Princess Amaryllis found herself sitting in one of the five thrones at the end of the great hall where she had first met The Queen. The throne the queen had bid she sit in was the smallest of the five, positioned on the far left hand side of the dais. She had not noticed when she stood before The Queen last she had been in the room, but the five thrones sat in an arch. She was able to see the hall while also easily able to turn and see the other four thrones. With Queen Leana already seated in the largest, central throne, Amaryllis had the sense of the older woman’s gaze always being upon her. 

She felt a familiar wilting heat, and the image of the Queen’s glowing golden eyes came unbidden into her mind. Her pulse raced, and she felt a twitch between her legs and a tingle on her lips. 

She took a deep breath, shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, and adjusted her sheer gown over her legs. She was grateful to no longer be as exposed as she had been. Between her ample belly and thighs, it was not hard to maintain her modesty at least between her legs. Her breasts were still quite visible in the opalescent dress, but she could maintain her dignity through that. 

From her studies in history, she knew that several generations prior the noble women of Sinnachtal had worn bone-lined girdles that left their bosoms fully exposed. The historian she had read on the matter had described the practice condescendingly. He had written that the women of the time had believed the fashion to be “the height of nobility and feminine grace.” All the while his prose had dripped with sneering irony. Amaryllis was inclined to agree with the ladies, though, the illuminations and miniatures had been awe-inspiring and beautiful. What, she had wondered, was there to be ashamed of? 

She glanced between her legs and furrowed her brow. After The Queen’s mockery and the magic she had done on her mouth, Amaryllis struggled to feel a similar sense of pride in her womanhood. Thinking of others seeing it made her feel distinctly vulnerable. As she pondered, her fingers wandered to her mouth, and the remembered sensation of The Queen’s fingers bloomed on her tongue and the back of her throat. She squirmed, and her cheeks burned. 

She took another deep breath and examined the throne she was seated on. The chair was constructed of a heavy wood, lacquered to a near-black, and upholstered with deep purple and silvers. The arms, back, and upholstery were all intricately decorated with motifs of stars and nebulae. The top rail was crowned with a small plaque depicting a sword crossed over a crescent moon on a field of stars. 

To her right was a throne of silver upholstered in green and yellow decorated with daffodils and snowdrops, and beyond that was The Queen’s. The largest of the five, The Queen’s throne was the same ruddy-gold as the details of her dress and the archway outside. Decorated with the familiar vine and bramble pattern, the throne’s toprail supported a crest with a crown over a blazing sun. Vaguely, Amaryllis remembered learning about four Adlyr holidays celebrated at the height of each season. There had been something about Sidhe courts too, but she could not recall more than that. She cursed her younger self for not being more studious. The history of The Court of Castle Ohg’ir and her own house had always drawn her interest away from most else. 

Amaryllis’ musings were interrupted by a loud clack from across the hall. The Princess whipped her head around to see a woman in full parade armour dismounting a horse, a monstrous mace in her hand. The knight was enormous, easily twice as wide as Bridget and more than a foot taller. 

Amaryllis’ heart immediately began to throb uncontrollably in her chest. The emotion was so intense, it took her a moment to realize she was panicking. Memories of her father’s knights burning and screaming flared in her awareness, like sparks over the dry kindling of her emotions. She shut her eyes and tried desperately to control her breathing.

She was a princess–soon to be queen. She brought the warm, red light in the center of her chest to the forefront of her mind. She would be safe. Back straight, chest out, shoulders back. She breathed out. She breathed out and opened her eyes. 

The knight’s armor was strange. Her helmet was crowned with a single long white antler that branched onto a twin pair of points. The metal was iridescent blue and shimmered in the light, like the shell of a beetle. From beneath each plate extended course bristles of black hair. The fur and the warrior’s considerable bulk had the effect of making her seem like some enormous animal barely contained beneath her armor. 

As the knight approached, Amaryllis’ heart began to pound again. Everything in her screamed for her to run–to sprint and find somewhere to hide. She tried to overpower herself. The knight was–she could almost convince herself–rather absurd. Amaryllis had seen boar hair mantles and fur trimmed cloaks, but never fringe beneath each plate of a suit of armor. The poor brute must be miserably hot, not to mention the terrible weight of it. The warrior must be terrifically strong. Amaryllis tried to ignore her steadily increasing heart rate. 

As the knight approached, Amaryllis’ eyes stayed glued to the mace in her right. There was also, she noted, a field marshal’s baton in her left. 

When the knight closed the distance, she climbed the dais, kneeled before Her Majesty, and placed her mace on the ground in front of The Queen–each action precise and assured. The baton, Amaryllis noted, remained in her left hand. Looking up, she spoke in a booming voice from deep in her chest. “Gracious Aesidhe Queen, Mistress of the Sonnenblume Court, your servant begs your welcome.”

Queen Leana looked down on the kneeling knight below her, “Lady Cliona of The Stechbaum Court and Knight of the Realm, it is a joy for Your Queen to see you return again. Tell me, is it done?”

