He stands from the table. And I stand at my post. My breathing is regular, my heartbeat normal, but my thoughts are racing.

A little over a year ago, I was brought in as a guard for the palace. I had been a caravan guard before that.

And a rebel, before that.

It has been two years since the sorcerer Varius had stormed into the city council chambers and had declared himself the sole authority of the formerly-senatorial city-state. And he'd backed it up, too. I heard that the first person to stand against him just... died. Instantly. No fire and lightning, no fuss, just a flash from Varius' eyes and the man was gone. Others had to be put to the sword, but most surrendered at that point, recognizing a superior force and resigning their posts.

That's a rumour, of course. Varius was powerful, but the power required to end a person's life with a thought was so much greater than any single person, even someone as mighty as Varius, could possibly wield. I know a few things about magic, though I don't practice it myself, and probably a good thing, too. Sorcerers like Varius don't like a lot of competition.

I travelled with a merchant caravan. I'd heard stories about the conquest, I wasn't around for it, but I was, in general, vaguely against it, in the way that most people are vaguely against a bad government that doesn't affect them directly. And for most people—no, that's not true. For a fair number of people, nothing changed when Varius took control. For some others, they were able to find new work when someone else was purged, or left, either in fear for their life or of further changes to how they make their living. But for those on top of the civic structure, the world was upended, and they were forced to find some way to survive, and many didn't.

The problem was that the civic government was actually quite popular. A number of matters that they were involved with ended, a number of social supports dissolved, the city itself descended into a sort of ... forward-going stasis, where resources that had been planned for public projects and good works were diverted to the war machine, or to Varius' coffers.

The more I saw, the more I disliked it.

On my third trip to the city after Varius' takeover, it wasn't my turn to guard the gear and goods, so I was able to take a small break and pay for the luxury of a bed. I was approached in the tavern, quite cautiously, by a confident young woman, who said I had a certain look, and asked me some very subtle questions about Varius' rule. This was after the great purge, so there was some level of freedom of discussion available to the residents; so long as no one was talking open rebellion, it was safe to express a dislike for the tyrant. I was given a time, and a place, and I met another young woman, a different young woman. I was blindfolded, stripped to my undergarments, taken somewhere I still don't know. Without being able to see, I was interrogated about my loyalties thoroughly, and my history, and I could feel the magic on my skin. I was always aware of magic, more than others, and my grandmother used to say that it was a shame that I wouldn't follow that path, but I never had any interest, and as already noted, sorcerers like Varius tend not to appreciate competition.

I was being tested. I don't know what would have happened if I had failed.

I woke up in the common room in the inn. There was no sign that anything was out of the ordinary, except a headache that was pounding a little more than I would have expected. I rolled to the edge of the bed, careful to be quiet for those still sleeping, and grabbed my light day-bag, heading to the front to request a bath. The innkeeper told me that there was a message for me.

It was another time and place.

I told the innkeeper that I didn't have the time for that bath, which was true, and I made my way quickly across the neighbourhood, to a small convalescent home, where I was quickly shown to an office in the back.

That is where I met Khaleera Amarel, and fully joined the rebellion against Varius.

Three days later, I gave up my post with the caravan for a place in the palace guard, with a recommendation from my prior employer and a bonus for two years of good work. I was not terribly disappointed to leave the nomadic life behind, to gain some stability within the city, the thrill of espionage as an added benefit. My job was simple: guard things. Each month we rotated shift times and locations. My spy work, meanwhile, was once a week to report on those shift times, locations, and other movements within the palace as much as I could to someone whose face I was never permitted to see. When you're working as a spy against a mind-altering sorcerer, the less information you have about who you're reporting to, the safer they are. I was also never told what was important information and what wasn't, so I committed everything that caught my attention to memory.

Two months ago, my rotation became the court. Close to Varius. A good shift for information-gathering. Boring, otherwise; stand by the door, open the door when necessary, keep it closed otherwise, and if things get rowdy, have the mace at the ready.

