Page 4 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

“My, but you are like your mother, aren’t you?” He holds my gaze for a long, silent moment, then rises and paces back to the window. “I know of a way that you could keep your wishes until you truly need them.”

“And I know that a faery would never make such a deal without a reason.” My mother taught me well. She was teasing, of course, when she would hold a daisy out to my chubby, child’s hand and croon, “Come and give me a kiss for it.” There were other lessons, later, but those first games laid a foundation for my distrust of her kind.

“My mother taught me that no deal with her kind comes without a price.”

Luthian doesn’t deny it. “Smart. But ultimately, not something you need worry about with this deal. I will still owe you two wishes when our venture is complete. But you’re right; I’m not doing this out of sentimentality or altruism. I stand to gain quite a lot if you agree to my proposal. But so do you.”

The way he stares into my eyes, as if he can push my acquiescence from some precipice and into the pit of his desires, unsettles me. I hear a voice quite like my mother’s, urging me to reject him, to leave Faeryland and never be tempted back.

But I’m too curious. That’s her fault, too. “What do you stand to gain?”

Perhaps it’s a fae trick, but when he turns back to me, there is an earnestness in his expression that wasn’t there before. “I have fallen out of favor with my court. I plan to use you to get back into favor.”

“Be more specific.” For all I know, he could plan to present me trussed and roasted at a banquet with an apple in my mouth. He would still owe me the wishes.

“The king has two sons. I loathe the eldest, but the second is a dear friend of mine. He will be my ticket to return to the heights I commanded previous to the… indiscretion that resulted in my banishment.”

His hesitation sparks my curiosity. “And what indiscretion did you commit?”

He thinks for a moment. “The same indiscretion that resulted in the queen losing her head.”

I’m unfamiliar with the faery courts and their kings and queens, but it isn’t difficult to infer his meaning. “What have I to offer this prince?”

“What don’t you have to offer him?” Luthian approaches me again. “Have you no looking glasses in your home? Have you never seen your smooth, milky skin? Your copper-kissed hair? Have you never noticed the stares when you pass people in the village?”

“So, I’m to seduce him?” I cut directly to the point; Mother also warned me about flattery. “I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t the skill for it.”

“Does a sculptor choose stone that’s already been chiseled into perfection? Or does he find the raw material that will help him accomplish his artistic vision?” Luthian counters.

“I’m to be your raw material? A stone you can sculpt into the perfect seductress, capable of altering the destiny of a kingdom?” I laugh, but it dies it in my throat when he doesn’t laugh with me.

“That is exactly what I’m proposing.” He offers me his hand. The goblet in mine vanishes. I slip my fingers into his and he draws me close, close, closer, until I feel the warmth of his skin through our clothes. “But you cannot be stone. If you accept what I’m offering, you must yield to me. Completely. Every request. Every command. You will acquiesce to me in all things and deny me nothing.”

“You still haven’t said, plainly, what you’re proposing.” I hope he doesn’t think I haven’t noticed.

“I want Prince Cassan to be king. He will be when all of my plans fall into place. And you will rule at his side, as his queen. And with that power—”

He doesn’t need to finish. I know exactly what I will do with such power. “I can crush Cadwyn Thrace.”

I can make him far more miserable as his queen than any one wish ever could. I am not inventively cruel enough to think of a wish that could inflict a satisfactory amount of pain upon him, but given time to slowly torture him, keep him alive, heal him and then break him over and over until my pain is satisfied…

The thought is delicious enough to make me shiver.

“And you’ll still have your wishes. Should you need them.” Luthian strokes the backs of his fingers down my throat. “All you must do is surrender to me, totally. Give me all of your trust, swear you will do exactly as I say, no matter the request, and most importantly, you must drop every inhibition in pursuit of this power. Can you do that?”

I imagine Cadwyn Thrace on his knees in chains. It’s almost pleasurable enough to make me swoon.

Still, “That’s an awful lot to ask. You’re basically asking me to give up my free will.”

“It’s exactly what I’m asking,” he agrees. “Until the crown is placed upon your head, you will be entirely mine to command.”

I hold his stare for a long moment, the only sound the silver fire crackling in the hearth.

“Nothing without a price,” he whispers, in a voice that could turn sunlight to ice. And he extends one graceful hand, waiting for me to clasp it in agreement.

A crown can’t coax winter blossoms from beneath the snow or a heal a wounded sap-sparrow’s wing. I’m not meant for that type of power. But I can see myself in a crown, see Thrace’s blood running over my hands.

But I wonder, “I’m human. Why would Cassan deign to speak to me, let alone make me his queen?”

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