Page 48 of Rise of a Fallen Man

“Your Highness.” He bowed his head.

His men got up too. They quickly gathered tea cups and plates from the furniture and put them on silver tea trays.

“Greetings, my prince.” I gave him a nod, waiting for his men to leave the room.

They filed out through the door, taking the tea trays with them and bowing to me on their way out. When the door behind them closed, I leaned against it with a long breath out.

“What a day, right?” I said with a smile.

“It was quite intense,” the prince agreed, not returning my smile.

His jaw tensed with a hard swallow. Lifting his hand, he started opening the small buttons in the front of his muslin nightshirt. He fumbled with a few, his trembling fingers disobeying him.

“Leafar, there is no need to hurry.” I looked around the room, searching for the best place to set down my useless lantern. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to talk to you earlier, but it’s beenso fucking hard to find any privacy to have this conversation.” He flinched at my cursing. “Sorry,” I apologized mechanically. “What I mean is that we can wait, take our time to get to know each other.” I walked to the side stand on my left and got rid of the lantern, then turned back to him. “Until we’re ready—”

“I am ready.” He opened his nightgown and shrugged it off his shoulders.

I blinked, met with the pale expanse of his smooth, completely hairless skin. Promptly diverting my gaze, I tried to look anywhere else but at him.

“Listen, um...”

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” The worry in his voice brought my gaze back to him. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, then splayed his fingers wide, looking more tense than ever.

I searched for something reassuring to say when a glimmer of metal in his pelvis area caught my eye.

“What is this?” I stared straight at it. It looked like an elaborate piece of jewelry obstructing his penis.

He glanced down at his body.

“A chastity cage,” he explained proudly. “I’ve been saving myself for you.”

“Oh, gods...” I pressed a hand to my chest, coming closer.

A set of golden rings enclosed his length. Thin chains connected the rings, making the contraption flexible for movement but preventing it from expanding in any direction. I imagined an erection would be impossible with this cage on. And that undoubtedly was its purpose.

Stunned, I ran a hand through my hair.

“It’s quite literal then, isn’t it? They actually caged you.”

“You didn’t know?” he asked, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Is it not done to boys in Rorrim?”

“No. I don’t think so...” I wavered in my answer, realizing I lacked the experience to speak for sure. “I’ve heard of those, but I thought they were the things of the distant past. I don’t know of anyone still using them in Rorrim now, not as the means to force a boy’s virginity, at least.”

“All princes of Olakrez wear them,” he said confidently. “Chastity cages are supposed to guard our thoughts onto a proper path. Prayers and magic spells further protect our bodies from the impure urges of temptation.”

“Do they protect, really?” I asked sceptically. “Does it mean you’ve had no ‘impure’ thoughts whatsoever?”

He blinked rapidly before looking away. Deep blush colored his face. “I pray to Yarnus daily, and he answers my prayers by granting me peace...often.”

My father came from Olakrez. I hated to think he’d been subjected to this treatment too. He never spoke about it to me, not even in that indirect way he employed when dealing with uncomfortable topics. Was he ashamed? Or did he simply take it for granted as something not worth mentioning?

“How long have you been wearing it?” I asked.

“For as long as I can remember. When I was little, I only had to wear it at night. Since I turned twelve, I haven’t been allowed to take it off at all.”

He must’ve expected me to be pleased. After all, he’d been put through it for my sake. All his life, he’d been told that abstinence in every form would make him the most valuable to his wife, the most desirable. But I simply couldn’t muster any reaction other than horror, repulsion, and pity.

The key that his aunt had given to me turned out to be not merely symbolic. I yanked it out of my pocket.

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