My first shift began simply. There were some minor matters of state to attend to, some simple negotiations and discussions. Nothing I could really bring to the rebel network. Not until the third hour of my time, nearing the court's break for lunch, was there anything worth reporting.

That was when the side door opened, and three guards walked in with two women. I recognized Khaleera Amarel, who I had only met the once nearly a year before, and did not know the other. Their clothes were rough, and from where I stood they looked tired. Varius didn't seem to pay any mind to the new intrusion, continuing his discussion about roadway maintenance, though some of the members at the table turned before realizing that they weren't supposed to notice and going back to the meeting.

I tried hard to emulate my fellow guard and keep my eyes off the women, but when the meeting concluded, it became impossible.

"Thank you, all," Varius said, rising to his feet. "No one leaves. Ivy."

At the name, one of the women was led forward by her guard, while Khaleera was held gently on the shoulders by another.

"One name."

Ivy stayed silent. So did Khaleera, and the other dozen people in the room. I noticed my fellow door guard watching with interest.

Varius raised a hand. Ivy staggered back as if struck and dropped to one knee.

"One name."

"No." She didn't scream it, or even shout. Just spoke it with quiet certainty.

Varius' hand moved again. Ivy's hands rushed to her throat as if she was choking, but instead, in a single, brutal motion, she grabbed the neck of her shirt and rent her garment in half, the shreds falling quietly to the floor. Topless now, Ivy bent under the magic assaulting her. I could feel it, it sent a chill down my spine. 

Ivy's hands hit the floor. She growled like a dog rearing to attack. I looked to my partner, who just lifted a hand of his own. The message was clear: don't move, don't acknowledge, just do your job.

I did my job, though my eyes went sympathetically to Khaleera, who was looking more than half miserable, her arms crossed against her chest, though I couldn't read the look in her eyes. Her expression suggested that some part of her was enjoying this. I couldn't imagine what she could be enjoying.

I found out later that this had been going on for weeks already. This was routine. Those who were new to the council chamber, myself included, were unsure of what was happening, but since this was a daily matter, it became... almost normal.

That was a terrifying thought.

I also found out that my door guarding partner actually looked forward to the display. He'd been in the room since the two of them were captured and brought to an audience, and he watched eagerly as daily Ivy's naked body was shown to the entire room.

My door guard partner was, is, a pig.

Ivy forced herself back to her feet against the magic, slowly, agonizingly. I was starting to sweat, watching her, gritted teeth, bare chest, dragging herself to her knees and then to her feet, still bowed under the assault, and finally pushing herself up straight. I felt Varius' magic break its hold on her and she nearly collapsed forward, fighting against an energy that was suddenly no longer there. Varius stepped forward to meet her, his hand landing gently on her breast. She didn't react.

"One name."

Nothing.

He touched her cheek. In jerky motion, as if a marionette handled by an inept puppeteer, her arms dragged themselves to her sides, and agonizingly pushed her grey skirt down an inch.

Before it moved any further, Varius' hand was between her legs, stroking her intimately in a way that made me powerfully uncomfortable.

Her hands, and his, continued, and I could see Ivy shivering, either with the cold or with the feeling of Varius' touch, or possibly both. My mind, helplessly, went back to my husband of half a year, to our marital bed. Varius' touch on Ivy's body was shockingly like Karoth's touch on mine, and at that moment I longed to be in his arms, safe and away from... from work, from the torture of this poor woman, from the rebellion, from everything. For the first time in three seasons, I regretted my decision to leave the caravan.

Karoth. Son of a blacksmith, and a smith in his own right. When I met him at the tavern, there had been an instant connection. That night there were a few more connections made. He and I renewed our relationship every time the caravan returned, and when I took work in the city, I found myself staying in his small house instead of in the guard barracks, and only a few weeks later we were pledging ourselves publicly before a small gathering of our neighbours. He knew nothing about my subversive activities.

Ivy's skirt reached the floor. Varius pulled her forward roughly, one hand around her back, the other still between her legs, and I thought how painful that must have been.

