“Well…it’s the princess.”
Nox stills, only slightly, just enough to sell the moment. “Princess Asharin?”
“Yes,” Brinette says, glancing toward the windows as though the walls might be listening. “There are rumors. No one knows what truly happened. Only that the king—” She pauses, adjusts. “That something happened. And she is gone.”
Gone.
Nox leans back slightly. “Gone?”
“No one knows where,” Brinette says. “Or when she will return.”
Nox leans forward, lowering her voice to match. “And the king?”
“King Sevrin has said very little.”
A wise choice. Nox marks it and moves on.
“Is he cruel?” she asks, almost idly, trying to hide the hopefulness in her tone.
Brinette hesitates. “I wouldn’t say?—”
“Powerful, then,” Nox corrects, because that is the only answer that matters.
“Yes,” Brinette says after a moment. “Very.”
Finally, something that might justify her time. She wonders if he is powerful in the fuckable sense of the word, but she can tell that Brinette has the lust level of a dried prune so asking would be a waste of time.
A girl at a brothel once told her he has a fiery temper and impressive girth, though she was not a reliable source, given thevolume of clientele. She imagined most men called themselves kings in a brothel.
Nox lets the silence stretch, then leans back as Brinette, clearly relieved, returns to safer ground.
“Now, about posture?—”
Fuck this.
She moves without warning, closing the distance in a single motion, her hand locking around Brinette’s throat as she drags her forward across the table, porcelain shattering as it hits the floor, tea spilling in dark streaks that at least add something of interest to the room.
Brinette reacts quickly, faster than expected, but it is too late for that to matter, and Nox laughs softly as she leans in, her mouth finding her neck without hesitation.
The taste is immediate, warm and real and finally worth her attention. Brinette struggles, there is strength there, actual resistance, and Nox appreciates it, almost. But certainly not impressive enough to make her want to stop.
Brinette is quite talented. Even her blood is disappointingly dull. The movement slows, then fades, then stops entirely, and Nox pulls back only when she’s satisfied, letting the body fall to the floor with a dull, unimpressive sound.
“There,” she murmurs, straightening slowly. “Worth the tea.”
She studies the body, already losing interest. Then lifts her hands as smoke begins to curl from her fingers, dark and thick as it spreads across her skin, the air growing damp and heavy as her form shifts beneath it, reshaping into something new.
When it clears, she turns toward the mirror. Brinette looks back at her. Same face. Same composure.
Nox watches her reflection, then smiles. “Perfect.”
She adjusts her posture slightly, easing into the role, already improving it.
“This will do.”
She snaps her fingers.
Larkin appears in the doorway. “What do you wish me to do with her?” he asks.