The kneeling woman reached up to her helm. As the knight lifted the visor and parted the cheek plates, Amaryllis noticed that the entire iridescent surface of her armor was covered in relief patterns of snowflakes, holly, and pine cones. 

Lady Cliona carefully lifted the helm directly up and tucked precisely into the crook of her arm to avoid spearing herself or The Queen with the horn. As she removed the helm, the knight shook her head and an enormous mane of bristly black hair extended down her back and shoulders. Her face was pale white tinged with blue. A fresh, jagged scar ran down the woman’s right cheek. Rippling dark-blue flesh ran along the cut’s wide edge. 

Amaryllis gasped, but the two older women ignored her. 

Cliona's wide mouth split into an ecstatic grin, revealing four long, wedge-like incisors running along her jaw. Tucking the baton into her hand next to the helm, she gestured with her free hand, pointing out the scar’s length to the queen. “It was no easy thing. Your sister’s pets were not pleased to see me again, but it was a joy to serve.” Cliona’s too-large, almond eyes never left The Queen’s. Amaryllis’s gaze flicked between the warm gold of The Queen’s eyes and the icy white-blue of Cliona’s. 

The Queen leaned down from her throne and, extending a long, thin arm, ran a finger along the kneeling woman’s jaw, just below the deep gash. Amaryllis’ eyes widened as she saw the knight shudder at the touch. “You always serve so beautifully, Lady Knight.” Bending further forward she planted a kiss on Cliona’s forehead. At that, the knight closed her eyes, a look of rapture on her face. The Queen was silent for a long moment, smiling gently as she looked down upon Cliona. Finally, she spoke, “And what did my sister say?” 

Cliona glanced at Amaryllis then, seeming to see her for the first time.

Amaryllis flinched in fear. Cursing herself, she tried to maintain her posture. 

Cliona slid her eyes from the princess’ toes to her face. Their eyes met, and all the joy drained from the Knight’s face in an instant. Before Amaryllis could make anything of the expression, Cliona was looking back up at Leana, her eyes instantly wide with admiration again. “Your sister says she will support you if the creature’s claim is true.” Cliona’s brow furrowed. “Is this right though, My Lady? Working with that viper’s spawn? And a mortal no less?” 

The Queen nodded gravely. “The risk is great. I can say that I have assayed her thoroughly in her short time as my ward. She is not without flaws, but I believe she has the mettle necessary.” The Queen turned her glowing golden eyes to Amaryllis then. 

Amaryllis felt her cheeks instantly redden. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and drool began to collect behind her lips. She diverted her gaze to her knees and readjusted her legs for fear of her arousal being put on display. 

“Thus far, she has proven herself capable of learning to be tame and pliant.”

Amaryllis shivered at the words, still staring at her knees. 

“I would not, of course,” The Queen continued, “deny my most loyal knight a chance to conduct her own test. I would welcome your discerning eye in this.” There was something playful in The Queen’s voice, like a joke shared between old friends or lovers.

Amaryllis’ eye whipped back to the pair. She caught them sharing a hungry smile that put knots in her stomach. 

As Amaryllis continued to watch, she saw Lady Cliona rise to her full height, leaving her helm and mace at The Queen’s feet. The baton, Amaryllis noted with unease, was still in the knight’s hand. For a long moment the knight observed Amaryllis again. Her eyes trailed along Amaryllis’ shoulders, followed the curve of her breast, and down to her feet. Amaryllis could not be certain, but she thought she felt the knight's eyes linger on her chest. The knight smacked the baton against her right gauntlet with a loud metallic clack. Amaryllis jumped at the noise. “I would gladly appraise this creature.” Cliona turned back to her Queen, “to ensure My Lady’s protection, of course.” 

Queen Leana’s mouth split into a wide grin, revealing rows of narrow incisors, “Of course.” The Queen nodded. 

Lady Cliona climbed down the dais stairs and stood a few paces off, directly in front of the Queen’s throne. Tucking the baton under her shoulder, the knight untied her right gauntlet and slowly pulled the leather of each finger until it was loose enough to pull free. She dropped the gauntlet with a loud clatter on the ground behind her. Placing the baton back in her left hand, she pointed firmly at the floor beside her and snapped loudly with her right hand. “Here, girl.”

Amaryllis’s eyes went wide. None but Castle Ohg’ir’s lowliest servants would ever be called in such a manner. Ignoring the burning in her cheeks, she pursed her lips and swallowed hard. She looked over to The Queen for protection or explanation, and found only an expression of cold indifference and a raised eyebrow. Her heart dropped and panic began to pour into her veins. 

“Girl!” Lady Cliona barked, louder this time. “Are you deaf? I said here.” 

Amaryllis stood. She was lightheaded, and the world around her reeled and spun. She managed to descend the dais’ stairs without tumbling face first into the opalescent floor, and came to stand beneath the towering knight. At a distance, Amaryllis had been impressed with the knight’s bulk, but standing beneath her, Amaryllis felt like a rabbit asked to wait meekly next to a wolf. The Princess had to crane her neck to meet Cliona’s gaze.  

