Page 102 of Dukes of Peril

“Um…” That isnotwhat I wanted to ask, but fuck, maybe later.Aftertwo glasses of wine. “Actually, I was wondering about Saul. Did you ever… love him?”

“No,” she says with zero hesitation, barking a harsh laugh. “We had some good times, and I accepted him as my third Duke, but I’m not sure it’s possible to love a man like Saul. I know for certain he’s incapable of loving anyone but himself.”

I think about how bitter Sy was when they first won me from the Lords. He loathed me. He wasterribleto me, but I saw his love for his brother and Remy. I knew he had the capacity for it. We just had to tear down those walls.

Sarah takes another slow drag and hands the joint back to me. “Not that any of it was easy. Back then, Davis and Manny wanted two things: to fight and fuck. It was fun, but later, they saw I wanted more. To have a career, to build a family.” There’s a dread in her eyes that startles me to see. “Saul always wanted one thing: Power, by any means necessary.”

“Sounds familiar,” I say, thinking of my father.

She lifts her feet, resting them on the edge of the pit, warming them. “But we tried to make it work, and for a while, we did.” A nostalgic smile pulls at her mouth. “Saul was handsome and a strong fighter. On campus and at the gym, we made it seem like everything was fine. We put on a show. But back at the tower,” she waves a hand, “he wasn’t involved in our relationship at all. After a while, he didn’t require much from me—sexually speaking. Turns out, he had incredibly specific desires, and I didn't check the boxes.”

“Wait.” I pause with the joint suspended halfway to my lips. “Is Saul gay or something? Is that why he doesn’t have a Queen or any kids?” Saul has always been a strange Royal outlier. Ashby doesn’t have any blood heirs either, but that’s a special circumstance. To have a child and lose it so young…

But she shakes her head. “Oh no, not Saul. He’s bolted very firmly to the zero on the Kinsey scale.” Her expression turns pensive. “It might even be one of the reasons I specialized in sex therapy. I suppose you could say his predilections fascinated me. I wouldn’t call Saul deviant, just… very particular. Nothing about me fit what he wanted.” She spins her wedding ring around her finger. “Specifically, I wasn’t a Royal daughter or a sweet, compliant virgin.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? Saul’s forever alone because he’s just a big, throbbing Royal cliche?” But then I think about what Story’s told me about the Kings’ plans for her. She was meant to be their asset until she ran away, leaving me in her place. She wasit. A sweet little virginal Royal daughter–not by blood, but who knows? Maybe she was close enough. I look up at Sarah in shock. “God, he really is, isn’t he?”

She shrugs. “I thought we’d reached an agreeable place in our relationship. He had the status to get ahead. I had two men that I loved and who worshiped me in return.”

I take another drag before passing the joint back over the table. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

She gives me a tight smile. “It was little stuff at first. He was dismissive to me. Demeaning. He wanted me to treat him like a god while he acted like I was dirt on the bottom of his shoe. He trivialized my academic drive. While Davis, Manny and I were taking classes and partying, Saul was making plans.”

My muscles ease, the cannabis seeping into my bloodstream. “What kind of plans?”

She tips her head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. “Business plans. Social plans. Setting the frat up for his takeover. For instance,” she says, giving me a significant look, “the alumni poker game.”

A shiver runs up my spine. “Oh. That.”

Nodding, she explains, “Gambling and tradition have always been West End vices, but it was Saul’s idea to turn the annual poker game into a networking opportunity. Suddenly, it wasn’t just a fun night to catch up with everyone and lose all their money. He’s the one who came up with the idea of having the cutsluts provide entertainment.” Barking a sour laugh, she adds, “Hell, he’s the one who came up with cutsluts. Him and Mama B.”

“Really?” For some reason, a part of me had always figured the cutsluts were an institution as old as the clock tower itself, only now that I think about it, it makes sense.

“Oh, yes,” she says, flapping a hand. “Of course, there were always gym girls milling around. They just gave them a name. An identity. A purpose. I’m sure he pitched it to Mama B as the most feminist thing she ever heard.”

I give her a doubtful look. “And now he basically wants me to be one.” Leaving out everything relating to the blackmail, I explain that Saul wants me to be the entertainment.

“He wants you to perform,” she clarifies, going quiet. I don’t like the sting of pity in her eyes, but even worse is the tug of confusion in her brow. “I doubt Saul’s ever ordered a Duchess to do that before. You understand that, don’t you? It’s not your duty.”

Shifting uncomfortably, I say, “He’s my King now. My duty is whatever he says it is.” She knows this is smoke and mirrors, surely. I’m Lavina Lucia. I don’t take orders from just anyone.

Not unless they have something on me.

“Lavinia…” From her pause, I get the impression she’s choosing her words very carefully. “You’re a Royal daughter. The exact thing he’s always wanted.”

“I’m not sweet or virginal,” I point out, scoffing.

“Still,” she says, reaching out to place her hand over mine. “You’re not safe with him. From one Duchess to another, I need you to know that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’d take a truly stupid girl to think she’s safe with any King, let alone one who’s competing with her father.” More thoughtfully, I add, “I don’t trust Saul, but I trust Remy and your sons. They’ll protect me.”

There’s a light in her eyes that dims with each passing word, until finally, she leans back, taking a steeling breath. “I have a question for you, too. Normally, this is something I’d ask them directly. I don’t like secrets, Lavinia.” Her mouth flattens to a tense line. “Unfortunately, Nick does.”

Squirming under the weight of her gaze, I already know I won’t betray Nick–not even to his mother. Still, I answer, “What do you want to know?”

She watches me intently, her words quiet and solemn. “Does my son intend to take Saul’s crown?”

I lock up, feeling foolish. If she brought me out here and got me stoned just to interrogate me about Nick’s plans… “I don’t know,” I answer, unable to blame her. “Maybe.”

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