“I’ll take your gold,” Ovren says, smirking and folding his arms over his chest. “You won’t even get into the room, never mind get near the princess.”
“But if I win the wager—” I extend my hand “—you’ll meet me in that pit tomorrow morn and then bring me onto the altar.”
They both shake my hand.
I spy what looks like the main entrance to the room. “How do I get to that door?”
“You won’t get in,” Ovren says at the same time Ham says, “Just keep to your left.”
I wink at the men, then follow the narrow corridor, until it opens into a wider one. As promised, I soon see what looks like the other side of the entrance.
It’s unlocked and unguarded, and I barge in like I own the place, and, as Crown Prince of the Light, in some ways I do.
“Your Highness.” One of the robed women bows toward me, and I fill with gratitude that I’ve been recognized—or at least my fine clothing has been. “You are lost.”
“Perhaps,” I say, “but I quite like where my explorations have led me.” Leering, I scan my gaze over the group of naked women, some of them trying to cover their breasts or their sex with their hands.
I glance toward Rosomon. She makes eye contact, but her expression’s difficult to read. One of the robed women yanks her out of the bath and starts roughly rubbing her dry.
“Are these the famous Wives of Othrix?” I ask. “As Tynan, Crown Prince of the Light, I enjoyed many nights of their service, while in my father’s palace.”
The mistress who seems in charge perks up when I deliver my title, confirming my importance.
“Do you require service tonight?” she asks. “Pick whichever Wife, or Wives, you prefer. We will have them readied and delivered to your bed chamber, wherever you are residing in the city.”
I turn toward Rosomon. “I want this one.” This might actually work.
“I’m sorry Your Highness. This heretic is a mere bride, not yet a Wife of Othrix. But you may pick any of the others.” She gestures toward the other women.
“I wanther.” I stride toward Rosomon.
“Your Highness.” The woman steps into my path. “I am Head Mistress and protector of all Wives of Othrix. I cannot allow this. If all goes well, your Highness might be able to enjoy her companytomorrownight.”
“If she’s not bleeding too badly from the ceremony,” another one of the mistresses mutters.
I keep my gaze on the head mistress, increasing my pressure on her. “Why would a ceremony cause bleeding?”
The head mistress defensively raises her chin. “To consummate her marriage to Othrix, this heretic will be blessed by many holy men. The klericks will generously push their goodness inside her to force out her wickedness.”
The woman’s cheeks turn red, but her jaw firms. “If the girl is a maiden, this alone may cause bleeding. And if she isnota maiden, her bleeding will also come from her penance.”
“Penance for what?” I square my stance, determined to force this woman to admit her planned brutality.
“For being not only a heretic, but a harlot.” The woman’s chin rises. “If she’s not a maiden, she must atone.”
Ovren and Ham weren’t exaggerating. I need to stop this.
“I’m going to fuck her right now,” I say boldly as I lewdly cup my flap. “I will claim her maidenhood myself.”
“That’s not possible, Your Highness.” The head mistress again blocks my path.
Another one steps forward. “If it’s maidens you’re after, Your Highness, we can arrange for you to be the first to penetrate every bride on the altar tomorrow.”
“Before the klericks?” The head mistress snaps and glares at the other woman.
I need to shut this disagreement down. “I will take this pink-haired one to my chambers right now,” I say in the most commanding tone I can muster. “I’ll make sure her cunt is well prepared for tomorrow.”
The head mistress shakes her head. “That’s not possible.” She swallows, hard. “We can arrange for you to be the first to penetrate her tomorrow—” she glares at the mistress who suggested this “—but only if she proves to be a maiden.”
