Page 60 of The Poison Princess and the Lord of Misrule

“And yet,” Aldric continues, “an execution only gains me a scandal and loses me a queen, and a treaty.”

Sera’s eyebrow arches. “The story can be whatever you want,” she says.

“Whatever I want,” he repeats.

A tense moment of pause.

“Since it’s you who brought this debauchery into my wedding bed,” Aldric says, mock disdain bleeding through his voice. “I say it’s whateveryou want, wife.”

Then, with a dramatic exhale, he tosses the dagger aside. It clatters across the stones, graceless, discarded. “We can carry on. Make the damned gods of debauchery blush, or—” he tightens his grip on me “—let the fates decide. Your choice. But choose wisely.”

Sera shakes her head. “Aldric, I will pay for what I’ve done. But I will not be a part of this…madness. Take your revenge on me, but only me.”

He laughs. “Revenge? No, my love, there’s no need for revenge. Your punishment on the other hand… I am a just king, after all. I think we could come to an understanding on how topunish you.”

A swallow dips along her throat. “Yes,” she says breathlessly.

“Good girl.” Aldric tugs my trousers lower. “You’re a princess—sorry,werea princess of the Thorn Court, but you’re still a daughter of Threnmere. Sexual rites and its salacious practices are in your blood. To serve your goddess’s appetite, no?”

Sera lifts her chin, silent.

“Let us honor your goddess tonight, love.” I can feel the tremble of anticipation ripple through him. “Come here, wife,” he commands her. “Crawl.”

The thought of overpowering him surfaces. He’s unarmed. No one—not one guard or servant in this palace—knows of this yet.

My muscles gather in preparation, but the slightest shake of Sera’s head, the widening plea of her eyes, ends my fight immediately.

“Ren,” she breathes, so much said in just my name alone.

Defeat shatters through me.

She releases the bedpost and slowly lowers onto her hands and knees. Her nightdress all but ruined, I watch her crawl across the bed, her eyes on me. She moves forward, a reproduction of me at the feast crawling toward her, Aldric degrading her in the very same way. She crawls closer, until she’s near enough her soft breath grazes my bare skin.

“Lift up,” Aldric orders her.

She does so, balancing on her knees, her eyes large andlashes heavy. Aldric reaches around and grasps the loose bodice of her gown, parting it open.

My breath struggles at the sight of her breasts, full and beautiful. His thumb glides across one rosy nipple, making her suck in a sharp breath, and I feel that touch in my groin. My cock jumps.

“Just look at her,” Aldric says, mouth close to my ear. “She’s more lovely than any goddess of Threnmere. More tempting, too. Don’t you want to touch her?” he goads me. “Don’t you want to take her for yourself, jester?”

I swallow thickly. “Not like this,” I say, but the conviction has been wrung from my voice at the sight of him caressing her, the way her eyes go half-mast at the sensation, her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

I shut my eyes.Angels above—fuck, have mercy.

Aldric groans, and his hips shift forward. I feel him, hard, thick, against my backside. “It’s what she wants,” he says, “to be touched by two men desperate for her, craving her till she’s driven them mad. One willing to kill for her, and the other—her own king—driven to the brink by his relentless desire for her.” He touches her chin reverently. “Sheshouldbe punished for it. For how she’s made us both lose our gods-damned minds.”

He presses his mouth to my ear. “Why can’t we share her, jester? Punish and please her in the same breath, let her feel how blessedly mad she’s made us. Besides, wouldn’t you take any morsel she’s willing to offer you?”

“Yes,” I confess. The truth ofme flayed open.

“Mm,” he groans in approval. “I imagine you would.”

The loathing in Sera’s narrowed eyes spears him. “I hate you.”

“Yes, you’ve said as much. Yet your body claims otherwise, my love.” He grips her nightdress at the waist and yanks her closer. Then his hand vanishes beneath the hem, her gown bunched around his wrist as he moves higher.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice a guttural rasp. “Feel how wet your cunt already is. Just like the night of the feast. Don’t you remember, love? When you came so prettily for me on your own fingers?”