"One name."

The sorcerer's voice had not changed. He wasn't bored, but he was neither agitated nor angry. It was a request, simple, straightforward.

Ivy gasped, probably due to the continued ministration, but otherwise said nothing.

Varius stopped, turned her about so that she faced the rest of the room. I could see the trail of her vaginal secretions on her upper thigh. His hand held her by the bottom. Her head was held high. Dignified. Almost imperial, herself.

"One name."

"If pain will not break me, neither will pleasure," she said, and her voice didn't waver an inch. I wondered at what must have happened before.

I felt the shiver and skin-crawling tingle of Varius' magic again, as he pulled her chin up and back and kissed her deeply. I could only feel disgust, and I fought hard not to let that register on my face. When the kiss ended, the sorcerer pushed Ivy, almost gently, and she stumbled but remained upright.

"Take them back," Varius said, and turned aside. "Now, friends, we have one more matter to discuss before we break for a meal..."

My mind couldn't follow the conversation, not then. My eyes tracked the two women and their guard leaving the council chamber, and my mind silently counted their steps back to the servants' quarters; Varius had not seen it reasonable or necessary to build a prison, so from time to time 'guests' from the rebellion were quartered among the servants in locked rooms.

As the room cleared for midday, Varius lingered. My fellow guard and I would be the only people in the room for an hour or so before the afternoon's business. But Varius, instead of ignoring us, approached me.

"You," he said as he crossed the room. "Minea, yes?"

I nodded. "Yes, milord."

He looked to the other guard. "Garum, leave us."

It was Garum's turn to nod, say "Yes, milord," and without hesitation or even a look to me, leave the room.

Varius looked to me again. "You are not comfortable with the display, I fear."

I feigned ignorance. "Display, milord?"

He merely smiled. He seemed to be waiting.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Minea. You are recently married, too, I believe. Within the year."

I nodded. "Yes, milord."

"You will be in this chamber, at your post, tomorrow morning, as usual."

"I will."

"Very good." He smiled and offered me his hand. I felt nothing of the magical chill that I had felt earlier so I took it with no hesitation. "Take the rest of today, spend it with your husband, as you are able. I can tell when a guard's first view of my methods is difficult. There will be no trouble this afternoon, and you need not be here."

"That is not necessary, milord," I said, not wanting to appear weak.

"Minea," he said, seriously. "You are young, you are new-married, you no doubt have some sympathy with Ivy, who is perhaps not dissimilar to yourself. I need my guards working well. This is not a request. You are to take the afternoon to yourself, with my blessing and with full pay. You will be at your post tomorrow morning. Though I warn you," the sorcerer continued, "there will be another audience with them."

"Yes, milord."

"Each day. Until they give way."

I nodded. "Yes, milord."

He turned, then, and without looking at me, said, "Go."

I made myself move unhurriedly.

Before I reported to the guardcaptain, word had already reached her, and all that was left for me to do was to change into my street clothes and make my way home.

I didn't go straight home.

There is a tea-house, two streets from the main road. I went in and ordered orange-leaf Seyldaran, and ordered it cold and with goat's milk and honey, and sat in a specific chair. Before my tea arrived, I felt two blows on the floor through my feet. I waited, and there were two more blows. The signal I was waiting for.

When my mug arrived, I took it with me to a small, dark room in the back. There was a chair there, and a large black curtain.

A soft voice of uncertain character came through that curtain. "Speak."

"I just came from Varius' audience chamber. Two rebels were brought in—"

"We know."

"Khaleera Amarel and Ivy—"

"Yes."

"What should I—"

"Hold your post, continue to report. Why are you here midday?"

"I was sent home by Varius, he says for my own well-being."

"Then go home."

There was silence. I felt alone.

I left my tea in the dark room and went home.

Karoth was of course not at home, nor would he be until sundown, but I had my bed, and I could lie in it.

I shivered, though the afternoon was warm. I pulled off my shirt, in my mind seeing Ivy's torn in half and falling to the ground. I pulled off my own skirt, and lay naked on the covers.

