Page 36 of What Fury Brings (Wrath and Fury #1)

The night before the party, Andrastus approached Olerra. He’d been silent during drills and the breaks in between them. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was nervous.

“Be honest, how many other men are likely to perform recitations?” he asked.

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. “At the party you mean? A few. Why?”

“It doesn’t seem likely that I will gain you much favor by performing a feat several others are already doing. It doesn’t attract attention, and it doesn’t elevate you in any way.”

“We must work with what we have.”

He ran his fingers through his white-blond hair. “I have an idea. It’s… a bit reckless and involves you allowing me to have sharp objects.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

What he said was ridiculous, but if he could actually do it, she couldn’t imagine anyone not being impressed.

“Can I trust you?” she asked.

“In this? Yes.”

“Swear on something that matters.”

“I swear on the life of my little sister. There is no trick here.”

Olerra blinked. “You have a sister?”

“Yes, Emorra is the youngest. My brothers and I work very hard to ensure our father’s attention doesn’t stray to her. She doesn’t get brought up often, and we keep her out of the public eye.”

“What do you mean?”

They were talking more, so much more that Sanos hadn’t realized when he’d slipped just now. It wasn’t that he was keeping things from her, aside from his identity. It was that he didn’t like to address the violence in his life.

He must have been silent for a while, because Olerra reached out to touch his arm. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “But if you want to, I will listen.”

He kept his voice neutral. “My father is a violent man. He has creative ways to keep us in line.”

“He beats you?” she asked.

“Regularly and under the guise of torture training.”

“Where?” She was looking him all over, as though remembering what he looked like naked. The lack of repeated scars. Just those of typical training.

“Our backs mostly. He has a cane he likes to use. It doesn’t break the skin.” Gods, he felt so exposed. So ashamed by this secret.

“And he does this to your sister?”

“Not in many years. We… make sure to keep his attention.”

Olerra said nothing. She was staring off in the distance. Did she believe him? That was perhaps his worst fear. That she would dismiss his words.

“Do any of your brothers take after him?” she finally asked.

Why did she want to know? “No. We all detest him. We do not prey on others for sport.”

She bit her full lower lip in thought. “Let’s head home for the day. You are distracted and should go to bed early. You will need to practice your routine before the party.”

He nodded.

She was silent on the trek back to the palace from the training grounds. The eunuchs followed at a distance. Sanos left her to her thoughts.

They had a quiet dinner together, and then the evening routine was the same. Sanos was chained to the bed, just as he always was, and she walked in wearing skimpy nightclothes to bid him good night.

She strode forward until she was nearly touching the bed. Her eyes met his. “I want you to know that your father will never lay a hand on you again. Not while I have air to breathe. I swear it on my mother’s ashes.”

His heart hurt. There was something about the way she was looking at him, not with pity, but with protectiveness.

He swallowed. “I believe you.”

She nodded once, and then that usual silence filled the room. Ydra had told him that she was waiting for him to instigate something. He grew excited by the thought, but he’d been thinking about this for days. About what he wanted.

He said, “I will not ask for intimacy from you until I am allowed to do so without chains. I loved it when you touched me, but I want to touch you, too.”

Her mouth rounded into the smallest O. He’d surprised her.

She stood still for so long he thought perhaps she might step forward to unchain him. His breath hitched as he waited for it.

She said, “You need your rest, Prince.”

And left.

Olerra locked the door between their rooms and pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart felt as though it might try to beat its way free. She wanted so desperately to take him up on his offer of intimacy. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted it more than anything except the throne.

But her mother’s death loomed between them. The threat of what he could do to her, what he could find out about her, was too much. She’d fled before doing something stupid, like releasing him from his chains.

Olerra stared at the box of phalluses and had the overwhelming urge to fling it across the room.

What was it all for? What was the point?

Did she really think he would be content strapped down for every sexual encounter they had?

That it would be enough for him? That it would be enough for her ?

She was a fool. A fool for taking him. A fool for thinking this would work.

