years.
Merrie didn't know the place and she had no memory of it from her master's memory. Very few thieves ever made it to the Royal Courts and those who did were usually down on the main floor, with the judges passing sentence on them.
She crawled over the railing and peered down. The court hall was a large room arranged like a music hall. Five banks of a hundred chairs were spread out in a hemisphere with everyone looking at a stone platform in the center. In front of the platform was a large stone table wide enough for five judges to preside over court cases. The table glowed with protective magic and there was no subtlety in the runes that decorated it. It was a reminder that judges were untouchable, by magic or sword or psychics.
For minor crimes, which rarely made it to the Royal Court, only one judge would be sitting behind the table. For rulings that impacted the entire country or crimes against royalty, there would be five. For Rakin, three chairs were set out but no one sat in them.
About a third of the chairs surrounding the platform were filled. People sat reading books or working on notes. A few chatted among themselves with casual boredom. All of them were waiting patiently for the trial of the century: Rakin's. He was scheduled to appear in an hour, but those waiting wanted good seat to watch him weasel out of his crimes.
On the far side of the hall, Merrie spotted Kirin standing in a long jacket that was only buttoned enough to shield her cock from public view. Nir and Scorch sat behind her, lost in each other's eyes. Elf, Pristine, and Monk milled around, talking quietly to themselves.
Elf was wearing more clothes than Merrie had ever seen before, but the colors on the shirt and trousers were almost blinding. They looked like a thousand butterflies sewn together. And he still wore his wings.
Pristine wore a floor-length, sheath dress that she used for the days when she was an escort. It was a trifle fancy for court, but it looked good on her. It also had a slit up the side clear to her breasts that would let it be pulled open to expose as much as her customer wanted. The only thing that shielded her from indecency was a single black thread at her hips. Every time she moved, she gave tantalizing glimpses of her bare thigh and the curve of her bare sex.
The only one who dressed normally was Monk. The mage remained in his red robes and matching cloth over his eyes. He never changed, as far as Merrie could tell, but she didn't spend much time to know if he has a thousand identical outfits or somehow kept it clean in other ways.
Kirin ordered Merrie to remain out of sight and silent for the trial. After she was rescued, a court recorder illustrated the damage done to her. Two seers observed the process to certify it. But, the lawyers and Kirin both felt that Merrie's cropping would confuse the public, but not the judges. So, the illustrations of her bloody, beaten body would remain under seal and only seen by the judges to make their final decisions. And the perverts who managed to get into the sealed records.
Merrie was comfortable missing her hands and feet, but the others were afraid that she could come off as begging to be beaten and tortured. She didn't understand how the two were related, just because she was a whore and missing her hands didn't automatically mean she wanted to be raped and tortured. Though, in her case, the real problem was that the line between rape and consent blurred more than almost any living being in the city.
She blushed. The submissive part of her still craved Rakin's brutality or Tamin's ferocity. But, she was content to remain hidden. The shadows were her home and her name a secret. She crawled into the corner of the balcony and the railing and let the shade drape over her. She needed to watch, there was no way Kirin could stop her, but she could do it from an abandoned balcony above the trial.
As if sensing Merrie was thinking about her, Kirin suddenly looked around. Slowly, her gaze lifted as she scanned the balconies that surrounded the great hall. A moment later, her eyes slid past Merrie before she turned around. A moment later, she shrugged and returned her attention to Elf and Pristine. Sipping her glass, she stepped over and joined in the conversation.
“Natalie!”
Merrie looked up as a man and woman came rushing down the aisle toward Nir. She had seen them before, they were in Nir's nightmares since the day she ran away from home. Her mother, Dulcia, was in the lead, arms held out widely as if she was a loving mother desperately missing her girl.
Nir screamed out into her pillow as her mother held her shoulders down. The woman's hands were twisted around Nir's nightgown, tightening it around her neck as she struggled to keep her down. “Come on, baby,” slurred her mother, “just let your daddy show you a good time. He's going to make you a real woman. And then we can all be a happy family.” The stench of alcohol was thick on her mother's breath and it burned the back of Nir's throat.
She tried to kick out as her father grabbed her ankles and forced them apart. Her tears were ignored as he crawled up between them, his cock already dripping with excitement.
Merrie could feel the real reason behind Dulcia's desire to reconnect to her daughter. Dulcia had seen Nir as a nuisance and an embarrassment. She didn't miss Nir since she ran away and was thankful that she didn't have to care for the young girl. Even on the days she saw Nir huddling in the cold, coughing violently, she just smiled and continued shopping.
But, when Rakin's attack became news and the gossip burned across in the city, Natalie's name came up. Suddenly, the daughter that she couldn't wait to get rid of was famous. And Dulcia saw the opportunity to get her fifteen minutes of fame. She was already planning her tear-filled, dramatic speeches against the evil of the fallen count.
Merrie felt sick to her stomach. At least Rakin had just beaten and raped her. He was forward and honest with his desires. Dulcia, on the other hand, wanted to use her daughter for her own desires, just like letting her husband rape her daughter to rekindle their relationship.
“Oh, my baby girl! My poor baby girl!” Dulcia held out her hand as she rushed around the last few chairs. Her somber dress fluttered behind her and her heels clicked on the floor.
Nir saw her mother and cringed. With a whimper, she clutched Scorch's arm and ducked behind him. The fear radiating out from her mind sickened Merrie even more.
Gathering up her energy, Merrie started to craft a domination spell to get rid of the detestable woman.
Kirin looked up sharply at her, staring directly into Merrie's eyes. There was no question that the guild mistress could see Merrie despite the shade protecting her. Kirin shook her head once.
Merrie let the spell go, her heart thumping. She didn't think anyone could see her. But, the guild mistress surprised her more than a few times.
Kirin held up her glass of wine and winked. As Dulcia came rushing up, she stepped to the side to block the woman's path.
Dulcia skidded to a halt. She stood there for a moment, tapping her feet. When Kirin didn't respond, she tapped the taller woman on the shoulder. “Get out of my way, my daughter needs me.”
Kirin turned to Dulcia, a glare burning in her golden eyes. Magic rose up from her body, an invisible wall of Presence. It surrounded the three guild members standing between Dulcia and her cowering daughter. “Excuse me? Your daughter?”
“Yes, my daughter.” Dulcia pointed accusingly at Nir.
With a whimper, Nir jerked back behind Scorch. Her fingers dug into his arm as she shook her head. “No, no,” she whimpered, “don't make me go with her.”
Scorch patted her thigh comfortingly. Then, when that didn't work, he slid his hand up her thigh until she tensed. He pulled back and shifted his body so Nir could only see Dulcia over his shoulder through the haze of heat rising from his body.
Nir clutched to him tightly, her fingers white, and hid behind his body. The tears continued to roll down, splashing on his chest.
A pair of butterflies fluttered across the great hall to land on Elf's head.