Glancing at the baton, she noted the same holly and snowflake pattern on the knight’s iridescent armor was woven in silver into the dark blue fabric of the rod. Each end was capped with a rounded silver pommel. Cliona’s hand tightened around the baton’s grip as Amaryllis watched. She glanced up into the knight’s glowing blue-white eyes and shivered. 

Amaryllis diverted her eyes to the floor as her cheeks reddened. She crossed her arms over her breasts and pressed her thighs together. She felt cold and exposed. 

Cliona extended a finger under Amaryllis’ jaw and forced the girl to look up into the knight’s eyes. “What is your name?” 

Amaryllis clenched her jaw. She closed her eyes for a moment and located the warm red light at the center of her chest. She straightened her back, lifted her shoulders and chin, and opened her eyes again to meet the taller woman’s gaze. “I am the soon-to-be High Queen of the Sinnach Empire, Princess Amaryllis, heir to the line of Lord Sinnid the Red and Queen Elatha of the Fey.” Amaryllis stated firmly, managing to keep her voice from quaking. 

Cliona laughed. “You do play royal well, creature!” Cliona nodded approvingly. 

Amaryllis’ eyes narrowed at the knight’s choice of words, but she did feel relief at not being scolded again. 

Cliona’s eyes narrowed in turn, and she stood back to scan Amaryllis’ body again. Extending her baton, she pushed at the crook of Amaryllis’ arm. 

Amaryllis’ blush deepened. She wanted to protest–to screech, to accuse this lecherous knight of violating her–but The Queen’s warning came to mind again. She let her arms drop to her side. 

Cliona raised an eyebrow and smiled as she looked over Amaryllis’ breasts. The towering woman’s eyes wandered down the curve of the small woman’s belly and between her legs. The knight’s smirk deepened. “My Lady,” Cliona called out as she turned back to the dais, “you did not mention she was moontouched.”

Amaryllis’ cheeks were burning now. “My body is none of your business, knight!” The Princess spat. She slammed a slippered foot on the floor. The unimpressive plop that met her ears no longer surprised her.  

Cliona’s gaze whipped back to Amaryllis, and her left arm swung, swift as a viper. The padded grip of the baton landed heavily on Amaryllis’ left bicep. 

Despite the padding, pain bloomed across Amaryllis’ left arm. The small woman shrieked in pain and stumbled backward, just managing to stay standing. She attempted to cradle her arm against her chest, but Cliona’s baton was against the crook of her left arm again in an instant, pushing it down her to her side. 

Terror was pounding in her head again, now. Every time she glanced at the baton, she had to fight her body’s urge to recoil as memories of her uncle’s swords lunged at her. 

Barely able to take more than shallow breaths, Amaryllis turned to look up pleadingly at Queen Leana. Her heart ached to be in The Queen’s arms again. She wanted to beg for protection. The older woman atop her throne only looked down on her with indifference, her eyebrow still raised expectantly. 

Amaryllis let her arm fall again, this time throbbing with pain. She turned to look up at the towering woman leering down at her. She considered that as her knight, Cliona was something of an extension of Queen Leana’s own will. If Her Majesty wanted the blows to stop, surely they would. There was something simultaneously soothing and terrifying in that thought.  

“If you wish to remain My Queen’s ward, and have any sense at all in that little head of yours you will keep a respectful tongue in your mouth.” Cliona hissed looking down at Amaryllis. As she spoke, she pressed the tip of the batton first into Amaryllis’ shoulder and then into the small of her back, silently instructing her to stand erect. 

When the girl did not speak, Cliona extended her baton beneath Amaryllis’ jaw and forced the small woman to look up into her eyes. “Do you understand, girl?” 

Craning her neck to stare into the knight’s glowing eyes, Amaryllis felt dizzying, cold panic fill her head again. She nodded. 

Cliona’s too-large eyes narrowed above a growing smirk. “Are you dumb and deaf? Speak, girl.” Cliona demanded. 

Amaryllis opened her mouth, but no words came. She saw the baton twitch and forced the words from her chest, “I understand. I will speak to you with respect.” Amaryllis whimpered.

There was another viper-quick strike to Amaryllis’ arm. It was a lighter blow than the last, and Amaryllis kept her arms from recoiling too much. Her head spun and a tear slipped down her cheek. 

“Lady Cliona or syr,” the knight corrected firmly, staring down at the girl. The narrow smirk and leer unchanged. 

“I will address you with respect, Lady Cliona,” Amaryllis acquiesced, her voice quivering. 

Cliona’s smirk widened into a smile over her long hooked incisors. She prodded Amaryllis’ shoulder again, correcting the small woman’s shrinking shoulders. “Good, you were taught manners and due deference as a child, were you not?” Cliona asked, her voice still icy and hostile, despite the smile. 

“I was, syr.” Amaryllis responded instantly. She drew in a deep breath, remembering her mother’s stern face. She had of course received endless hours of training on etiquette–every code of conduct and every custom practiced across her father’s holdings in The Four Kingdoms. The Sidhe Courts of The Otherworld had not been the topic of any lectures she remembered, but she could improvise. Cliona was her better here; the rest was all flourish and style. She pushed back her shoulders. 

