Story & Art : Kumiko d'Primato
Editor: Kenji Sato
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Not these two again, I mused. The same carriage, the same men.
My pale face in the windowpane looked past the glass, down at the two figures exiting their carriage.
First, my husband, a well-dressed duke, tailored to hide his cruelty. His gaze met mine from a distance; I abhorred him.
Second was his knight, tall, brutally handsome, and ready to follow his command. He would sever a man's throat with the same obedience he showed in my bed.
Never had I imagined that anyone would save me.
After my parents were gone—a carriage accident, they said, but I doubted it—the manor had become a place for their amusement.
I was twenty when I got married, and all the cunning I had to resist the duke and his knight had been exhausted. Things became too lively when the two men entered the drawing room. They had the keys.
The heavy door groaned open, and their footsteps grated on the marble floor; I knew their routine.
They would toss their jackets on the worn seats, ignoring the cold tea I'd left out—thus poisoning them was futile.
My manor had nothing special—old furniture and older pale wallpaper. The duke had said he would refurnish them all, which I had believed at first. But after their visits solely for pleasure, I realized that I was nothing but a flower in their private brothel.
As a fallen baroness, I had nothing but my title and my body. The duke said they were pretty, but that wasn't enough for him. It all began from our first night; he decided his knight might partake in our time together.
My only confidant was Zanad, my devoted butler.
But what could he do?
Zanad was a survivor from a purge himself, a boyish Drakhenari, lean and lanky, with dark hair covering his temples. Twenty-four years old in human age. He was charming in a haunted, bashful way, but he was powerless against the duke, who had purged his race.
Zanad had arrived at my manor reeking of fish, his palm marked with a glyph, a living dowry from the duke. And Zanad was just that, a butler, unless I could awaken his dormant curse. His kind has the power to swap bodies with someone else.
Perfect, I'd let him have the duke's face.
I'd been reading any banned book I could find; it was written that Drakhenari growth could only be triggered by their emotions. Rage and lust.
Yes, that's my only way out.
Until then, Zanad could only watch.
—thump, thump, thump—Their steps ascended the stairs, marching toward my bedroom, and the door swung open. The duke first, then the knight, his eyes lowered, lingering in the doorway, then the lock's click.
"Good evening, my dear. I've missed you," the duke would say, or something along those lines.
It didn't matter anymore; what he said was better forgotten.
"Your Grace," I replied, halfheartedly.
"Still in that black dress? Can't wait to be a widow, my dear?"
I smiled at him. "I'd have a grand funeral, much better than our wedding."
He chuckled and leaned close, so close I could smell his perfume.
So invasive.
He gazed on me with that insufferable look; I felt the thrill of his power. Because I knew Zanad had moved behind the keyhole.
But then the duke followed my gaze.
I had the feeling; had he also wanted to awaken Zanad's curse?
Why? Is he coveting the throne?
The duke's name was Alexander... something. I forgot, as it was a dreadfully long, endless string of names I didn't bother to remember. He was a cousin of the crown prince from the queen's side.
To me, he was Alexander the Dead.
He would sit on the printed flower sofa that didn't suit him at all. His legs crossed, he was fair-haired and well dressed; his aristocratic persona had good manners, but we both knew the truth— the duke was useless without his knight, limping like a bloom's stalk without water.
He gestured. "What are you waiting for?"
His knight moved toward me, fingers undoing the clasps on his tunic. He didn't hesitate anymore.
I turned to the window, up to the darkening sky. I supposed that if I wanted to jump, I'd have to break the glass first, which I deemed impossible.
"My lady," the knight said, "I couldn't forget about you..."
"Perhaps, you should."
"You may not believe me, but I have never had anyone else."
"Oh, you seem pretty close with your master? I'm jealous."
"Forgive me." He loosened his cuffs.
I watched the knight closing in; his reflection joined mine in the glass.
His grip moved up to my arms. It was obvious that he made an effort to present his best self. From the strong tonic smell to his smooth chin pressing against my nape, I gasped.
I didn't mind him being my first, as he had been gentle in his touch. His hands settled at my sides, more than propriety allowed.
What's propriety anymore, I wondered, as this wasn't our first encounter.
What is his name? I do not know. Nor do I wish to know.
But I remembered his voice. Counting how many times he groaned in one night had become a grim little hobby of mine. And like those nights, he'd approached me gently like a lover. His calloused hands, rough from gripping the hilt of a sword, held me.
He kissed my neck.
Ah.
I turned my gaze to the keyhole.
I was not alone, as Zanad was there. His movements were subtle along the door gaps; I could taste his guilt. Many times he watched us, yet I have not found the chance to corner him. Because the more he watched, the more guilt he'd have, and the more agreeable he'd be to becoming my accomplice.
Good, take all the view in, and remember me even in your dreams... Then give me your curse... All of it.
Humans disappointed me, too... I'd rather take the enemy's hand.
My musing got interrupted by the knight's kisses going up from my neck; his mouth claimed mine. His rough, insistent tongue tasted of tobacco and mint.