Kirin's face showed no expression as she glanced over at Nir and then back to Dulcia. “You mean Nir?”
“Her name,” spat Dulcia, “is Natalie! Not that name you whores gave her!” Her voice rose up above the din and people looked up with confusion.
Nir's father looked around nervously. He was an older man with a sagging gut but a thick head of hair. Merrie had seen him a thousand time in Nir's nightmares, always looming over the girl as he forced her legs apart or her down to her knees.
Merrie pulled her lip back in a snarl. She wanted to do something after spending so many nights holding the young girl as she sobbed. But, Kirin glanced up at her before returning her attention to the offended woman in front of her.
“You mean,” she said in a low voice, “the girl you raped?”
Dulcia blanched. “I did no such thing!”
Kirin swirled the ever-present glass of wine. “Really?” The corner of her lip rose up. She gestured to the stone platform. As she did, her coat opened up to reveal her nearly naked body hidden underneath. “Willing to prove it?”
“W-What do you mean?” The anger faltered for just a moment, a brief flash of honest in Dulcia's face.
“There's a truth spell up on that platform. One lie and it lights up. So, just walk up there and repeat what you just said. Tell everyone that you didn't hold her down on the bed as your husband raped her.”
Dulcia glared at Kirin, her face growing purple with anger.
“You make that announcement,” Kirin's voice was low but her anger was evident even to Merrie, “in a whisper if you want, and you can have your little girl back.”
“I-I will do no—”
Kirin leaned forward. Merrie had to reach out with her senses, listening through Elf's ears to hear the whisper. “You don't deserve a wonderful daughter like Natalie. She is sweet and wonderful—”
“I know, she's my daught—"”
“She's in the Guild now. If you come for her, Dulcia Mirson, you better come with lawyers and guards. I don't take ultimatums and I don't do threats. If you come for her, you better bring everything you have, from magic to the gods above. Because,” she paused as Elf and Pristine shifted to stand behind her, “I won't hold back to defend my guild from people like you.”
“Y-You… bitch….”
“And I promise you this: there will be blood and violence. And then I will drag your beaten body up to that platform and make you tell the whole world what you and that pathetic man did. And you won't be whispering when I do it.”
Nir's father stepped back, his face pale. He shook his head before spinning on his heels and stumbling toward the door.
Kirin continued, her voice almost a hissing growl, “And that little moment of fame you want? That will come as you are chained to the wagon before being sent to Abbinkey.”
Dulcia's slap cracked the air. She held her arm up and a tremor coursed along her body.
Kirin didn't even flinch with the red mark on her cheek. With a smile, she rested her fingertips on her cheek. “Honey, you're going to have to hit a lot harder if you want to get a rise out of me. I've fucked a demon horse on a bet.”
“You bitch!” Dulcia reared back to strike again.
There was an explosion of air next to Kirin and Dulcia. The impact of it knocked over chairs and kicked up a cloud of dust. It raced along the hall. As the shock wave hit the pedestal, a shimmering wall of force speared up in a column of light. Almost instantly later, another shield appeared in front of the judge's table to protect the judges from the blast.
Merrie stood up, a spell rising in her mind in concern. From the shadows, Tamin stirred and stalked over in preparation to attack from the darkness.
When the dust cleared, there was a figure in full plate armor holding Dulcia's wrist with one gauntlet and a large-bladed spear in the other. The armor was steel etched to look like bark and colored dark green. Instead of the classic visor, it was a solid crystal plate with etching that resembled veins of a leaf. The armor had been shaped for a woman, with two rounded breasts and slightly wider hips.
Engraved on the chest was the symbol of Franome and on the forehead was the symbol of the Royal Army, the elite guards of the country and the most powerful combat mages known across the continent. Energy crackled along the armor and the power flickered in the green surface of her armor.
“Loyal Alestri says stop,” said the warrior with a crystalline voice. It carried out over the din, instantly silencing the room. Merrie felt waves of Presence radiating from the fighter, an inescapable demand to pay attention to her command. She shivered as she felt the lure of power drawing her. She wanted to obey the woman, even knowing it was a mind control spell that forced her.
Merrie had never seen a Loyal, one of the highest ranks of knights in the country. At the bottom ranks were the Trusts and Vigilant, like Fang and Tai. They numbered in the thousands, but the Loyals in the country could be counted with one hand.
Dulcia yanked at her hand, trying to pull it out from the green steel. “That woman stole my daughter!”
Kirin pointed to the platform. “Go on, get up there. Just one little phrase and you can have her back.” Unlike Dulcia, she kept her voice low. “I'm not stopping you, Dulcia.”
“I want her arrested!” screamed Dulcia as she yanked her hand back. “I'm demanding full charges for kidnapping and abuse!”
Behind Merrie, the door to the balcony creaked open. She tore her attention away from screaming and tightened the shade over her. Pressing her body against the wall, she looked over her shoulder.
“Why does all the royal places smell nasty?” muttered a younger man as he pushed open the door. “Has anyone cleaned this place?” He was in his mid-twenties, with a closely-cropped beard and bright blue eyes. He was dressed in a simple outfit of a embroidered button-down shirt and trousers. He was also wrapped in a field of Presence, but it felt different than anything Merrie had ever seen before. It didn't feel like magic but just a raw, almost physical, sense of leadership and entitlement.
“You'll get used to it, sire,” said a bored-sounded older man. The second man was dressed in a black suit just one step from being made of pure Shadow. His shoes shimmered even in the dim light and he had a black tie neatly pressed against the line of buttons. He reached out for the door and took the handle; Merrie noticed he wore black kidskin gloves.
She recognized the younger man. It was one of the princes of Franome, Claston Pador. He was third in line for the throne behind his two sisters, Dinneia and Pitia.
Her master and Rimmy were standing at the Claston's party along the wall where the candles left a flickering pool of shadows. Both watched the prince as he strolled through the crowds, flanked by two warriors in green plate armor.
Rimmy giggled and took a swig of her drink. “So, what did you steal?” Her voice was a bit slurred from too much alcohol.
“I got this,” her master said as he brandished a bottle of wine. "Let's see, it's a… Yurik Gold 778. That's expensive right?"
Rimmy's eyes narrowed and then she was holding it. "Damn, that's impressive. On the market, it's about three or four thou."
He grinned. “Beat that, bitch.” But his smile faded when Rimmy smiled broadly back.
“Really? Are you sure?” Rimmy licked her lips.
"What you'd steal? Come on."
"You're going to buy me something nice, right?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, if you win. And you're going to blow me when I beat you. But, come on. Show me."
With a flourish, Rimmy tossed him a piece of cloth. He caught it and looked at it, frowning for a moment as he tried to identify it. Flipping it cover, he caught the sewn flap on one side. "It… it's underwear."
"The prince's."
His hand shook for a moment. “How did you steal someone's underwear? That's not possible.” He glanced over at the prince, watching carefully.