“I would not know it from your behavior, but I shall allow you a chance to correct your miserable first impression,” Lady Cliona said, her voice softening a little. “You have asked My Lady for her protection and care as you seek to reclaim your crown?”

“I have, syr.” Amaryllis responded, her voice firm now. She kept her gaze ahead, toward The Queen on the dais, and tried to ignore Cliona’s icy gaze. 

“And what was asked of you in return for My Lady’s gracious boon?”

Amaryllis’ cheeks reddened as she remembered the conversation. “My obedience,” she realized. She remembered herself in this room, sobbing in The Queen’s arms agreeing to listen to everything The Queen said without question. Her heart sank. She was such an idiot child. She had made a deal with a fey queen and the princess’ end of the promise had been everything. 

“Good!” Lady Cliona boomed approvingly. She leaned down so her mouth hovered above the small woman’s ear and their gazes looked up in parallel at The Queen. “My Lady deserves no less,” the knight whispered. Lady Cliona’s icy breath caused the small woman beneath her to shiver.  

As the knight stood above her again, Amaryllis noted a deepening blue in the woman’s cheeks. For a moment, she felt envy. She wanted that same ecstasy of serving The Queen’s. That thought did terrify her. 

Pressing the baton into the girl’s shoulder more forcefully, Cliona hissed, “Keep straight or you’ll earn another blow.” Smiling, the knight resumed her previous happy tone, “I wonder, though. Why were you without protection? Wandering through these woods?”

Amaryllis forced her back to be straight. “My uncle Murdoch overthrew my father. My uncle’s men have been hunting me and every other member of my family in an attempt to secure his false claim to the throne.” Amaryllis replied. She felt her pulse quicken as she reminded herself of the danger that was waiting for her. 

“And you made it all the way here by yourself? No servants or retainers of any kind?” Cliona asked, skepticism clear in her voice. 

Amaryllis’ quickening pulse began to pump cool panic into her veins. She saw Bridget kneeling in the mud of the gully, tears on her cheeks. She wanted to heave. “No, syr,” she managed to reply, her voice breaking again. 

“‘No, syr,’ what?” Cliona asked in a mocking imitation of the girl’s voice, high and quavering. She rapped the baton against her right palm. “Explain.” 

Amaryllis jumped at the noise. “No, Bridget delivered me from the Castle. She brought me here.” Amaryllis felt the blow before she saw it. Throbbing pain bloomed across her left arm again. 

“You will use my title or that arm will be a bloody pulp by the time we are done,” Lady Cliona warned. 

Amaryllis looked up at The Queen, tears in her eyes now. Please, she mouthed wordlessly. She wanted desperately to feel the buz of The Queen’s voice in her ear and the golden sweetness on her lips again. 

Queen Leana’s expression had changed. She smiled hungrily, watching the girl silently. 

Amaryllis’ heart dropped, and her chest felt like it would collapse under its own weight. Tears welled in her eyes. She turned back to Lady Cliona’s cold glare. “My apologies, Lady Cliona.” Amaryllis pushed back into the memories, a numb tingle falling over her. “The castle defenses were breached. We saw most of my father’s knights murdered by the Fion fighting for my uncle. They…” Amaryllis felt her voice catch as she remembered what the warriors had done when they had cut a path through the defenses amassed behind the main gate. She couldn’t bring herself to put it to words. 

She remembered Bridget running to her, scooping The Princess up in her arms. “Bridget rescued me. She found a horse, and drove it for a day and a night. She brought me to the ruins of a small village at the edge of The God’s Wood.” Amaryllis, already dizzy remembering the terror she had felt fleeing the castle, felt a sharp pang of guilt at the memory of the village. “It,” she hesitated and clenched her jaw. “It had been burned to the ground, so we ventured into the forest hoping to find refuge, syr.” 

Amaryllis looked up into Cliona’s glowing icy gaze again. A stab of panic ran through her. The knight would know there was more. She flinched, expecting another blow of the baton. 

Cliona nodded thoughtfully. “That is more believable than a thing as soft as you making it here alone.” Cliona extended the baton toward Amaryllis, causing her to flinch away, but the knight’s reach was easily long enough to extend the baton beneath the girl’s breast and give it a light tap. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send it jiggling. 

Amaryllis’ cheeks burned and her eyes went wide. She knew she should feel angry at the violation, but after expecting a strike, she felt nothing but relief. She forced her posture to straighten, and shuddered. She tried to remind herself of the game she needed to play. Cliona was her better. “Thank you, syr.” 

Cliona’s eyes and grin widened. “You might prove yourself worthy of My Lady yet,” the knight boomed approvingly. “I wonder though, who is this Bridget, and where is she now?”

Amaryllis blinked realizing she had not explained. “My apologies, Lady Cliona. Bridget is–was a household knight charged with guarding my father and his family. I do not know where she is now. Somewhere in The God’s Wood, I would imagine.” 

Cliona cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, “Why is she not with you?”