Gods above, since the moment he approached me, I had been so damnably horny. The danger of the moment, being so close to the man that I could have struck him with the mace at my hip, shaking his hand, keeping resolved against his words. It was just the danger of it. Though I had to admit, Ivy did more in those few minutes to challenge the ruling authority than I had done in months of reporting daily activity.

But I had not been caught out. And she had.

I was lying there, quiet, my hands only very gently massaging my sensitive breasts and damp pussy, for some time, just thinking. My eyes alternated between staring at the sun dappling the ceiling through the curtains on the single window, and staring at the darkness of their own making when they were closed and letting my mind replay what I had witnessed in the audience chamber. How I could be so... cold, in the room. How my contact for the rebellion could be so cold about one of their own held imprisoned. How Varius could be so cold as to ... do any of that, and how so many witnesses could coldly be a part of that... violation.

I needed some warmth.

I think I slept, but if I did, I remembered no dream. The sun slowly made its way across our ceiling, and the room grew dark, and I found myself unwilling to move. Karoth came home and found me like that.

I told him nothing, except how much I hungered for him, and how ready I was for his touch.

I had had the afternoon of rest. He had been working, and working well, for the whole day. And yet, he didn't seem to care. His clothes pooled on the floor and his thick, heavy, sooty body was pressed against me. I could taste the smoke and iron of his workshop on his skin, on his lips, even on his prick as I strove to get him erect and then some, and I didn't stop even as he began the moans and gasps I knew would precede his eruption.

He forced me off him nearly violently, bent me double on the bed, and shoved himself inside my wet slit in just the precise moment his body gave way, and I could feel his warmth spreading through my centre, and it wasn't nearly enough, not for either of us.

I collapsed onto the bed, still desperate, my knees on the ground, my left hand snaking its way between my legs to rub myself in the slickness of our collective juice. Karoth, never one to miss an opportunity, went to the washbasin and started scrubbing his hands. In the time it took him to make sure they were nice and clean, I was very close to my own orgasm, and I felt, more than heard, him crossing the room.

I had been a caravan guard, all in all, for four years of my life, and our personal lives very quickly became entirely public. To a certain point, if you wanted to have sex, you just... had sex. Your compatriots knew who you were with, often heard you, sometimes even saw you in the midst of it. Privacy was neither important, nor expected. Karoth had, and has, never lived outside the city, and his first experiences with me included nervous laughter and attempts to keep himself, and me, quiet.

Those attempts had ended. I didn't, never did, care who knew how much pleasure Karoth brought me, and he had learned to love that.

However, one of the other things we had learned on the road was how important it was to keep things clean, and if he had touched me anywhere near there with filthy hands, it would have shattered my mood.

So, with hands washed, he neither hesitated nor held back, and his damp (but clean) fingers joined with mine, and his other hand put an iron-worker's hand on my shoulder. My face went down into the woolen blanket and I breathed fibre and screamed into the bed—

And my mind filled with the image of Varius teasing Ivy as my knees dug into the ground.

It shook me only a little, and my body didn't seem to much care what my mind was recalling. And of course Karoth had no idea as he swept my convulsing form into his large arms and fell onto his back on the soft mattress, my twitching form on top of him, looking up at the ceiling, the back of my head just under his chin. Laughter mixed with my softer, though now-unmuffled moans of pleasure as he waited somewhat patiently with his arms around my waist for me to calm down enough to start matters up again.

As a larger, bulkier woman, I appreciate a man who is capable of hauling me around. Though not tall, I am broadly-built across the shoulder, and years of physical training have made me muscular. Karoth is built similarly, but taller, and so when I flipped myself over, my toes were beside his ankles, my forehead met his chin, and our genitals aligned perfectly.