Claston continued to stroll across the room, raising his glass and watching the people swirl around him in their elegant suits and dresses. But, between one step and the other, he discretely adjusted his crotch and lifted his leg. He frowned and groped his crotch again, then looked up with a blush.
Rimmy stepped closer. “I want something expensive and dark. Something I can take into the Shadows with us,” she kissed his ear, "Kine."
He shivered at his real name. She almost never used it, in fear someone was listened. Someone was always listening. His cock grew hard with his thoughts and the intimacy of her voice. “The…” He swallowed to continue talking, "The only thing that will go with us is shadow stone."
But, she had already faded into the darkness.
“If we never use this thing, why do we keep it?”
The older man closed the door behind him. “Tradition,” came the bored response. “We are also here because the Royal Family is the balance on the opposite side of the courts. Where they must follow the laws by the letter, the crown is the force that provides change when the letter no longer fits the crime.”
“Boz,” Claston said, “there were a lot of words in there and I didn't hear an answer I understood.” He stretched and Merrie noticed that while he wasn't heavily muscled, the prince was lean and graceful. He had scars on his hands from fencing and she could sense protective magic coursing through his body. His shields, when she probed, was like hitting a brick wall.
“If you feel that Mard Rakin's punishment is too weak or too extreme, you have the right to change it as you see fit.”
Claston stopped for a long moment, and then leaned against the carved wall. “Seriously? Doesn't that mean I can pardon anyone? Or have him executed?”
“Yes, sire. That is your right.”
“Then why do we have the law?”
“For when royalty doesn't intervene.”
He shook his head. “Why am I here then? Why isn't mum? I'm not even close to getting the crown. I can't handle this.”
“The Crowned Queen is currently occupied with more pressing matters.”
“You mean she's being eaten out by that army of servants that wear less clothes than my sisters. All those rug munchers in one room.”
Boz paused delicately. “It would not do to be so crude in public.”
Claston snorted and gestured to the empty balcony. “Public? No one is listening.”
“Given your new duties,” Boz pressed the door as if to make sure it was shut, “I highly recommend that you learn that your perceptions are not truth. There are always spies in the dark just as there are assassins around corners.”
Merrie squirmed for a moment. The Shadows were always listening.
The prince snorted again. “You make it sound like I'm important, Boz. I'm not. I have two, very competent, sisters who will take the crown long before me. I'm just the little brother.”
“Even the smallest nail can save the war.”
Claston moaned as he circled around one of the carved chairs. He sank down on it. “That's Geot, isn't it?”
“Very good, sire. You weren't sleeping during that lesson.”
Waving the dust from the air in front of his face, Claston thumped the cushion. Another cloud of dust rose up. “Maybe we should have them clean this place again.”
“I will have it ordered, sire. But it will have to happen after Rakin's trial. Otherwise it would be… rude.”
Claston leaned back, lifting his body enough to look over the back of the chair. “Then, grab me some wine? If I'm going to listen to Rakin's trial, I might as well be hammered.”
Merrie smirked.
“The bulk of the investigations are over. This will be less than an hour.”
“Make it two bottles. Something strong.”
Boz bowed. “Very well, sire. Be safe.” He turned and opened the door.
“Boz?”
The suited man stopped. “Yes, sire?”
“I don't have to say anything, right? Rakin can't ask me to, can he?”
Boz inclined his head as he stroked the side of the door. “It is his right to ask.”
“What do I say?” Claston sounded frightened for a moment, “I've never done this. Mum never showed me. What if I screw up?”
“You'll do fine. Just trust yourself, sire. There is a noble prince in there… somewhere.” Boz closed the door behind him.
Claston got up and thumped into the other cushion, coughing from the cloud of dust. “… there's a noble prince in me. Yeah, shut the fuck up.” He sighed and glanced around the room. “There's no one here, Boz.”
Merrie smirked as a thrill of watching rose up inside her. He couldn't see her and the rush left tingles coursing along her skin. She pressed her thighs together, feeling the heated moisture rising up from the sense of power. Her master did the same thing as he was growing up, stroking his cock as he watched the world passing by the shadows. Thousands of people unaware they were being watched.
She turned to peer back out the balcony. On the floor, Dulcia and the armored knight were not visible. The guild members were gathered around Nir, who sat on a chair with a pale face and tears streaming down her face. She was bent over her legs, holding her face. Her shoulders shook with her sobbing.
Scorch sat next to her, trying to hold her but he had a stricken look on his face. Merrie let her senses drift across his, not surprised by the rage and anger that boiled beneath his thoughts. He loved Nir with all his heart, but he couldn't say the words. And he hated that he couldn't stop her tears.
“Scorchy-poo, trust me.” Elf sat on the edge of Scorch's bed, his weight sinking the corner down as the large man batted playfully at the butterflies around him. His eyes were unfocused from the afterglow of submission and his hairy ass was red. "Just do it."
Scorch groaned and rubbed his eyes. He glanced over to the clock and then back to Elf. "It's two in the morning, Elf. Why is this important?"
Elf smiled and held up his fingers. A butterfly landed on it and began to glow red, casting the small room with a hellish glow. "Because she loves you. And, if you bothered to listen to your heart, you'd know it too."
As the words sunk in, Scorch felt very uncomfortable. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The larger man's eyes twinkled as he smiled at Scorch. "Yes, you do."
Scorch said nothing.
"Get her a ring and just ask. She won't say no. All of us know it, but that sweet girl needs you to ask."
"Can't you or Barrel just find me a good one? You're both good at the jewelry thing."
Elf stood up. A few butterflies flew off his shoulders and head and out the door. “It wouldn't mean as much if I did. Put your heart into it, Scorchy, and she'll set you on fire.” He patted Scorch on the thigh and gave him a strong squeeze. "Just remember that and you'll be fine."
At the door, Elf stopped. "She does like rubies though."
"I thought she liked red gold."
Elf giggled. "The two go together, you know. Fire and sweetness. You might need to get a few lessons from Barrel though. To avoid getting rolled. The boy knows a lot about these things. And he has a lot of marks that are jewelers. He'll send you in the right direction."
"Elf?"
"Yes, cutie?"
"Why do you care?"
Another smile and a butterfly fluttered out the door. "Because I love both of you."
Merrie smiled as the memories rolled through Scorch's head. She probed deeper and found that he had the ring in his pocket. It had been there for over a month. Every moment in silence, he agonized over proposing but he was afraid of the answer. It tore at him, but he struggled with his own fears.
Seeing Nir sobbing, Scorch wanted to do something. He knew that Kirin and the law wouldn't let him attack Dulcia. He wanted to burn her to the ground, to destroy her after what she did to her own daughter.
Merrie remembered her master as he fretted over the same decision. But, it was the shadow stone ring that he held in his hand instead of the golden ring in Scorch's pocket. She shifted slightly and her cloak plucked out the ring, holding the pitch black up for her to see. Every time she looked at it, she was swarmed with memories of that night. The ring was love and passion and death and horror. She smiled and kissed it before putting it back.
