Chapter 21 Twenty One

Chapter 21 Twenty One
Cupid

Boom!

Thunder cracked across the darn sky, splitting the heavens open.

I jolted awake with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs, disoriented and aching in places I didn't know could ache.

The bed was empty beside me.

I turned my head slowly, every movement sending fresh waves of soreness through muscles that had been pushed far beyond their limits, and confirmed what I'd already sensed. 

Dragus was gone.

The sheets were still warm where he'd been, and the imprint of his massive frame was still visible on the mattress. But the room was silent except for the distant rumble of thunder and my own ragged breathing.

After a long, brutal day and night of what I could only describe as endless, primal rutting; long hours that blurred together into a haze of heat and pressure and his relentless claiming of every inch of my body, I was finally alone.

My legs trembled when I tried to change my position. The insides of my thighs were slick with his seed, still wet despite how much time must have passed. The evidence of what he'd done to me, the things that I had allowed him to do in exchange for Aerion's life, coated my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the shame that threatened to overwhelm me.

The sky outside the window was its usual stormy darkness, volcanic clouds roiling in shades of black and dark red. I couldn't tell what time it was; the sun never came up in the Nexium realm. The best they had was different shades of darkness, but it looked a little lighter grey outside so it was most likely midday.

How long had I been unconscious? How many hours had my body simply surrendered to exhaustion while he—

"Finally, you're awake."

“Gods in heaven!” I screamed.

My heart nearly gave out from the shock. I hadn't heard anyone approach me, nor had I sensed another presence in the room with me at all.

A figure moved in the shadows near the doorway, stepping forward into the dim red light cast by the lava channels in the walls.

Cersei.

She stood perfectly still, her cold blue skin almost luminous in the darkness, those empty grey eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"Follow me to the washroom," she said, her voice carefully neutral though it had a hint of some strange tone I couldn’t yet put my finger on.

I blinked at her, my mind still foggy from sleep and tiredness. 

She was looking me up and down with an expression I could now read all too clearly. Jealousy. Envy flickered across her delicate features before her face settled back into its usual blank mask.

Her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. “Quickly. There is no time to waste.”

I stood up sheepishly, immediately regretting the movement as fresh soreness shot through my hips and lower back. 

The sheet fell away and I scrambled to cover myself, suddenly hyperaware of the state I was in; the bruises on my neck and chest, the bite marks, the obscene evidence still coating my thighs.

Cersei's eyes followed my movement, her expression hardening even more.

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the adjacent washroom. I followed on unsteady legs, clutching the sheet around myself, my mind too exhausted to form coherent thoughts beyond the immediate need to get clean.

The washroom was already prepared; there was steam rising from the natural hot spring pool, soft firelight flickering from sconces on the black walls. 

I let the sheet drop and stepped foot into the water, sinking down with a sigh of relief as the heat seeped into my tired body. 

I had had plenty of energy to scream and fight the day before, but I had most of that fight now.

For a long moment, I just sat there with my eyes closed, trying to gather the scattered pieces of myself.

“Would you kike Lavender or Elderberry?” Cersei asked. I shrugged, but was crying either way.

The events of the past few days had taken their toll on me. From the dungeon to my escape attempt. From Aerion's broken body to the bargain I'd made. Down to the endless night that followed.

I needed time to think and process things until I could figure out what came next.

All I had to do now was—

"How did you get the king to notice you?"

I opened my eyes in surprise and looked at her. She was standing at the pool's edge, her hands were clasped in front of her and her posture was perfect and formal, yet her eyes were burning.

"What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"How did you persuade him to favour you above all others?" Her voice was clipped and controlled, but there was something strange underneath all that. A desperate and wanting gaze.

I stared back at her, too tired to understand what she was asking. “How do you mean?” I asked

She took a breath, but when she spoke again, her usual perfect composure was now a little less perfect.

"It is not my place to question His Majesty's judgment," she said carefully, each word chosen carefully. "Yet I cannot help but observe that it should be me in your position. Not you."

"I don't understand," I said slowly.

Her grey eyes flashed with a sharp, painful expression.

"The king has countless women passing through his bed during the rut period," she said, her voice taking on a dark edge. 

"Some human, others like us—transformed, remade in his image. They come and they leave, forgotten before the night is even over."

My ears quirked at that, “What do you mean remade in his image? How exactly does that work? I asked suspiciously.

She ignored me completely, taking a step closer to the pool. "You are the first who has returned to his bed a second time. The first permitted entry to his private chambers. You alone are the first to bathe in his personal washroom, to use his oils and soaps reserved only for royalty."

She was trembling now, though whether from anger or heartbreak, I couldn't tell which.

"You receive his mercy even as you defy him time and again," she continued, her voice rising with emotion. 

"While I remain completely obedient in all things. I serve without question, without hesitation, and without failure. I have devoted my entire existence to earning even a moment of his favour." Her hands clenched tight at her sides. "It is not fair."

I sat frozen in the water, too shocked to respond.

"I have been trying for centuries," she said, and now the desperation was clear in her voice, raw and aching. "Centuries of perfect service. Of anticipating his every need and making myself indispensable to him in every way I knew how." 

Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "And yet when he looks at me, I see only a servant reflected in his eyes. A useful tool. Perhaps his most trusted and loyal servant, but a servant nonetheless. Never more."

She looked at me directly then, and the naked longing in her expression made my chest tight.

"Never a woman he desires. Never someone he wants."

Here was someone else pining for the very beast I despised more than anyone I'd ever met. Longing for the monster who'd destroyed my family, who kept innocent people trapped in torture chambers and forced me into this nightmare.

It was unbelievable.

I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Scream at the top of my voice that he was a monster, that he didn't deserve her devotion and that he was only using her the same way he used everyone.

But I glanced warily around the washroom, remembering there were guards outside. I remembered also, how quickly Dragus had appeared when I'd tried to convince her to escape.

Someone was always listening, always watching. If I were to speak freely, I would first have to make sure there were no eyes on me.

So instead, I swallowed my true thoughts and forced out the words I knew were expected. The words that might keep me, and her, alive for one day longer.