Amaryllis felt sick, the numbness was rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. She was tired of the waves of fear and guilt and exhaustion. She longed for the oblivion of The Queen’s embrace. “She…” Amaryllis swallowed, her tongue fat in her mouth. “Motivated by lust, she attacked my royal person, so I degraded and abandoned her, syr.” Amaryllis’ eyes were cast down to the floor, attempting to bore through the opalescent stone. 

“Is that so?” Lady Cliona’s voice came from above her, cold and hostile again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out the knight’s fading smile. Every muscle in Amaryllis’ body tensed at the tone, but she fought to maintain her posture. “Yes, syr.” 

“I do not believe you.” 

Terror ripped through Amaryllis, and her eyes flew to Cliona’s white-blue gaze. “What?” Realizing her mistake, Amarylli’s eyes went wide. “I,” she stammered seeing the baton twitch, “I do not understand, syr. I apologize.”

Cliona smiled, but there was a hungry violence in her expression. “Tell me. Is it not true that the Sinnach family uses magic to ensure the obedience of its servants? Do they not condition them from an early age?” Cliona asked. 

Amaryllis’ heart throbbed painfully. That was a family secret, something she had been taught to keep in confidence since she was a little girl. There was another loud smack and pain bloomed again across her left arm. It throbbed maddeningly, and tears immediately welled in Amaryllis’ eyes. Without thinking, she hunched into herself. The pain felt like it was radiating from her bone. 

There was another blow, and Amaryllis staggered, before forcing herself to resume her posture.

“Please, Your Majesty,” Amaryllis cried out at Queen Leana above her. “I beg your protection!” 

The Queen sat impassively above her. 

“I asked you a question, creature,” Cliona stated, her voice icy and firm. 

Amaryllis felt a denial forming on her lips. She saw her mother’s bored disapproving face in her mind, and the baton rap on Cliona’s gauntlet. A cry of fear escaped her lips. She was a disappointment after all. “Yes, syr,” Amaryllis gasped. “It’s true.” 

Cliona hummed approvingly. “And this Bridget, she was subjected to the same bondage?” 

“Yes, Lady Cliona,” Amaryllis whimpered, desperately keeping her back straight, tears flowing down her cheeks. Her chest shook with a barely contained sob. 

“Disgusting practice.” Cliona remarked with revulsion. “Hardly surprising for the mortal spawn of Elatha’s vile line. You’ve certainly inherited her moral character.” 

Amaryllis met Cliona’s icy gaze and saw her cold sneer. She knew she should feel insulted and angry, but she felt only disgust in herself. Her heart sank. She had failed her mother. Perhaps she was disgusting. Her mother had always insisted that power and secrecy were necessary for her family’s survival, the alternative was death. The memory of Bridget crying and looking up pleadingly at her swam into view again. She wanted to jump from a tower window. 

Amaryllis looked up and saw Cliona smiling hungrily up at The Queen. Following the knight’s gaze, she saw Her Majesty returning the expression from above. 

“You know the same magic. You worked it over this Bridget. Controlled her.” Cliona stated simply, turning back down to Amaryllis. 

She felt the impulse to scream, to deny it all, to demand this knight beg forgiveness for treating her this way. The impulse flared and died. “Yes, syr,” Amaryllis agreed flatly. Her head spun. Her Majesty wanted this. If being struck and interrogated pleased Queen Leana, she would bear it for another chance at the ecstasy of Her Majesty's touch. Anything to relieve the dizzy numbness. 

“So why then would this knight–so thoroughly conditioned and under your direct control–attack you?” Cliona asked, placing the baton beneath Amaryllis’ jaw to force her to keep the knight’s gaze. 

“I made her desire me, syr. I made her want me more than anything.” Tears were flowing down Amaryllis’s cheeks, but she felt cold and distant, a little dizzy. “And she failed to resist her urges.” Amaryllis added. The words sound dumb and hollow even to her own ears.  

“Disgusting.” Lady Cliona’s voice was venomous. “You played with this knight’s mind? And then you lied to me?” 

“I,” Amaryllis felt dizzy, Cliona’s questions turned uncertainly in her mind. “I lied, sir?” she asked, fear beginning to gather in the back of her mind. 

“Yes,” Cliona stated firmly, “you said Bridget attacked you, as if it was without provocation–as if the knight could be blamed. That was a lie was it not?” 

“But she,” Amaryllis saw the baton twitch and flinch back. “It was a lie, Lady Cliona,” she admitted. She felt an odd relief at that. The dizzy fog that had settled over her did not abate, but hearing her words did bring some small measure of relief. “Bridget only did her best to protect me.” Tears were flowing down her cheeks openly now. Her lips quivered and her arms shook. 

“Well done, treasure,” came Queen Leana’s approving coo from the dais above. 

A wave of relief and pleasure flooded over Amaryllis then. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she murmured. 

“My Queen is too generous.” Lady Cliona hissed. “You lied. You have already betrayed the trust Our Queen has placed in you once today. What is more, you have lured her into supporting your claim to a throne you plan to abuse!” Lady Cliona hissed. 