Turning her attention back, she watched as Scorch was torn watching his love sobbing in front of him. She knew the answer like she did for her own master. With a soft thought, she let it drift through his mind. (She won't say no.)
Scorch jerked. Blanching, he looked around sharply.
“Scorchy?” Elf whispered as he came closer. “Are you okay?”
“I-I'm…” Scorch was torn. He wanted to propose right then and there, to erase the horror of Nir's mother and to prove he was going to be there for Nir, for the rest of their lives. But, it wasn't romantic, it wasn't the perfect time. He looked up and noticed Kirin discretely watching him.
“Scorchy?”
Scorch looked at his friend helplessly. He toyed with the ring in his pocket, caressing over the ridges. It was set in the design of a flower that reminded him of one that Nir wore the first night they had dinner together.
Elf turned so his back was to Nir and leaned over to Scorch. He kissed Scorch's shoulder. There was a faint smile on his lips. “Just think of it as the first time you blew someone. Just, take a deep breath and swallow.”
Scorch glared at Elf who blew him a kiss. Taking a deep breath, he stepped away from Elf and up to Nir.
Nir lifted her eyes up to him, tears still running down her cheeks. “Why did she come back? I don't want to go home. She can't make me, can she?”
He fumbled with the words for a moment, his stomach twisting and knotting inside him. With tears in his own eyes, he pulled out the ring and knelt down in front of her.
Her mouth opened in shock as she stared.
“Y-You don't have to ever go back to her.”
Pristine let out a soft gasp and Elf began to cry loudly.
“Nir, my Nir, will you—”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Scorch blushed. “Um, could I finish?”
Nir was sobbing again, but there were tears in her eyes. “O-Okay.”
“Will you…” He had a thousand things he wanted to say, all of them more poetic when they were in his head. He couldn't say them. His throat was dry and his mind empty. With a groan, he said, “Fuck it. Marry me?”
“Y-Yes, of course,” she whispered as she threw herself into his arms. The ring fell out of Scorch's hands but Pristine caught it before it hit the ground. She flipped it over and discretely set it down on Nir's arms, not the girl noticed as she peppered Scorch's face with kisses.
The other members of the guild were smiling and Elf was bawling with happiness. He grabbed a butterfly fluttering around him and used it as a handkerchief before grabbing another.
Merrie smiled and felt sympathetic tears welling in her eyes.
“Fuck me,” said Claston only centimeters away from Merrie. He leaned over the railing as he stared. “Did someone just propose? In the Royal Court? Apparently the guy hasn't heard of romance. Maybe he's Rakin… no, he would be in chains. No…” his voice trailed off as he leaned on his elbows and peered over the railing. His bright blue eyes grew unfocused. A moment later, he snapped his fingers and he gasped. “Scorch!” He beamed to himself. “I remember now. That means that the girl is Natalie Mirson. No magic skills herself but she ran away from home a few years ago. And Rakin tried to kidnap her but she was rescued by… someone.” He chuckled. “Mum makes it look so easy.” He stood up with a broad smile. “Okay, so if that is Scorch and Nir, that would be… Pristine, a former royal guard.” His eyes came into sharp focus. “Fuck, I remember her. She used to be one of mum's. Damn, she's still hot.”
Merrie glanced up at the prince and back down. Nir was still kissing Scorch but the others were getting anxious to congratulate both of them. Merrie worried her lip for a moment and then send a brief thought toward both of them to remind them that others wanted to join in the celebration.
Nir jerked and looked up. “Oh, I'm sorry.” She pulled herself free and flung herself at Kirin. “Thank you!”
Scorch, face as red as his flames, stood up. And then yelped as Elf grabbed him in a bear hug and picked him off the ground. He tried to hug Elf back, but the large man was spinning him around and squealing.
“Lucky bastard,” muttered Claston, “at least he gets to choose who he loves. I'm betrothed to a woman who won't come of age for another year.” He turned toward Merrie as he headed for his chair, but then stopped.
Merrie felt a tingle of fear course along her skin, as if something was poised to attack her. She lifted her attention up to see Claston staring directly at her. With a gasp, she realized her shade had somehow dropped with her concentration on Scorch's internal struggle to propose. She yelped and drew the shadows around her, stepping across with a frantic burst of energy.
The shadow of Claston stumbled back, falling to the ground. She couldn't hear him but she could tell he was yelling out for help. His hand flailed around, protecting against an attack that never came.
There was an explosion of energy as the armored knight appeared in the room. The protective energies of the armor were visible even in the Shadows. It warped the darkness and peeled it back with a golden flame in the shape of the armor.
Merrie's heart thumped painfully in her ears as she watched the knight inspect the balcony. Energies flared around her as her visor glowed. And then the woman was looking into the Shadows. The visor was pure white and a beam of energy stretched out like a spear.
Terrified, Merrie ducked through the wall as the light swung toward her. It pierced the shadows and even cut through the walls and floor. Merrie threw herself underneath it and held her breath as it cut through the dark above her.
A moment later, the female knight's vision came swinging back but a meter higher. Merrie whimpered as she cowered against the shadows of another chair in the adjoining balcony. She clutched the side as she watched the magical vision spread out for a moment before fading away.
(Are you safe, Alpha?)
Merrie trembled as she stared at the wall. She couldn't see into the balcony with the prince, but her brush with the knight had knotted her stomach. She felt sick and wanted to throw up. (Y-Yes, but I need to move.)
Tamin sent an image of another balcony on the far side of the hall. (This appears to be abandoned.)
Glancing back, Merrie transformed into a hound and raced around the upper floor of the court hall, past dozens of doors leading to privacy balconies before she came up to the one Tamin pointed out. Stepping through the door, she looked around before letting out a long sigh of relief.
Tamin panted from the corner. (You smell like prey.) He was amused and his thoughts were tinged with lust.
Merrie crawled over and licked his face before returning to her human form. She settled down next to his form and let the Shadows fade away. The second balcony wasn't as comfortable as the first, but the hard floor felt safer than being near the prince.
She watched the knight and the prince as they spoke for a moment. Then the knight guided the prince out of the room. Merrie shook her head and leaned into Tamin. (That was close.) She giggled.
(I'll protect you.)
(I'd rather not find out what an Alpha and her shadow hound could do against one of the most powerful fighters in the country. Best to run away.)
(Why aren't you still running?)
Merrie looked down at the balcony. The seats were almost filled. Two of the judges, both older men, were already sitting. The third second, on the right, remained empty. Four guards, all in green armor, stood surrounding the pedestal. None of them were the royal guard, but they were still impressive-looking. (Because of Rakin.)
“Listen, Boz,” the prince's voice came drifting through the door and Merrie tensed, “I'm telling you, it wasn't an assassin. I mean, she was naked! And she was… on her hands and knees. No… she didn't have hands. I mean, I didn't see hands.”