I started sliding my hips against him. He was still soft, and would be for a while, but I could still enjoy myself. And I did. And I could tell that Karoth was enjoying it, too. His hands gripped my sides, at once both supporting and binding. I lifted myself up, with my hand on his shoulder, and his hands followed me, one staying on my hip, one harshly grabbing at my breast. I cried out, demanding more, and Karoth provided, even with his cock still being soft, pressing lifting his body to press against me. I could feel his coarse, curled hairs against my sensitive lower lips, and the solid rock he made of his body for me.

He is a simple man in many ways. Uncomplicated. Not unintelligent, not at all, but not seeking out complexities in his life. And when it came to sex, the only complexity Karoth was interested in was whatever brought me the most pleasure. As I moved against the frame he gave me, as his hand teased my nipple, his simple focus on that matter allowed my mind to float away—

Back to the council chamber.

Back to Ivy. And Varius' hand on her breast.

Beneath me, Karoth, my beloved husband, was pushing his body towards my pleasure, and his member was starting to stiffen.

Beyond me, in my mind, was the coldness of everything I had witnessed that day.

I forced it all from my mind. I acted on instinct, I lived on instinct, I shoved Karoth's hands away and listened to his body as he had been listening to mine. I turned around, straddled his chest, and put my hands to work on his slick cock. I wanted it inside me again, and nothing else. His hands, meanwhile, held my thighs, and with gentle care teased my own soaked centre.

It wasn't long before I was riding him, and a second shattering orgasm pulsed through us both, leaving us moaning and embracing and awkwardly, messily, tiredly kissing. Our mutual exhaustion hadn't stopped us from acting, only stopped us from acting competently. And it didn't matter.

We lay there, dozing, as the sunlight vanished entirely, and darkness took us both. In the dark, by the washbasin, my lover cleaned us both with slow, strong hands, which led us to slow, careful adoration in the dark, neither of us searching for a third orgasm, both of us just adoring one another until we slipped into sleep.

He approaches. Varius approaches. He's right across the chamber. I'm trying to grip hard to these memories as I hear his footsteps.

The next day, the only thing on my mind from the time I took my post was the eventual audience with Ivy and Khaleera that Varius promised would be happening. I pushed aside nerves. I was a professional.

Again, I wasn't squeamish in the least about sex. Years on the road had taught me that. I was uncomfortable with the violation of it, the... the rape of this woman happening before me. And yet, she didn't seem to treat it as anything of the sort; she didn't break, she didn't cry, she didn't fight, she just maintained her selfness, her dignity, her resistance and resilience. And Khaleera's reaction, the sympathetic self-defence but the clear admiration and appreciation? Equally baffling.

Had someone drawn a blade during the council meeting, I would have been a mile away, mentally. My mind was on my fellow rebels, not on my work.

Ivy's abuse that day was less involved. Varius did not touch her, did not kiss her; she stood paralyzed and naked for all to see as Varius continued to hold a meeting. After a time, perhaps ten minutes, he interrupted the woman who was speaking.

"One moment," he said, cutting off the administrator trying to argue for greater funding. He turned to the guards near the side door. "Remove them." Ivy lurched into motion as the guard nearest her grabbed hold of her wrist. Varius turned back to the administrator. "Continue."

I heard her stammering, her awkward attempt to reply, but my eyes were locked on the naked captive being led out of the room. I think as the door closed behind them that I saw Varius looking at me, but I couldn't be sure.

Once more, at midday, he lingered. He was looking at a document, a scouting report of some sort. Without looking up, he said, "Garum, leave us."

"Yes, milord," my partner said, and did as he was ordered.

I didn't know why I felt such fear.

"Are you familiar," the sorcerer continued, still not looking up, "with the writings of philosophy?"

I was taken a little aback. "I... milord, I do not read."

He looked up then, a little smile on his face. "No, of course, my apologies." He put the document down. "How did you feel, today, seeing Ivy in such a state?"

"The prisoner?" I pretended not to know exactly what he was talking about.

"Yes, was today's interrogation less stressful?"

"Oh, yes, of course, milord."

"Good." He rose. "And your half-day's break, was it restorative?"

I blushed. "That might be said, yes."