The duke had stopped being a mere witness and joined in. They undressed me, pulled the fabrics down my shoulders, spine, and hips, then untangled the laces of my corsets. They exposed me to the chill, bare for all to see.
The knight tore the rest of my dress away but left my lingerie, a particular preference of his. "The color looks lovely on your skin," he leaned down, muttering, his hot breath against my ear, as he unbuckled his own.
He guided me to bed, climbed after me, his shirt half-loose, his boots gone in the heaps. He laid me down, my back pressed against the starched sheets.
The duke laughed as I tried to cover myself. He gripped my waist, and made me a mistress.
The knight claimed my mouth, licking my lips, and I swallowed his tongue. I had to act this way in front of the duke. Only by watching me with another man would the duke get aroused.
I got used to blocking the experience by remembering mundane things, or about the details of my land, Aurelienne. But over time, I began to plot their demise. I craved revenge. I'd endured such humiliation, and I needed a hand for my plan.
Patience, I told myself.
After some time, the duke stumbled back to the sofa, wiping his temple and scuffing his forelock aside. He leaned back, knees parted. "Go on. Do continue, as you please."
The knight wiped my face with a corner of the sheet, gentle with his touch. He stroked my eyes, drying me from tears, as my body languished over the damp fabric.
Between the sheets, I heard the knight striding to the side stand, then water being poured into the glass. It was the only beverage without poison, because I knew I'd need it.
The knight drank his, poured another, and passed it to me. I drank mine. Almost choking to quench my thirst, I finished it and gave it back.
But when our gazes met, his lust reignited. He sat up, pulling my limping arm, positioning me onto his lap.
The duke pulled a chair, and sat in front of us.
Who would've believed they were the kingdom's heroes?
"I'll make you happy," the knight said, his forearm steadied our rhythm.
I nestled my head on the crook of his neck as I couldn't face the duke's leering gaze.
Happy. I sneered.
Of course, all their sweet words were lies, but I'd make them believe their own lies—they'd believe that they made me happy. In truth, I'd be the happiest when the two of them would draw their swords at each other's necks.
Ah, I can only dream.
The duke joined in when he could no longer stay as a mere spectator.
"Krath'venar," the duke groaned in the midst of his passion.
Confused, I gazed at the knight by my side. What does that even mean?
The knight only squinted his eyes as an answer and continued to claim my lips. As the two men bedded me, I gasped, my thoughts focused on Zanad at the keyhole.
Is he watching my every move with hunger or pity?
The duke stopped moving. He brushed my cheek, pinching the sweat-slicked skin. "Close your eyes."
"No." I knew it was that time of play.
I wouldn't comply, but he ripped my bed's four-poster draperies and shredded a good length of the fabric and tied it firmly across my face. Darkness swallowed the chamber.
"You will feel more," the duke growled, "Trust me."
Let them finish soon. I bit my lips.
But neither rushed; the duke nibbled my earlobe, as he muttered, "You should enjoy it, too. Zanad's still watching us."
I couldn't peek through the fabric that pressed my eyelids tight.
Why had I endured such humiliation for weeks? I didn't know anymore.
At first, it was to protect Zanad. And now? I only wished that he watched me. I needed his true form to be awakened.
Zanad... I can't anymore.
Their movements stretched my submission, slow, slow, slow.
Only when they were slick and spent, did they unbuckle the straps. I gasped. The blindfold slipped. The door remained closed.
I peeked through my tangled hair; Zanad had not left.
The dusk arrived, and so did the deed.
The knight wiped my face from sweat; he was gentle with his touch, while the duke used the chamber first and dressed. We stayed in bed, and the knight showered me with kisses, mostly on my neck, as it was clean.
"What does Krath'venar mean? The duke speaks Drakhenari?" I asked him. My eyelids were made of stones, but I needed him for my plan.
"Can't say." The knight looked up past me. "So many deaths; I guess that messed up his head and his lower part."
"Oh." I traced his smooth chin. "Is it true you are the strongest?"
"What do you think?" He smiled.
"If you dueled the duke, who would win?"
"Can't say."
"So you'll never raise your sword against your master? Ever."
"No." He looked away.
"You can't, or you won't?"
"I can't. He'd just replace me with someone else."
"Hmm, it doesn't have to be by sword."
Our gazes met.
I added, "Carriages are unreliable; surely accidents happen all the time?"
I blinked at him; he lowered his gaze, and I chased him.
"Then I'd be a young widow... A lonely one..." I traced his chest down.
"The duke said it's easy to replace me; he also said other knights might be unclean."
"The duke said this, the duke said that." I turned around and pretended to sleep.
It seemed that the duke had already brainwashed him... pity.
"Forgive me, but I don't want to lose you."
The knight held me tighter, but his kisses on my nape were empty... such a useless sword.
I mused. Never had I imagined that any man could save me.
What's left? ...Only myself and a Drakhenari.
Zanad.
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