“Loyal Alestri is quite insistent. We will quietly move, sire, and maybe not attract any attention. I have notified the seneschal of our new location, but he will keep secrets.” Their voices grew softer as they walked past the door.
Merrie let out a sigh of relief.
The door to a balcony two down opened and Claston shuffled in. With a mutter, he sank down on the chair. “At least these aren't dusty.”
“Your wine, sire. But, if you are seeing things, I recommend—”
“Thanks, Boz. Go away,” snapped Claston.
“Yes, sire.”
“Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything stupid.”
A moment later, the door squeaked as it opened. “Um, sire, you're about to have guests.”
“Guests? Who?”
“Baron Falon, loosely affiliated with Rakin's properties in the south and a well-known horse racer. And then many others.”
“Falon? What does he want?”
“I'm guessing to request you pardon Rakin.”
“Why? Why would he ask.”
“Influence and favors, the blood of politics. Mard Rakin still retains a great deal of power in this world and many are looking to choose sides. Being responsible for his safety would give some basis for Rakin owing Falon a favor.”
Claston swore under his breath. “Are there going to be a lot of these?”
“I suspect about thirty or forty of them in the next hour.”
“Is this why mum isn't here, right?”
“See? Already learning your new role. Don't worry, the Loyal is outside the door. If anyone gives you trouble or if you see any puppy girls—”
“She wasn't a puppy, Boz. I mean… what?”
“Sorry, sire. You mentioned a naked woman with dogs ears and a tail. There are some nobility that have an interest in that specific fetish. It is called pet play and there are a number of groups here in the city that find that… appealing.”
Claston chuckled. “Is that your thing?”
“No, sire, the only pleasure I get comes from serving the royal family's greatest son and prince of the realm.” And then the door shut with the finality of an ended discussion.
“Pervert,” said Claston with a laugh, “probably was jacking off when I was skinny dipping at age eight.”
Merrie smirked and her tail wagged back and forth. She didn't think she would like the prince, but he seemed to have a sense of humor. And she was surprised he knew who Pristine and Natalie where.
Less than a minute after Boz left, there was a knocking on the door for the prince. It creaked open a few seconds later and the baron introduced himself. Merrie rolled her eyes at the baron's language. It was flowery and thick, saying something in a thousand words where three would have done. She knew what he wanted, she could feel it in his thoughts, but it took him almost ten minutes to request the prince to pardon Rakin. The baron took another ten minutes to discretely offer the prince tens of thousand marks and “choice deals” with the baron's associates.
As soon as the baron left, there was another knock. Merrie's ear perked up as the next visitor came and did the same thing Baron Falon did. The words were different as were the request, to have Rakin executed but in hundreds of words. Promises of elegant parties for the prince were floated around him before the supplicant slipped away.
More men and women came. Some wanted to see Rakin back in power, others offered millions for Rakin to disappear forever. But, as unexpected was the blatant requests for Rakin's fate, it was the prince that surprised her. Claston, when in front of people, became a new person. His words were smooth and eloquent. He spoke with a grace that managed to say all the right words but somehow managed to agree to nothing.
(He could put the Shadows to shame,) projected Tamin, (he is impossible to pin down. There is more to him than a childish mind.)
(And a young body.)
(He would squeal if I mounted him,) came the playful response along with an image of Claston bent over the balcony with Tamin pounding his cock with a huge cock.
A bell rang out across the hall and Merrie held her breath. The three judges were in place, the final one being a female Sivlir silfae with long gray hair. Eight guards protected the pedestal and another eight for the judges. The room was packed, with people standing on the sides, but it was silent.
Rakin walked from the side door surrounded by two royal knights. He wore only a loin cloth, bare to the eye of justice as the tradition went. The half month since she had seen him had taken their toll on his frame. He was thin, almost skeletal, and his eyes were dark and inset. Bruises covered his skin and his ribs were visible underneath his stretched skin. His ruined arm shook violently in the adamantite manacles that bound his wrists together.
The silence in the hall was punctuated by the scuff of his bare feet. A storm of emotions rose up as people saw the formerly powerful count being lead to the pedestal. There was anger, rage, and pity. She felt disgust and glee swirling around as everyone was lost in their own opinions of the broken man.
He walked up the stairs for the platform and turned to the judges. With a deep breath, he stood up straight.
“Mard Rakin,” said the center judge, “you stand before us accused by an anonymous member of the Companion's Guide of Franome—”
Kirin stood up and put her hands behind her back.
“—proxied by Guild Master… Mistress Kirin. How do you plead to accusation of kidnapping by the proxy?”
Everyone held their breath as they stared at Rakin. Everyone knew he would refute the accusation. Almost all of the crimes were against an anonymous whore, no one of note in polite society.
Merrie tensed at the thoughts. She could feel the disgust and disbelief aimed toward her, despite that no one knew who she was. They saw Kirin as trying to destroy Rakin, but too cowardly to bring forth the person who Rakin supposedly kidnapped, raped, and tortured.
He stood straight on the pedestal and took a deep breath. Merrie could feel his thoughts as he struggled with fear, pride, and determination. Almost every emotion washed across his thoughts except one, anger. He closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them to stare at the judges. His body trembled as the words rose up.
“Guilty.”
The room exploded into surprise. People stood up shaking their hands, yelling at the top of their lungs. They were yelling at Rakin, the judges, and Kirin.
The lead judge stood up and held out his hands for silence. When that didn't work, he banged a stone block against a striking board. It ran out across the hall, magnified by illusionary magic, but still the noise didn't die down.
Merrie stared in shock at Rakin. It was the last thing she expected him to say.
An explosion of air caught her attention. It was the royal knight that almost caught Merrie. Before the air rippled away, she slammed her spear down on the ground and bellowed at the top of her lungs. “Loyal Alestri says SILENCE!” Her voice slammed into the room, cutting through the din, but it was powered by the strongest domination spell Merrie had ever seen. It exploded from the royal knight, freeing the throats of everyone as it exploded out from her. As one, those crying out sat down heavily in their chairs.
The spell slammed into Merrie and she was overwhelmed with the force of the command. Her body spasm from an intense orgasms and she struggled to keep the pleasure inside her. The words echoed endlessly in her head, freezing her throat as if she had been gagged. She couldn't whimper or even whine. Her throat refused to move with the command forcing obedience. She cried out silently as flames ran along her veins, searing her from tip to ankle.
The resulting silence was painful.
Rakin turned to the knight. “Thank you.”
Alestri turned and even though her face wasn't visible, Merrie could almost see the glare.
The lead just cleared his throat. “Mard Rakin, please repeat your response.”
“Guilty.” Rakin's fear spiked inside him, swirling around him as he contemplated his future.
“You are accused of torture by the proxy, how do you plea?”
“Guilty.”
