Page 61 of Magic of Sins

He lets a water bottle roll across the gray concrete floor toward me. I would love to refuse him, but I’m just so thirsty. I open the bottle with nervous hands and take a few greedy gulps.

“What do you want from me?” I ask breathlessly after I put down the bottle.

“What do we want from you, your highness? To have a bit of fun, nothing more.”

I warily watch as Syrus reaches behind him. Fabric rustles. Then the sin mage tosses what looks to be a dress into the room. “Put this on. If you don’t, I’ll come in andhelpyou put it on. Believe me, it would be my pleasure.”

His tongue runs over his lower lip in a lewd gesture.

What are you going to do with me?I want to ask, but Syrus has already turned away and closed the door behind him. I hear the key turn in the lock.

On my knees, I scootch to the edge of the mattress and pull the pile of clothes toward me. It is indeed a dress. The long, black skirt is flared and made of a gauzy, multi-layered material that is almost see-through. The top is low cut and made of black lace. When I lift the dress to get a better look at it, something falls tothe floor with a clatter. A golden tiara set with red stones.

What is this? Why would Syrus want me to wear this? I doubt he wants me to go to a party.

I press the fabric of the dress to my chest, unsure what to do. I could refuse to put it on, but Syrus’s warning has me scared. I don’t want his filthy fingers, which have Ava’s blood on them, touching me, ripping off my robe and nightgown and then putting me in this impossible dress. I decide I better change before he comes back.

My body shivers from cold and fear as I hastily remove my clothes and trade them for this awful rag. The dress doesn’t fit well. It’s so tight at the hips that I have trouble zipping it up. On top, on the other hand, the fabric is loose and gaps at my chest. I cross my arms protectively as the key turns in the lock and the door opens again. Syrus surveys me with a satisfied nod.

“Good decision on your part, obeying me. Now put on your crown, princess, so we can be on our way.”

My gaze darts to the hallway behind Syrus. I could try to escape. But I have no idea where I am, and there’s an ominous gleam in his eyes, as if he’s just waiting for an opportunity to get back at me for the scratches on his face.First, I need to get the lay of the land,I decide, and pick up the tiara from the floor, tucking it into my hair.

We walk down a narrow corridor; neon lights flickering overhead. We soon reach a wooden staircase. The steps are worn, nails randomly sticking out of the carelessly fastened boards.

“Ladies first,” Syrus says, pointing up.

I have to lift my skirt so that the fabric doesn’t get caught on something. The higher I get, the more sounds I can hear coming from above. The muffled boom of a bass, voices, and the clinking of glasses. There are people up there—lots of people. But I realize with dread that probably none of them will come to my aid.

At the top of the stairs is another door. I hesitate to open it, but Syrus presses impatiently against my back.

“Come on, princess! Your subjects await you.”

What’s with him calling me princess all the time? At first I thought it was just a stupid nickname Jared and Syrus came up with, but I’m starting to think there’s more to it. Have I fallen into some kind of crazy role-playing game?

I don’t hesitate any longer and open the door. The music gets louder, people turn to look at me. Someone shines a spotlight on me, and I’m practically blinded.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my esteemed friends, I present to you Miss Kaya Ashton, Princess of the Empire,” Jared’s voice booms from a speaker.

Applause and whistles. Syrus gives me a shove, and I stumble forward, spinning around once in confusion and earning spiteful laughter. Someone reaches out and tugs at my skirt.

“She got all dressed up for you guys,” Syrus announces.

Princess of the Empire?

My hand goes to the tiara on my head, but before I can touch it, I’m grabbed and spun around.

“Dance for us, princess!” a voice calls.

“Yes, dance!”

I’m pushed forward. Thanks to the spotlight, I can barely see anything. The crowd is just a vague collection of shadows. My eyes water as I try to make out individual faces. Panicked, I attempt to find my footing and end up stumbling into the arms of a bearded man. He presses a kiss to my cheek before pushing me away.

They must have formed a circle around me, because suddenly I’m being pushed from all sides. There are hands everywhere, touching my body, pinching me and reaching into my hair.

A woman forces me to open my lips and pours the contents of her glass into my mouth. I taste the tingling alcohol, with somespilling out and running down my chin.

“Please,” I plead chokingly. “Please don’t.”

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