Page 60 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

Instead of a saddle, a large wicker basket is strapped firmly to the beast, anchored by thick iron rings that pierce two of the horned protrusions dividing its back in a serrated line. I look about for a ladder, then realize my foolishness. Of course there is no ladder. The king can fly.

“Shall we?” Arcus asks me, and without waiting for an answer, scoops me into his arms and takes to the sky. I am no stranger to flying; my mother took me up above the trees to survey the whole of our manor when I was a child. I loved flying, then. When I came of age and it became apparent to me that I wouldn’t sprout wings of my own, it became torture, and I refused to fly again.

My heart aches at those refusals. What I wouldn’t give to be in my mother’s arms, experiencing the exhilaration of not only flight, but her unconditional and all-consuming love for me.

No one will ever love me in that way again.

Arcus lands us in the basket, the walls of which are tall enough that we won’t be swept out. They’re lined with black velvet, and mounds of cushions surround a picnic laid out on fine red brocade.

I’m more concerned with those rings pierced through the dragon’s flesh. “Oh, dragon. Doesn’t that hurt you?”

The beast turns its head back on its long neck, bringing me disturbingly close to one giant, yellow eye, and its mouth full of impossibly long teeth. “Such tender care. I didn’t believe I would meet a human today. You’re much kinder than our stories would suggest.”

I feel its voice through my feet.

The dragon goes on. “No. The rings don’t hurt me. There is no feeling in these plates.”

“Like fingernails.” I hold up my hand to show it.

“I suppose.” The dragon squints with great interest. “I’ve never seen a human this close before. Well, unless I was eating them. But to be truthful, I haven’t bothered to take stock of their anatomy, as they’re usually cooked by then.”

“You’re scaring her,” Arcus scolds the beast, though nothing in my manner suggests fear. In truth, I feel much safer with the man-eating dragon than the sadistic king behind me. He arranges some cushions to lounge upon and pats the spot beside him. “Come. Sit with me.”

I fix my most pleasing smile upon my face and go to him, sinking down on the cushions. He pulls me to his side and sighs with contentment. He calls out, “We’re ready.”

The whole of the basket lurches with the movement of the dragon as it stretches its back and, with a mighty, deafening woosh of its wings, takes to the sky. The wind passes over our heads, broken by the shelter of the tightly woven walls around us. I consider my reaction and decide to throw myself fearfully across Arcus’s chest, clinging to him and trembling.

He chuckles at my feigned fright. “Cenere, my sweet. I would never allow harm to come to you.” He pauses. “At least, nothing I couldn’t undo.”

“Your Majesty is so thoughtful.” I sit up as if suddenly realizing my behavior and begin to apologize profusely. “Oh, Your Majesty! I am so sorry. I should never have put my hands—”

He takes one of the named parts and guides it to his cock. “You may touch me however you like, Cenere.”

I blush and dip my head. “I’ve never spent so much time in the company of royalty.”

“I have never spent so much time in the company of a contradiction. One moment, you’re shy and respectful. The next, seductive, and hungry to be used.” His voice is full of wonder. “You are a delightful puzzle to me.”

He leans forward and finds a crystal bowl of succulent red syrup berries, selects one, and says, “Open your mouth.”

I obey, and he squeezes the berry. Its skin splits and the center, like liquid ruby, falls onto my tongue.

He groans. “I would fill your mouth in other ways, Cenere.”

I swallow and whimper, “Oh, yes, please.”

“When we’ve reached our destination,” he says, and pops the berry into my mouth. It’s delicious, and tastes of violet petals. “Right now, I’d like to talk.”

Between bites of fruit and cheese that he feeds me, he questions me. Where am I from? How did I meet Luthian? What about the Court of Pleasure and Torment draws me, and how do I enjoy it so fully, when humans are known to be reserved and proper?

The first two, I answer exactly as I practiced with Luthian. The third, however, is not one I’ve thought of, and it takes me longer to answer.

“I suppose,” I begin hesitantly, “my interest was simply due to my husband’s desire to return. In truth, I dreaded it, a bit. He took time to teach me what to expect, though, and his talent as a lover and a guide drew out something in me that I didn’t know was there.”

My answer, it seems, is not the correct one. Arcus’s expression goes dark. He looks away from me and responds petulantly, “Oh, yes. I have heard rumors of Luthian’s prowess.”

“All exaggerated,” I quickly assure him. “Once I arrived here at court and sampled the delights to be had with you, Your Majesty, I gained more...perspective.”

There is a strange, mean thrill that comes with denying Luthian’s talents. It’s all a lie, but one that I hope would hurt him if he overheard, the way he has hurt me with his callous behavior and betrayal.

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