Merrie shook as she listened to Rakin responding to guilty to every crime the judge brought up. She couldn't speak with the echoes of the domination spell ringing out in her head, but she didn't know what to do. She expected Rakin to scream and fight with tooth and nail. She remembered how he refused to give up at the fair when he tried to purchase her, the single-minded obsession that drove him to abandon his title and sanity in his quest for her.
The man standing on the pedestal wasn't Rakin, but she knew it was. His mind was clear of all anger and rage. She had broken him just as he broke her, but where she recovered in a few weeks, there was no healing the burned out husk in his head. He had been beaten.
She felt sadness for the man who haunted her. She was so terrified by him, but now he was the one without the power. There was nothing left in his life, no magic flowed through his veins and his mind was clear of the very nature that fueled his life.
Borias nodded. “They all did. We call them spit muffins and I be a cannibal. Me magic,” he held out his hand, “and me lusts are the same. I need their desire, I need them to want it. But,” he looked away toward his cooking area, "I also be needing them to die. And I be needing to cook and be eating them."
She shuddered at the thought. She could almost feel the same desire, a hunger to feel the knife against her throat. It was different than Grange. Borias would love her, touch her, make her cum, and then end it in one single—
Merrie looked away sharply, her tail snapping with her emotions. Tears burned in her eyes. Rakin's power came from anger, just as Borias came from cannibalism and she gained power from submission. But, she had taken away Rakin's magic just as a geas stole Borias'. Borias had a chance, though rare, that he would be pardon, but as she looked into Rakin's mind, she knew he would never feel magic on his fingertips again.
She wanted to cry out, to scream for him to stop. To beg him to rise up with anger, to fight with the last of his life. But, her throat refused to move. She couldn't make a sound with the domination spell still echoing in her mind.
The rest of the room quickly shed off the royal knight's command. After a few minutes, whispers started to rise up. Two balcony over, the steady stream of petitioners resumed. The bribes grew more extravagant and the requests more desperate. Rakin's acceptance had set off a wild fire among the powers that ruled the city with politics and relationships.
She watched Rakin standing on the pedestal, calmly agreeing to every crime he was accused of. She hated every word and flinched as he spoke.
When the judge finished with what he did to her, the judges brought up Natalie. The young girl was trembling with fear as she stood there, unable to look at Rakin and terrified that she was standing in the Royal Courts. But, just like the earlier accusations, the fallen count refused to deny anything. He just repeated the same word over and over again: guilty, guilty, guilty.
At the prince's balcony, there was another knock.
“Come on,” muttered Claston, “stop asking for favors. I don't need any more parties, money, or naked women!” He groaned and opened the door and his voice instantly turned to the flowered smoothness of his public persona. “Yes?”
“Excuse me,” Merrie froze as she heard Jacir, “sire, could I please have only a minute of your time.”
“Of course,” Claston's speech was back to the false joy that he used with the petitioners. “Come on in. You're Baron Pollium, right?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Claston chuckled. “Don't let Boz hear that. You're suppose to call me sire or highness.”
“S-Sorry, my sire.”
“Close enough. Come on in, you're shaking as hard as a leaf. I don't bite, you know.”
“I-I've never done this, but I… I have no choice.”
Merrie reached out with her mind. Fear and nervousness burned in his mind, along with flashes of Pris and Merrie acting as his fiancé. She calmed his thoughts, smoothing down the fear and letting him take a breath before he spoke.
Jacir calmed down almost instantly. He looked up at the prince and said, “I'm not a man of fancy words or of great means. But, if you have a chance, I would humbly… request, that if Rakin asks for pardon, you understand that he hurt a lot more than the people accusing him today. I would never insult the highness by asking for something specific, but I have no other recourse.”
Claston said nothing for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“He murdered my fiancé almost twenty years ago.”
“Murdered?”
“Yes, raped and tortured before he cut her throat.” Jacir fought back a sob. He struggled with the words. “B-But it was in Blood County and he was in his legal right. But, I love her with all my heart. And I made a promise to the old baron that I would do anything to… to… for her memory.”
“Hold on. I remember that in the books. Marcus Pollium willed his title to you, after his wife and daughter died. That was… about twelve years ago, wasn't it?”
Merrie got up. Moving with silence, she slipped into the Shadows and crossed the distance to the other balcony. Slipping down, she wrapped the shade spell tightly over her body and kept to the shadows of the carved railing.
Jacir sniffed and wiped his face. He was wearing his finest outfit. It was the same he wore to the day he was given the title and the memories burned brightly in his thoughts. “Patrica killed herself after we found out Pris had been killed. It was her idea to let this… evil man turn her into a puppy slave and then have me—”
Claston jerked as he sat up. “Puppy? You mean a puppy girl with a tail and ears?”
Blanching, Jacir nodded. “Y-Yes. And he cut off her arms and legs.”
Standing up sharply, Claston rushed over to Jacir, stopping only a few centimeters away. He grabbed Jacir's hands and held them tight. “Did she have white hair and a silver tail? With bright blue eyes? She's real!?”
Confused, Merrie looked up at her hair. She never realized but it was almost white, just like her tail. Something had bleached out the blonde until it was almost the purest white.
“No, that's Bitch.” Jacir blushed hotly and looked away. “She isn't Pris. Pris had brown hair and was… curvier. She died but we never recovered her body, but I swear she doesn't have silver hair..”
Merrie cringed at someone naming her. Even though it was just a title, it was another anchor, a pin that kept her shadows from shifting.
“Oh,” Claston stepped back with a frown on his face. He gestured across the court hall to his original balcony. “I thought I saw… someone in the shadows.”
Jacir's cheeks were red. “If you're talking about Bitch, she has a tendency to appear when you aren't looking. Even in locked rooms. She is very discrete—” He stopped in mid-word and clamped his mouth shut for a moment. “I'm sorry, sire.”
“Really? And her name is really Bitch?”
“I didn't mean to be so forward with his highness.”
Releasing Jacir, Claston stepped away. “Sorry, it's been a strange day. So, you're asking for…?”
Jacir clasped his hands together. “Just to think of my Pris if he asks.”
“I assume you're offering… you're a textile merchant. Clothes? A suit?”
“No, your highness, I wouldn't offer a bribe. That isn't my place and I'm not comfortable with fancy words. But, if you want something in return, I'll give you anything you want. My title as a baron if his highness wishes.”
With a gasp, Claston turned back. “You'd give up that? Why?”
“Marcus willed it to me in hopes that I would be able to do something for Pris. And to continue his line. If Rakin is appropriately punished, even if it isn't for my Pris, then I'm willing to put myself in the poor house. A title doesn't mean anything if you can't cherish your loved ones.”
The prince stared for a long moment. “No, I guess you can't.”
For a long moment, neither said anything. Then, Claston looked up and waved him away. “You can go now.”
Jacir bowed deeply, despair choking his thoughts. “I'm sorry for taking your time, sire. Thank… thank you.”
Merrie watched as Jacir stepped out of the room and closed the door. She followed, using the Shadows to pass through the door. On the other side, she watched as Jacir leaned against the wall and began to sob. The tears poured out from his fingers as he slid down the ground. “Pris, Pris… I tried, love. I really tried.”