He started walking towards me. "Excellent." He paused at a polite distance. "Do you fear me, Minea?"

My heart went cold and I fought to keep my composure. "Milord?"

"Do you fear me?"

"I..." I hesitated. "Not you, milord. I fear what you are capable of. You are a man of incredible magic, political power, and strength—"

"I think, guardswoman, that you would overpower me, you are clearly quite strong."

"Thank you, milord."

"But yes, I take your meaning." He stepped closer. "I am not personally intimidating, but the power I wield is."

I nodded. "Yes, milord." His closeness felt uncomfortable.

"The philosophical concept that came to mind earlier," he said, "was the largely unacknowledged truth that you cannot know if someone is truly conscious behind their eyes, or if they are just responding as if they are."

I blinked. "I don't understand, milord."

He nodded. "I don't suppose you might. But it is a fascinating subject." He offered me his hand again, and I took it out of habit. "I am glad that your rest did you good. I will send Garum back in. Please have a good afternoon."

"Thank you, milord."

The rest of the day passed without incident, though I was rather caught up in my own thoughts instead of my work, but it seemed like there was no need to pay much mind. When the day's business had ended, I left for home. I considered reporting the day's events, but there was nothing to report. The icy reply I had received the day before made me feel like there was little reason to bother them, and going through the motions to tell them nothing new was taking an unnecessary risk.

Instead I got a good hot meal and made my way home. Karoth met me at the door with a kiss that smelled of iron and sweat, a smell I had not only come to appreciate but had come to enjoy. More than enjoy. The smell of him made me want him, so badly. And he indulged me, as I peeled off my street clothing, and let him softly wash me with a cloth.

And I stood there, naked, and my mind went back to the day's audience. I held still for Karoth's hands, and I tried to let myself feel as Ivy must have, holding still with Varius' magic. I had to break out of the spell, but staying within it meant that Karoth's hands didn't make me turn aside or giggle. He noticed.

I didn't tell him why. I just kissed him and pressed him to the bed, unlaced his trousers and pulled them down just enough that I could slide onto his stiffness and have him fuck the day's troubles out of me.

I could tell myself that I wasn't fantasizing about being the victim of Varius' corrupting force as my love poured himself into me, that it was just something on my mind. Even now, I almost believe it.

He's paused. Varius. He's near, but he's waiting, watching. I think he's letting me think. Maybe it's a mercy. Maybe it's something to be hopeful about.

All that I remember about the third audience is that Varius stayed seated, Ivy removed everything almost without any direction to do so, and crawled on hands and knees like a dog to sit by him as he finished dictating a threatening letter, and then she rose at his direction, fury frozen on her face, and planted her head in his lap.

The sound of her slurping was one of the most awful things I'd ever heard. What made it worse was the fact that Varius' uninterested expression was pointed straight at me. What I had done freely to provide so much pleasure to my husband and myself two nights before, he was forcibly making her do and taking nothing from it.

And I was expected to maintain the door and say nothing. Was expected to treat it as routine, just like the secretary taking his dictation, like the other four guards in the room, like her friend and fellow captive.

The magic involved, too, was so... distressing. Was everyone under his spell but me? I felt like I was going a little mad. Why did no one else care?

I wished I had that same nonchalance over such terror. Even the other rebels seemed so cold.

She hadn't even lifted her head when Varius said, "Go," and Ivy, naked, rose, gave a mocking bow to him, and left with her entourage. The secretary also left, as did Garum, the other door guard, leaving me alone with the tyrant.

He hadn't moved to dress himself, but he was still seated, I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but I knew it was there. His cock was out, no doubt wet and hard and—

He seemed to know what I was thinking. He just watched.

I watched back. A guard, guarding.

It felt far too much like a standoff. He couldn't possibly know that we were enemies. It couldn't be a confrontation.

But it felt like it.

"I think," he said, finally, and far less authoritatively, "that perhaps, you should not be here." His tone was friendly, almost curious.

"Milord?" I asked, a little proud of the way my voice didn't waver.