This time Amaryllis did see the blow. Lady Cliona raised the baton high in the air and brought it down heavily against the outside of her thigh. This time the sliver pommel, not the padded grip, landed on Amaryllis. The smaller woman cried out in pain. Her entire leg went numb, and she drew it to her body. Slipping under her weight, she fell heavily onto the stone floor. Through sobs, she looked up at Cliona in confusion. “What? I have not! I would not!” 

“Liar!” Lady Cliona hissed again. “You and your kind have used your magic to control your sworn servants for generations. Is that not so?” 

“Yes, yes, it is, syr. I am sorry, syr.” Amaryllis tried to scramble back in fear, but her arms were only able to drag herself a few inches as her numb leg kicked uselessly.

“‘Yes, yes,’ what, creature? Explain.” Cliona repeated Amaryllis’s words in the same mocking imitation. 

Amaryllis’ eyes went wide searching Cliona’s face. She wasn’t sure what to say and found no answer there. “I…”

Cliona stepped forward and brandished the baton. 

“Lady! I would have continued what my mother had taught me, syr.” As the words left her mouth she wondered at them. She had never considered what she would do as queen. Everything in her life had been a necessary and unavoidable step toward inheriting the crown, but she had never been asked what she would do when given power. Would she have blindly repeated what her mother had trained her to do? Her heart sank, what evidence could she give that she would have done differently. 

Cliona nodded. “A second lie. You’re a pretty gem at first glance, but I can see how deep your faults run. You need an ungentle hand capable of grinding them out of you.” 

Cliona closed the gap between them. Amaryllis tried to push herself back again, pain now flaring in her thigh as she moved, but Cliona was on her in a stride or two. The knight reached down and wove her right hand through Amaryllis’ hair near the scalp and gripped hard. Amaryllis gasped and blushed. The taller woman lifted, forcing the girl to scramble to get her knees under her–fighting her spasming thigh all the while. 

“You would inherit your foremothers’ evil in My Lady’s name?” Cliona barked, glaring down at the girl. 

Amaryllis trembled, crying. “Please, syr. Please, Your Majesty. I am sorry. I beg forgiveness. Please.” 

“And you will have it,” Queen Leana said. Her voice was soft and warm, like rays of summer sun in the dead winter cold. “After,” the qualification made Amaryllis’ heart drop out of her chest, “you assuage my knight’s concerns.” 

Amaryllis looked up into Lady Cliona’s glowing white eyes. She could feel her lower lip quivering. 

“What else have you been hiding?” Cliona barked down at her, baton still raised in her other hand. 

“I do not know, syr,” Bridget cried, openly weeping now. 

“Liar,” Cliona bellowed.

“I,” Amaryllis’ eyes spun searching for some answer. “I betrayed my family. I left Bridget.” A heavy sob broke out of her chest, and she began to convulse. “I left her. I,” her words were drowned out in another wave of sobs. 

“Swear to My Lady that when you take the crown, she will rule as regent until we can be satisfied that you have unlearned the vile ways instilled in you by your poisoned line.” 

The Queen’s voice came from above again, “A fair request. Swear that you will listen to your betters. Defer to our judgement over the lies you have been taught, and you can have your throne.” 

Amaryllis attempted the nod, but only pulled uselessly against Lady Cliona’s iron grip. “Yes, Your Majesty. I promise. You will have the regency. I will trust your wisdom over my own. I am sorry I am such a monster.” 

Lady Cliona released her grip on Amaryllis and the girl fell stumbling onto the stairs of the dais. The girl looked up desperately at The Queen above her. She saw a smile there and waves of relief and euphoria poured over her. She was pleasing. 

The Queen extended her hand toward the prostrate girl. “Come here, little one. You have done so well. I would reward you.” 

Amaryllis’ heart pounded in her chest. She scrambled toward The Queen with such haste that she never fully stood. Kneeling at Her Majesty’s feet, the girl looked up at the older woman in awe. “Please, Your Majesty. I am sorry. Please.” Waves of anxiety were still crashing through her. 

Without the least bit of urgency, The Queen ran her index and middle finger along Amaryllis’ jaw, watching as the younger woman shuddered at the touch. “All is well, treasure. You have sworn to make amends for what you have done. That is all that matters now.” Her fingers finished their arc, and The Queen rested the tips of each against Amaryllis’ mouth. 

Amaryllis looked up into The Queen’s golden eyes. The need growing in her mouth was beginning to push everything else away.  

 The Queen nodded. “Yes, you remember. Do you not, treasure? Would you like to feel me inside you again?” she cooed.

The warm buzz of The Queen’s voice quickly melted all that remained of Amaryllis’ anxieties and worries. The Queen was happy. What else mattered? Remembering that she was asked a question, she nodded dumbly causing The Queen’s fingers to slip into her mouth. Her cheeks were burning in an instant, and she began to suck gently on The Queen’s hooked nails without thinking. 

