Page 3 of Kingmakers, Year Two

I looked in his face. I saw no guilt or pity there. Just blankness.

Except for the tiny upward curl of his lips.

Those little black specks on his irises reminded me of mold. Like there was something rancid in him, rotting him away from the inside.

“You’re horrid,” I said, dropping the bird and wiping my palms atavistically on the sides of my dress.

Then Rocco did smile, showing even white teeth.

“We’re just getting to know one another.”

Rocco has not improved on further acquaintance. Every time I see him, I loathe him more.

Tonight I’ll be expected to dance with him, to hang on his arm, to gaze at him as if we’re in love. It’s all a performance for the guests.

He doesn’t love me any more than I do him.

The only thing he likes about me is how much I despise him. That he enjoys very much.

That’s the man for whom Daniela demands that I wax my pussy.

I stare at her with deep distrust, wondering what she knows that I don’t. Why does she think it’s important that I be perfectly smooth from the chin down? What does she expect to happen?

“I’m not doing it,” I tell her. “He’s not touching me tonight.”

Daniela tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowed.

She’s quite beautiful, I’d never deny that. She has the austere look of a saint in a painting. Like a saint, she worships a cruel and vengeful god: my father.

“You’d better learn to please him,” she says quietly. “It will be so much harder on you if you fight. The things a man can do to his wife when she’s trapped with him, all alone in a big house like this, with only his soldiers around. . .”

She blinks slowly in a way that has always reminded me of a reptile.

“You should learn how to flatter him. How to assist him. How to serve him with your body . . .”

“I’d rather die,” I tell her flatly.

She laughs softly.

“Oh, you’llwishyou were dead . . .”

She nods to her team of estheticians. With something approaching force, they push me down on the chaise, pry my legs apart, and spread hot wax over the entirety of my pussy, all the way up to my anus. Then they rip the wax off in strips, until I’m bald as an egg absolutely everywhere.

Daniela watches the whole thing, then examines the final result. She checks my bare pussy for any sign of deformity that might derail her plans. Then she nods her approval.

“When I was presented to your father, I was stripped naked in front of a dozen of his soldiers. They evaluated me like a horse at auction. Be grateful it’s only Rocco you have to impress.”

She leaves me with the aestheticians so she can complete her own beautifying.

Daniela has already selected the clothing and jewelry I’ll bewearing.

The aestheticians carry out her orders, zipping me into a suffocating gown that hoists up my breasts and cinches my waist to a fraction of its usual size. The gown is long, gold, and sparkling, with the sort of sleeves that are not sleeves at all, but only fabric draped below the shoulders. My hair is piled up on my head with a gold band as a tiara.

It’s all undeniably beautiful, in impeccable taste.

I’m a glittering golden gift.

A black shroud would be more fitting. I feel like I’m going to my own funeral.

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