Tears burned in her eyes as she crawled over to him. Spreading the shade over both of them, she nestled against him.
Jacir looked up with a sharp jerk, then sniffed. He gave her a sad smile. “I was just talking about you.”
Merrie smiled and bumped her head against his head.
He lifted his arm and pulled her close, pressing her naked breast against his thigh. “I tried, Pris. I really did, but what else can I do? I'm not rich like Falon or any of those guys. What can a merchant's son do?”
She stroked his thigh with one arm. Her tail curled around his back, following the line of his spine. She knew it gave him comfort, when she couldn't give him anything else.
“I-I think, after all this, I might need to hire you a few more times. Is that okay? I miss her so much right now.”
Panting silently, she lifted her head and brought her lips to his. Her body felt hot and slick as she kissed him. And, as she broke the kiss, she barked silently, her lips moving against his own. She still couldn't make a sound, not with the Loyal's command echoing in her mind.
Jacir smiled. “Thank you, Bitch.”
He held her for a few minutes, but then a bell rang out. The clear tones shook the hallways and rattled the doors. Jacir looked up and then struggled to his feet. “I better go, that means they are about to pass judgment on him.” He straightened his shirt and wiped the tears from his face. “Thank you.”
She smiled and wagged her tail. She wanted to bark, but she couldn't make a noise. The domination spell still held her throat in silence.
As soon as he turned away, she stepped back into the Shadows and dove through the wall. Coming out on her own balcony, she landed next to Tamin and peered down into the hall.
The court hall was silence except for a few coughs. Rakin stood on the pedestal, but everyone else was sitting down. The three judges were missing but their chairs were tilted as if they would come back in mere seconds.
Minutes passed and Merrie felt the tension in the hall. Even though Rakin didn't contest a single charge, there was always the possibility that the judges would give him a lighter sentence. She could hear the thoughts of most of the room waiting for the judges to forgive him due to some hidden deal that would never see the light of the day. Corrupted judges were a part of life in Franome City.
It was almost a half hour before the three judges came out. They stood in front of their seats. The lead judge spoke. “Mard Rakin, we have judged you guilty before the eyes of justice and the laws of this country.”
The crowds started to stir, but Loyal Alestri slammed her spear down and the room grew silent.
The judge continued, “You have not contested any of the accusations, is this correct?”
“No,” Rakin said, “I don't deny anything. I'm guilty of everything you brought before me.” His voice was broken and rough, but calm.
“Then we sentence you to death by hanging to take place no longer than noon—”
“Hold on!” Claston's voice carried out over the hall. People looked up in surprise, first to where he was suppose to sit and then turning until they saw the prince hanging over the railing. He pulled back and spoke over his shoulder. “Wait, Boz, I'm allow to stop it, right?”
“You already have, sire,” came the deadpanned response, “I recommend you continue forward before you really embarrass yourself.”
Claston turned and pointed to Rakin. “Why are you giving up?”
The whispers grew louder. Some were confused and others were impatient, but everyone was stunned that the prince had interrupted.
Rakin turned to face the prince, his chains rattling. “I'm sorry, your highness, but this is how it must be.”
“The Mard Rakin that people talk about in whispers and in legends is not on that pedestal.”
Rakin shrugged and gave a weak smile.
“Everyone knows about you. You've been a hero for three generations. In my classes, they made me study your strategy when you defended this country against the armies of Blood River, destroyed the Thrice-Fold Prince of Storms, and even destroyed the Lich-Queen from Belife.”
“That was my first wife, sire.”
“Yes, but you still destroyed her. There is six songs written about that alone. I had one of those at my sixteenth birthday.”
Rakin shrugged again.
Claston leaned further over and pointed again. “So, why is the infamous Mard Rakin rolling over without a fight?”
Bowing his head, Rakin spoke clearly. “Because she won.”
“Who?”
“Her name isn't important. And I will honor her attempts to stay in the shadows.”
Merrie flinched again. She was afraid someone would call out her name after being singled out as Rakin did. She closed her eyes, afraid to hear the words that came next.
Claston shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Rakin lifted his eyes. There was no anger in his gaze as he stared up at the prince. “It takes a strong man to break his opponents, but it takes a broken one to lose. In the three centuries that I've been walking this country, I have destroyed more lives than you have ever known. I took great pride in not killing them, but ruining them to the point their shattered morals and minds could no longer recover.”
“T-That,” said the prince, “isn't exactly something to be proud of.”
“But, you sang of me, didn't you? When the Warlord was destroyed, people cheered me as I led an army into Blood River and killed every single living silfae in those woods. When the assassins attempted to kill your own father, they made songs of my efforts to hunt down every living relative of those two men and kill them.”
Claston, and many people in the hall, looked uncomfortable.
“Your highness, my obsession is what made me a legend. But, even with Emberka poised to wage war on our country, there are no more battles for me to fight. So, I found other obsessions to keep me up at night. For sixteen years, it was a bitch owned by a man who pretends to be evil. I bought her, like a common dog, but she ran away. She ran back to him.”
As Merrie listened to his speech, she was haunted not by his words but the dispassionate tone, the calmness that he addressed a man capable of killing him with a flick of his finger.
“I won that fight. I brought an army and broke him. But, I didn't kill the thief. He was a man who gained power with promises, so I broke his oaths. He promised not to let blood spill on the ground, I spilled his. I promised to protect the women he had turned into slaves and dogs. I broke that promise.”
“How?” asked Claston.
Rakin flinched but continued. “I tortured them so he could hear their screams. I raped them until he begged for me to stop. I pressed their broken, bleeding bodies against his chest and cut their throats so he would be stained by their blood. I broke that man until he begged for death. I heard him pray to a goddess who abandoned him and laughed when no answer came.”
Merrie glanced through the railing at Claston. The prince was pale and clutching the railing with white knuckles. She shivered at the images that came welling up from Rakin's mind, of the very things he did to Bass so many years ago.
“You killed women.”
“They were bitches. Kidnapped and broken, nothing more than animals.”
“You mean like Pris Pollium?”
Below the balcony, a sob rose up from the seats. Merrie peered down to see Jacir crying into his hands. People next to him were staring at him with shock and confusion, but he didn't care. He peeked up at the prince, tears pouring down, and fought to quiet himself.
Rakin frowned and shook his head. “I don't know—”
Merrie reached out for Rakin, pouring in every memory of Jacir had of Pris into his head.
The former count jerked and then sighed. (I knew you were here, Merrie.) To the prince, he nodded. “Yes, even Pris Pollium. I remember killing her.”
A gasp of shock rippled through the court until Loyal Alestri struck her spear again.
Cringing, Merrie pressed herself against Tamin. Rakin's words echoed in her head for a moment, devoid of any anger or hatred. It echoed in her mind, intimate and close. There were no shields between them anymore.