“Uh huh, not yet,” The Queen scolded lightly, pulling her fingers from the girl’s mouth. The Queen’s nails caught the girl’s lower lip and flicked them against Amaryllis’ teeth with a wet slap. “You have been so pliant and tame today, just as you promised, but we must not rush.” From the belt of her dress, The Queen pulled a dagger and held it up before Amaryllis. 

The younger woman cried out in distress and recoiled. Terror and confusion washed back through her. She had been good. She had done as she was told. 

“Shh,” The Queen hummed, turning the dagger to her index finger. “The blade is for me, not you.” She reopened the cut on her index finger and another thick bead of gold quickly formed at the tip. She sheathed the dagger and turned her finger toward Amaryllis’ mouth. “This is for you.”

Amaryllis felt herself salivate in response. She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue dumbly. She could feel her drool run down its length. 

The Queen laughed mockingly at her. “There is my good eager treasure. You are deserving of a reward, aren’t you?” 

Before Amaryllis could speak or nod, The Queen slid her fingers over the younger woman’s waiting tongue and into her mouth. Amaryllis spasmed and moaned loudly as the sweet dew coursed through her. All the lingering pain in her arm and leg, all the guilt and fear of her past, the threat of death, evaporated in the pleasure. 

The Queen cooed and laughed, slowly running her fingers in and out of the girl’s mouth. “That’s right. You can feel it again, can’t you, treasure? Feeling the pleasure of having me inside you again.” 

Amaryllis shuddered as she felt the waves of pleasure ripple outward from her mouth. Without thinking, Amaryllis began rocking her head back and forth. She tried to relax her jaw and throat; she wanted more of The Queen inside her, as much as she could take–enough that there wouldn’t be anything left of The Princess inside her.  

“There’s a good girl,” The Queen cooed. “Feeling the pleasure of each thrust inside you.” The Queen was sneering down at Amaryllis as drool ran down her jaw, but the younger woman couldn’t bring herself to care. “All the way to the hilt,” The Queen instructed, pushing her fingers deeper. 

Amaryllis moaned loudly as waves of pleasure cascaded through her. She felt one of The Queen’s hooked claws scrape against her tongue, and she gagged as she rocked forward into The Queen’s thrusting fingers, but she did slow her pace. She was lost in the pleasure of being filled and the sweetness of The Queen’s syrup. 

“You are too quick to reward this creature,” came Cliona’s gruff voice from behind Amaryllis. Amaryllis felt the towering woman behind her lift the skirt of her sheer gown and flip it onto her back. 

Amaryllis realized she was leaning so far forward into The Queen’s thrusts that her ass was fully presented to the knight behind her, and her painfully stiff womanhood was bouncing between her legs.

She moaned loudly into The Queen’s fingers in protest and looked into Her Majesty’s eyes pleadingly. The Queen had promised her protection. She was safe as long as she was tame and pliant. Amaryllis searched the monarch’s eyes for reassurance.

The Queen was looking past Amaryllis at the knight standing behind her. The same hungry smile was back on the older woman’s lips. “Shhh, treasure.” The Queen cooed down at Amaryllis as Her Majesty's hand absentmindedly cupped the younger woman’s jaw with her free hand. “Remember, you are here at the pleasure of your betters. Lady Cliona can have you in any way she wants.”

Amaryllis heard Lady Cliona spit behind her and felt slick fingers begin to massage and circle her hole. Cliona’s fingers were icy to the touch, and Amaryllis tensed at the touch. She whined again, louder, still imploring The Queen with her eyes. 

“There’s a good girl.” The Queen cooed, unperturbed. The Queen turned her glowing gaze to the girl at her feet. “See how tame and pliant you can be?”

The wash of golden light flowed through Amaryllis. As long as she was pleasing to Her Majesty, nothing else mattered. Relaxing her muscles, she extended her throat and lifted her ass further. 

There was a low chuckle from behind her. “It is an eager little thing, isn’t it?” Cliona asked. For a moment the knight’s fingers slid away, and Amaryllis heard the taller woman spit again. When the towering woman’s finger returned, it slipped immediately inside Amaryllis. 

Amaryllis blushed furiously and moaned, high and loud. The shock of cold inside her, quickly faded into a pleasant tingle. For a time she let herself become lost in pleasure. Rocking back and forth on the women’s fingers, suspended on a cloud of euphoria between them, she could not bring herself to think or care about anything else. 

Looking up into The Queen’s face, Amaryllis’ heart fell as she noted that The Queen was looking past her to Cliona again, but the younger woman’s distress quickly melted. The Queen was smiling. She was pleased. Ripples of pleasure ran down Amaryllis’ spine as she sucked desperately on Her Majesty’s fingers. 

There was noise behind her, metallic clanks and rustling cloth, but they passed through the girl’s mind unnoticed. 

Amaryllis felt her thighs begin to quake and spasm. She moaned again, and looked up at The Queen for approval. The Queen’s sneer shone down over her. For a moment she felt rapture begin to ripple through her. 