"Minea." His smile was patronizing. "If you are not suited for the challenges of interrogation, then you perhaps should be elsewhere."

"I... have no difficulty in this, milord."

"Please, Minea. I could see your discomfort most of the morning. You wait intently for the audience with the captives, and then you are deeply unhappy during the interrogation. Even now, you are on edge."

"Thank you for your concern, b—"

He interrupted me. "But those to whom you sell your information would prefer you be in this room, yes?"

I paled. "Milord, I—"

He stood, then, with the first flash of anger I'd seen in him, ever. My eyes were fixed on his. "I do not tolerate lies, Minea. Espionage is a fact of life as a ruler, deception is common, but it is just the two of us here, and you will not lie to me!"

The magic seized me then. I felt it at my throat, squeezing my sides like a vice, forcing the breath from my lungs. I couldn't give reply.

He strode over to me, casually furious. "I will not ask you who you work for. I will not ask you to put your life at risk for such a trivial thing. But if I ask you a question, you will be truthful with me, do you understand?"

I squeaked. The magic loosened enough that I could squeak out, "Yes, milord!" before it let me loose. I fell to my knees. He hadn't laced his trousers, and he was still hard, and it was right before my eyes.

"So then. The truth."

I gasped, and said nothing.

"Are you fit for this work?"

I couldn't lie. I could, but I knew he would know, and then everything would fall apart. "I do not know, milord," I said, pushing myself up from the floor to sit on my heels.

"Good. It is good to accept limitation." Varius turned, pacing. "If you cannot stand the sight of my necessary interrogations, though..."

I scrambled to my feet. "It... it is not that, milord."

"Oh?" He turned to face me.

"It is less the ... interrogation, and more that everyone—you, the other guards, those in the council chamber with you, even the rebel's own companion—everyone is so... so cold about it."

Varius chuckled. "Surely not everyone. You have seen the reactions of those unfamiliar with the situation, such as yourself."

I nodded. "I have, milord."

"It is only routine, only simple routine that makes those of us who are, as you say, 'so cold about it' able to react in that way." He returned to pacing. "I think you envy that coldness some."

"Yes, milord, I do."

He stopped again. "Perhaps, then, you desire routine, more than anything."

"Milord?"

"You were a caravan guard, were you not, Minea?"

I nodded. "Yes, milord."

"And then you took a post here at the palace."

"Yes milord."

"And a lover you had before you moved here, I imagine, whom you then married?"

"That's correct, milord."

"Hm." Varius smiled, now friendly, and the effect was somewhat chilling, especially with his member still in view. "You left the excitement of the road for the stability of the city, a husband, and good work."

I nodded, on edge.

"I can see what it is that you seek, more than anything else," Varius continued, and those words were perhaps the most frightening I could imagine. "Don't worry, Minea. You will be given it."

"What is that, milord?"

He shook his head, finally rearranging his clothing so that he was no longer indecent. "I have other matters to attend to. I'm afraid that will have to do for today." His tone was exactly the tone that he might have used at the conclusion of a business meeting. He began walking to the side door that his prisoners had come in from, and then stopped partway. "Do think about our little philosophy discussion, yesterday." He didn't turn back to me.

"How it is impossible to know if someone is truly conscious?"

"Yes, that's it." I heard his chuckle. "For some, who simply go through the motions day after day, it's definitely a question as to whether they are or not, isn't it? Though we don't seem to have that trouble."

My bones twitched. I didn't say anything more, and neither did he. I stood alone in the room for a good while. I think perhaps that was deliberate, to give me time to mull over what was being said. Or maybe things were just moving slowly that day. It didn't matter.

Part of me wanted to go to the tea house, but there was nothing new to report, except some cryptic messaging sent in my direction. I was compromised, at least in part, though Varius seemed to think I was there to sell information about administrative and military matters, so I wasn't entirely useless as a spy yet. Did the rebellion really need to know that?