Grief swung out of nowhere, and Olerra was struck with the pain of missing her mother stronger than she’d felt it in years.

She barely remembered the woman, but she wanted her advice. Would she have been able to tell Olerra why she didn’t have the Goddess’s Gift? Did she know? Would she have protected her?

Olerra opened the kit. She was one phallus away from the one she needed to fit inside her. After tonight, she could be ready for him. But would she ever be able to have him?

She used oil to get the phallus inside her and went to bed without coming.

The next night, the last thing Olerra wanted to do was be in a room with her cousin.

Over a dozen guards followed Olerra and Andrastus to Glenaerys’s wing of the palace.

They were dressed in beautiful dresses or decorative pants, their hair done up in elaborate twisting braids.

But each woman wore a sword at her side.

They had all been invited to the party, and Olerra had personally requested that they escort her and her betrothed.

She needed women she could trust surrounding them at all times.

Though Glen had thrown many parties for the sake of having a party, Olerra knew this one had some other purpose. She knew to suspect something from Glen. She just didn’t know how deadly those plans would be.

But, gods, Olerra hoped Glen gave her a reason to smack her. Without legal repercussions.

Olerra’s guards entered the party in twos and threes ahead of them, in order to look less conspicuous. They had strict orders to always keep one eye on her and Andrastus.

The prince had been quiet this evening, not even complaining about the clothes she’d picked out for him.

He wore a white shirt that sparkled in the light, faceted beads sewn throughout in a swirling design.

His left arm was uncovered by the garment, as always, to show off the silver-and-onyx armband.

The right side of his hair was braided away from his face so the matching onyx earring could be seen.

His pants only reached down to his mid-calf to show off the anklet made of black diamonds. Sturdy sandals encased his feet.

She had a hard time keeping her eyes off him, but when they walked through the doors, into Glen’s domain, Olerra was instantly on alert.

“Damn,” Sanos said.

“Yes, Glen is known for sparing no expense.”

That was an understatement. The room resembled the inside of a jewelry box.

One might think it would be the women who sparkled like gems, but it was the men, and none were so elegant as Glen’s harem.

They wore headdresses dripping with opals.

White diamonds pierced their nipples and ears.

And in one man’s case, his tongue. Sanos saw it as he threw his head back to laugh.

So much skin was on display, and tight clothing highlighted muscles and asses and front bulges.

Sanos almost felt out of place in his simpler attire.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Olerra asked.

“Gods, yes.”

She returned with a sweet-smelling drink. It was crisp and tasted of apples and cherries. It burned slightly as it went down his throat. He noticed that her glass had a different-colored liquid within.

“What are you drinking?” he asked her.

She took a sip. “I prefer a strong ale to the sweeter mead. I thought you’d like the better-tasting of the two.”

Sanos downed his cup. “That was delicious, but I’ll take an ale, please.”

She grinned as she left to fetch him one.

The air filled with drums and stringed instruments.

The room was split into two tiers. Women lounged on the bottom floor, sprawled on pillows, resting their drinks on low tables.

The men, meanwhile, were mostly on the upper tier.

There was a raised dais, and the men danced provocatively, thrusting hips and showing off their flexibility.

It was hard for Sanos to watch them for too long, yet it was strangely informative.

When Olerra returned with his second drink, he pointed to the dancers. “Is that where I’m meant to be?”

“No, you’re to stay by my side the entire evening.”

He supposed there were a few men on the main floor. They had their heads in the laps of their women or could be found offering massages. They weren’t talking. They were silently performing, just like the men dancing.

Olerra and Sanos were meant to be selling a romance, yet she hadn’t asked anything of him. Aside from the chaste arm-holding when they walked places, they always stood apart.

He looked at her now, wondering where he might touch her to put on a show. She wore her hair down for once. Thick braids pulled the strands away from her scalp, but the majority of it trailed down her back. It was beautiful and thick, and he wanted to put his hands through it.

So he did.

He threaded his fingers at the back of her scalp, where the braids ended, and massaged lightly as he swallowed more ale.