Suddenly, there were thick fingers weaving through her hair. With a yank, she was pulled away from The Queen’s fingers and onto her knees–turned to her right so she could see both The Queen and Lady Cliona. Amaryllis hung, her knees just floating off the ground, suspended in Cliona’s grip. Reflexively, she reached down to support herself with hands and felt her finger tips drag uselessly against the stone below her. 

She whined loudly, her mouth painfully empty. Her tongue extended, desperate for more of Her Majesty. Amaryllis’ eye flicked wildly between the pair. The Queen had assumed a relaxed pose on her throne, settling in to watch her knight play with her treasure. Lady Cliona, meanwhile, stood, stance wide, the front of her trousers and braise open, a nest of dark bristles exposed between her legs. Amaryllis’ eyes went wild with the realization. 

“You think a monster like you deserves My Lady’s love?” Cliona laughed at Amaryllis’ reddening cheeks. “You get yours when I am satisfied.” Cliona pulled again and shoved Amaryllis, face first, between her legs. 

Amaryllis felt Cliona’s bristly hair chafe against her face. She gasped in shock and felt her nose fill with the knight’s heady musk. The familiar sour-sweet smell of being between a woman’s legs hit her first, but there were also warmer notes of roasting nuts and something sharper above that. Feeling herself beginning to turn in the air as she slowly spun in Lady Cliona’s grip, Amaryllis managed to get her feet under her.  Without thinking, she pushed down on her feet and pressed her face deeper, drawing in another breath. 

Cliona’s booming laugh came from above her again, and the woman shook her hard by the hair. “Wanton, isn’t it!? Go on, get to work, monster.”

Amaryllis balked at the words. The haze of euphoria The Queen had given her broke for a moment as she remembered Bridget and the burned village. She did not want to think about being a monster.

Amaryllis fought away the thoughts, pressed her face back into the prickling bush of hair, and found Cliona’s slit with her nose. Pushing into the towering woman she began to lick, gently at first. Cliona was icy on her tongue, like cool mint mixed with sweet berry and the same warm roasted scents. She worked more vigorously, pressing her tongue in long eager strokes. She felt a cool numbness spread over her tongue and cheeks as the towering woman’s wetness spread across her face. 

“That’s a good creature,” Cliona growled, pressing Amaryllis’ face harder between her legs. 

Amaryllis could feel the towering woman’s thighs beginning to clench and shake. Shifting her feet further under her, Amaryllis raised her arms and began to explore the woman’s thighs. Starting near her nexus, Amaryllis ran her fingers through the towering woman’s thick hair, weaving it between her fingers as she went. Cliona’s skin was icy to the touch. 

Amaryllis continued to explore outward, licking eagerly all the while–fighting the growing numbness on her tongue–until her hand came to the edges of Cliona’s cuisses. Amaryllis gripped the flesh of each thigh tightly, feeling them spasm and tense. 

“Oh, My Lady,” Cliona gasped, shaking. With a guttural moan, Cliona clenched her thighs hard around the minute girl’s head, pressing Amaryllis’ hands against her neck. 

Pressing back against Cliona’s thighs did not even cross her mind, as Amaryllis moaned as loudly as she could–in distress or pleasure she no longer knew–but the noise was drowned out in Cliona’s bulk and moans. 

Finally, Cliona relented, releasing her grip on Amaryllis and stumbling a pace back. 

Amaryllis collapsed on the floor, her womanhood still pointed upward. Her gaze went instantly to The Queen above her. She saw Leana smile down at her and nod, and a wave of euphoria rolled over her. She was safe. 

“She very clearly likes it, the monster,” Cliona chuckled behind her. 

Amaryllis’ cheeks burned, and she saw The Queen’s eyes narrow. “She is no monster.” The Queen snapped, before returning her glowing gaze to Amaryllis. “The Princess is a treasured object. Why would she not relish being used?” 

“I apologize, My Lady,” the knight said, bowing her head. 

A wave of euphoria crashed through Amaryllis at the words, and she felt herself twitch. Squirming in embarrassment, she rolled her thighs and draped an arm over herself to hide her arousal. She noticed The Queen leering down at her, a smile across Her Majesty’s face. She felt as though she would melt in the heat of The Queen’s gaze. 

Lady Cliona, tying up the front of her trousers, chuckled, “Forgive me for underestimating her. She is indeed a treasure.” The towering woman looked down at Amaryllis and caught her gaze for a moment. “I trust My Lady’s judgement and am satisfied with you. You are every bit as tame and pliant,” Cliona raised her right hand and glanced at her fingers, still glistening from being inside Amaryllis, “as My Lady says.”

Amaryllis’ cheeks burned. 

“We’ll make you The Princess of the Twilight Throne yet.” Lady Cliona announced. 

Amaryllis’ brow furrowed. That was not any name The Throne Ohg’ir was known by, nor any title of hers, as far as she knew. The girl glanced back to the throne The Queen had bid her sit on when they had entered the hall. Her eyes fell on the heraldry on the chair’s toprail, the sword over a crescent moon. 

“Excellent,” Queen Leana announced. “Then all is settled, The Princess Amaryllis is ready for her debut before the entire court tonight at Litha.”