The royal court was in chaos. Nobles shouted over one another, their voices an orchestra of fear and anger echoing off the walls. Murmurs of betrayal, conspiracy, and dark forces filled the air as accusations flew from one house to another.

The king sat upon his ornate throne, his face a mask of controlled fury. His piercing gaze shifted between his children, seated to his right, and the gathered nobles before him. At last, he raised a hand, silencing the court with a single gesture.

“What is going on in my kingdom?” his deep voice rang out, commanding authority. “Three nobles, all high-standing members of this court, slain within days of one another. Beheaded in a manner that reeks of vengeance. Who is killing my people?”

A tense silence followed as all eyes darted nervously between one another. None dared to speak, worried that they might unintentionally incriminate themselves.

Among those seated at the king’s side was Princess Kalythra, her striking features composed into a mask of detached interest. Outwardly, she appeared unaffected by the king’s words, but inwardly, she smirked.

She clasped her hands neatly in her lap, her fingers lightly brushing over her gown’s silken fabric. The sensation of power coursed through her—a delightful buzz that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. ‘My loyal Alia,’ she thought, her core throbbing with anticipation.

She didn’t expect her servant to carry out her orders with such brutal efficiency. The image of the nobles’ heads, neatly presented to her, danced tantalisingly in her mind. Her smirk deepened ever so slightly as her thoughts shifted to the reunion awaiting her.

‘How I miss the touch of her hands,’ she mused, heat pooling in her belly. ‘The way her lips know their place, her body trembling under my command. My sweet servant, you are everything I desire.’

Her thighs pressed together subtly as she imagined the moment her servant will return to her. ‘She has done what I asked of her. My dear servant has proven her worth, her devotion. Soon, I shall reward her, as only I can.’

The king’s voice jolted her from her thoughts.

“This cannot go unpunished!” he thundered. “I want answers, and I want them now. Whoever is behind these murders will face the full wrath of the crown.”

The nobles exchanged wary glances, their unease growing.

Kalythra remained calm, her smile faint as she raised a delicate hand. “Father, perhaps it would be wise to assign a thorough investigation to the royal guards. Surely, they can uncover the truth.”

The king’s sharp eyes landed on her, but he nodded. “You’re right, Kalythra. The royal guards will look into this at once. And if anyone here has information, they had best speak now, or suffer the consequences of their silence.”

The court fell silent once more, the weight of the king’s threat hanging heavy in the air.

As the meeting continued, Kalythra’s mind wandered again to Valaia. Her servant’s return would be inevitable, and the thought filled her with a dark satisfaction. ‘Come back to me, my love. Let me reward you for your loyalty—and remind you that your place is by my side.’

Kalythra rose gracefully from her seat, smoothing the fabric of her gown as she addressed her father. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she began, her voice delicate but firm. “I must excuse myself for a moment. It seems my time of the month has caught me unprepared.”

The king frowned slightly, but waved her off with a dismissive gesture. “Go quickly, Kalythra. This is no time for distractions.”

“Of course, Father,” she said, bowing her head, though the faintest smirk tugged at her lips.

She hurried out of the chamber, keeping her composure until she was out of sight. The moment the heavy doors of the court closed behind her, her regal mask fell away. Her steps quickened as she made her way through the winding halls, her pulse racing, her core throbbing with an insatiable hunger.

By the time she reached her chamber, she was nearly trembling. She slammed the door shut behind her, twisting the lock with a sharp click. Her fingers fumbled with the ties of her dress as she yanked the heavy fabric away from her body, casting it aside carelessly.

Her undergarments followed, discarded in a frenzy until she stood bare before the large ornate mirror. She paused briefly, her chest heaving as her eyes roamed over her reflection. Her flushed skin, the wild gleam in her eyes—it thrilled her.

Throwing herself onto the silken sheets of her bed, she let out a sharp, manic laugh, her legs falling open as her hand slipped down to the slick heat between her thighs. Her core was dripping, aching for attention.

“Servant,” she whispered, her voice breathy as her fingers began their work. Then, louder, her laughter bubbling into something wickedly unhinged, she screamed inwardly, ‘Servant, come to me now!’

Her head fell back, her black hair spilling over the pillows as her manic laughter filled the room. The thought of Alia, of her servant’s obedience and skill, sent a shiver through her body. She could almost feel the servant’s hands, her lips—almost hear her voice whispering desperate promises of devotion.

‘You cannot resist me, Alia,’ she thought as her fingers moved faster, her laughter dissolving into breathless gasps. ‘You are mine. My tool. My plaything. And when you return, I shall remind you exactly where you belong.’