“So why aren't you fighting back?”
“Because, I lost. I thought I would break her like all of my other opponents, destroy everything in her life. That girl,” he pointed to Nir who cringed, “that man, and that one, and that one,” he pointed to Scorch, Elf, and then Kirin. “I was going to kill them to get to her, to break her. I was going to take Natalie with me to break in front of her because she would do anything to save the teenager.”
Nir whimpered and shook her head. Her lips moved silently as she sobbed.
Scorch's face was a mask of rage and the heat rose around him.
Moving gracefully, Kirin rested a hand on his shoulder and shook her head.
Rakin continued without faltering, “She was nothing more than a bitch, the Bitch when you think about it. She should have been helpless. She should have obeyed every command I gave her, I knew what I was doing. I had the spells, I had the defenses, I knew her more than she knew herself. There was no way she could have resisted. But,” Rakin sighed and looked a century old for a moment, “she found a strength where others would have broke.”
He looked down and swallowed hard. “She defeated me. You see, your highness, there is nothing you can do to me that she hasn't done already. Kill me? I'm already dead inside. Torture? For three days she raped me as I raped her. The healers couldn't save my manhood and I will never fuck again. Even if I could get it hard, it would be agony. I have no anger left, I have no hatred. There is nothing inside left to keep living, but I can't even kill myself because I know she won't let me. In the end, I have nothing to fear because she has done what I have done to a thousand others.”
“You fear nothing from me?”
Rakin shook his head. “No, but I think it is fitting that my life be destroyed when I lose. Just as I destroyed the lives I defeated, I insist that she do the same to me. But, she would never do it herself, so I took it upon myself to finish the job.” (Merrie.)
Merrie tensed at his voice. (What?)
(You have no reason to trust me, but I promise what I say is true. I owe you something, the prize for the victor.)
He held the adamantite collar in his fingers, anxious for the day he would clip it around Merrie's throat and make her his Alpha forever. Soon she would be his. He set it down on the velvet and closed the box. Setting it into a safe hidden behind a set of cages, he whispered the words to seal it shut.
(The magic in that collar is keyed to you and only you. It will not work for anyone else and it never will. But, if you put it on, you will be bonded to the owner of the collar. Take it. Take it and destroy it. Or find a good master, one who loves you, and have them put it on. But find a real master, someone who will teach you the whip and submission instead of pissing you away on the occasional fuck and leaving you caged in a mansion.)
Merrie's tail pressed against her thigh. During Rakin's rape, the memory of the collar haunted her. It drove her to stop him, but now he was offering it to her. She tensed as she projected back, (Why? This is a trap, isn't it?)
(Take it to your guild. Send it to be investigated and identified. You'll see what I'm staying is true. That collar can bond you again, as close as the mortal magic can reforge a broken bond between an Alpha and her master.)
(Why? Why are you doing this?)
Rakin turned to look at her, seeing her not through his eyes but through the connection they shared. (We must end. I cannot have my life tied to you because I will drag you down into my hell. Today, I will either be executed or sent to Abbinkey. If I live, I will have no more power and no magic. But, if I still possess that collar, it will give me focus. It may take me years to recover, but if I have it, I can not let you go. I know this.)
She whimpered silently and huddled against Tamin, who growled as he felt her fear.
(Take it, Merrie. Steal it. Destroy it. I don't care what you do, but do not let me keep it.)
He knelt on the ritual circle, holding the adamantite collar. He needed a trigger for the spell, something that would bind their minds together forever. He smiled as he looked down at his hands. “Blood,” he whispered, "I'm going to make her bleed for this."
(The sealing spell is triggered by a master's blood. Any blood, but choose careful. You have a limited chance to choose your bond. The control over your heart and soul can be stolen by precious blood. The closer the cut is to the heart, the tighter the bond.)
Merrie's breath came faster. She felt a craving for the closeness she felt for her master. The magic he offered her was promising but it terrified her to.
(You killed me, Merrie, my body just hasn't figured it out yet.)
She saw the pain in his eyes, the despair and ache. It was the same look in Borias' eyes when he talked about not being able to access his magic, to not see a loving death. She had taken Rakin's power away from him when she destroy his anger. He was a shell of a man, but she felt no joy at the emptiness inside him.
Rakin pictured the spells used to release the safe. And then he returned his attention to the prince. “Do what you will. I will accept any punishment.”
Claston cleared his throat and glanced toward the balcony where Merrie laid on the floor and Rakin was watching. He addressed Rakin. “Then, since you killed Pris, I'm—”
The other male judge stood up. “Excuse me, your highness? This trial is not for Pris Pollium. That cannot be admitted as proof of guilt.”
Merrie glanced at Jacir who was staring at the prince, the tears glistening on his pale face.
Claston rolled his eyes. “He just said he killed her.”
“That is not the law. He cannot be judged on crimes—”
“Fine,” growled Claston, “for the kidnapping, rape, and torture of Bitch—”
Both Rakin and Merrie jerked at the name. Down below, the members of the Whore's Guild looked at Kirin with pale looks themselves.
Merrie gulped and stared at him, trying to remember who told him her name and associated her with the Rakin's torture.
“—I sentence you to one thousand years in Abbinkey Prison, to remain with your magic sealed away forever. And I,” Claston addressed the judge in a sharp tone, “can sentence him for that, can't I? That's the crime he's being accused of, isn't it?”
The judge bowed. “Yes, your highness. That is your right.”
“Then,” Claston said as he leaned back, “I'd suggest the gods have mercy on your soul, but you don't have one.”
“No, your highness, not anymore.”
Merrie sat up, her breasts rising and falling with her silent pants. Everything spun around her as she stared down at Rakin.
He turned and looked at her. “Goodbye.” His lips finished the last words silently, “You're a good girl, Merrie.”
Her body tensed as an orgasm ran through her, the forbidden name echoing in her head. She replayed it and shivered again, her breath catching in her throat.
And then hidden runes on the pedestal flared bright. They were sick and twisted curls of power as they rose up to surround Rakin. She could feel his pain as he struggled to remain standing. She couldn't look at the spell, it was foul and nasty. She knew what it was, a geas, but it was like no spell she had seen before.
The telepathic connection between them snapped and she was throw back. A backlash seared along her, but Tamin took her pain with a soft whimper.
Rakin tensed as runes crawled up his legs, burning their way into his skin and leaving charred trails. They continued to burn their way until they covered every centimeter of his flesh.
Somewhere, the judges were declaring the conditions of the geas, but it didn't matter. Rakin would never survive to receive a pardon. He would spend the last of his days in Abbinkey, locked away to never see freedom again.
The magic exploded into light and Rakin finally screamed as the runes were burned into his flesh, sinking down through aching muscles to etch themselves against his bones. His voice cracked as the shrill sound echoed against the walls.
And then the light faded and Rakin collapsed to the ground, a husk of a man who would never haunt Merrie's dreams again.