“But my hand?—”
“I said, crawl.”
I sank to my knees, and used my left hand, and right elbow. “Ah,” I cried out.
Galen made a pathetic moan in response, like he was trying to tell me no, trying to tell me to stop.
I wanted to. Fuck, it hurt so much to move my hand, to put any weight on my arms. But I lifted my knee, and thought of Galen smiling. Of us getting out of here. Finding a healer, the best in the Empire. Someone who could help him, who could fix this. Then I lifted my elbow, seeing us on the beach, splashing in the water. I moved my knee again, and saw Galen trying beer for the first time and grinning as I’d spat mine out. Another elbow. Galen confessed his feelings for Haleika to me. And I hugged him, wanting them to be together. They kept coming, images of Galen before, happy and healthy. Images of Galen after—healed, alive. I crawled and crawled, my stomach turning. I was a shivering, sweating mess by the time I reached his boots.
“Now kiss them,” he said.
So I did. Leaning down and kissing each one. There was still vomit on my tongue. But now there was sweat and specks of dirt caked to my lips.
“They’re a little dirty,” the Bastardmaker said, striding toward his brother. He kneeled before me, pointing at the Emperor’s boots. “Maybe you should clean them up.”
I sat back, confused, looking for the towel they’d given me. The Bastardmaker laughed. “With your mouth.”
Oh. I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing back bile, and then I bent back down, extended my tongue, and licked. I had to work to keep from throwing up again. From gagging on the scent of shit beneath his heels, the stale aroma of urine. I didn’t knowwhat I was licking or tasting. I couldn’t. I just knew I had to do this. Had to finish, had to breathe through my nose and not throw up. So I licked and I licked, tears burning my eyes, Galen’s moans in the background.
And I did the same on the other boot. Licking, and gagging, and holding it in, crying with every inch.
“What do you think, Waryn?” the Emperor asked. “Clean enough?”
The Bastardmaker laughed. “They have a certain shine to them.”
Suddenly, I was hauled to my feet, and dragged toward Galen so we were face-to-face.
“You want to live?” the Emperor asked him. “Keep your eye open.”
Galen’s nostrils flared, his lips screwed together, shaking, but he kept his eye on me as instructed.
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, sliding from my head to my waist. “Take down your pants,” he said.
“What! No.” I shook my head. “Please?—”
“Take. Down. Your. Pants.”
Galen cried out, the sound awful. His chest heaved, but he kept his eye on me.
Using my left hand, I reached for my waist, and undid the laces, letting my pants fall open.
“I said down,” the Emperor said.
So I pushed on them, and they fell to my knees, leaving me otherwise naked.
“Go on,” the Emperor said, his black eyes on my cock. “Grip it. Nice and firm.”
My breath was shallow as I did, moving my left hand to wrap around myself. I was going numb. I couldn’t feel a thing. Not even the pain radiating through me. The Bastardmaker movedcloser, watching intently. His hand snaking down to his hip and then lower. He was turned on.
“Galen,” the Emperor said. “Look at what your friend is willing to do to save your life.”
But Galen only glared, the look on his face saying if he could speak, he’d be cursing right now.
“You’re not looking, Galen,” the Bastardmaker said. “You’re not looking where you’re supposed to.” He took his face again, forcing it down, forcing him to stare at my cock.
“Are you satisfied?” I gritted through my teeth, terrified of what was next.
“Satisfied?” the Emperor asked. “Can one ever be satisfied?”