A different part of me didn't want to make a report. My heart dropped at the thought that the threat to my own safety would be met with that same coldness I'd heard two days prior. If that would be my fate, I didn't want to know about it. No, it was easier—easiest, even—to just keep up my usual habits: change, get dinner, go home, fuck my husband, rest up.

"And that's what you did," he says, watching me from the corner.

"Yes, milord," I agreed.

I had to reclaim the horror that I had seen in the audience chamber. The moment I walked in the door to see Karoth, I pulled him into the most ferocious kiss I could imagine, and then stripped him of his trousers and shoved him into one of our two wooden chairs, and I fell to my knees and drew him into my mouth. I don't know what he had been doing before, and I didn't care. He hadn't been thinking of sex, and then he had been. And I wanted that to be his routine; that he associated me with adoration, beauty, and eroticism that I wasn't seeing in Ivy's vicious compulsions in her audiences with Varius.

I didn't even notice the shivering in my skin as my tongue ran the length of Karoth's cock.

"Ohh, Min," he moaned. "I don't, nggh, know what's got into you..." He paused as I drew my fingers across his thighs, something I knew he appreciated. "But since you've, mmnm, moved posts..."

I looked up and let him loose just long enough to say, "Expect it to continue."

And then I dug my fingers into his hips and redoubled my efforts until he spilled his delicious seed into my mouth. I drained him of every drop and took it in, desperate for more.

I got more. I got him laying me down in the bed and returning the favour, and then as I lay writhing and gasping, pushing his well-used member deep inside me, bringing us both towards the heights of pleasure again.

That, there, was what felt like the true rebellion. In Varius' oppressive court, sex was a tool, a weapon of control; in my small house, sex was a tool of liberation, a weapon of resistance.

I shiver as he steps closer. My skin is crawling. "I'm sure it felt like that," he says. "But I could tell what you wanted."

"Yes, milord."

My days became sharp contrasts. Ivy's torment, followed by my own liberation, and I could retain nothing else from within the court. I actually intended to make a report, once, in those first days. I thought about it, even made plans to do so, but my feet carried me home to my bed and my husband. So I planned to wake early, go to the tea-house before my turn at the post, but my feet carried me to the administrative palace.

"And that's when you started to realize."

"Yes, milord."

The coldness settled in. If those in the audience didn't care, and the rebellion didn't care, then I should aim for the same, of course. Everything became routine.

Everything.

Even the earth-shattering lovemaking with my husband became more... repetitive. We still made love, nightly, still sought pleasure for and in one another. But it became part of the days blurring together.

I got up. I washed, dressed, went to the food counter, ate the same eggs and spiced potatoes and whatever meat stew had been left over from the night before, went to work, put on my uniform, stood at my post, watched the thorough violation of a prisoner in a detached manner, continued my shift, did my exercises, changed, ignored the urge to make a report, got supper, went home, fucked, and slept.

It was the day that I felt like sleeping late, that it all sunk in. I wasn't hungry. I had made a decision to rest a little longer.

My feet carried me nonetheless.

It was a curious feeling, being overtaken by my routine. At first I thought little of it, just being overtired and going through the motions, and yet...

I wasn't changing. Nothing was changing. I wasn't able to change.

"You tried."

"Yes, milord." He's holding a cup. He hands it to me. I take it. 

"I could see you making the effort, now and again. To say something, or to turn away, or perhaps even to interrupt."

Fear gripped my heart. It didn't show in my voice. "Yes, milord."

"Tomorrow," he says, "everything changes for Ivy and Khaleera. But today, and forevermore, nothing changes for you."

"Yes, milord." I take a sip of the drink he's handed me. Orange-leaf Seyldaran tea, cold, with goat's milk and honey.

"We had that discussion, you recall. We've had it a few times. How there is no way to tell if someone other than yourself is truly conscious."

The taste of the drink lingers in my mouth and my mind. "Yes, milord." It sends chills through my mind that my body can't respond to.

"And how those who go through their routines, day to day, unchanging, unthinking, might as well not be."

"Yes, milord." He is close, now. My whole being is tense with the magic he's wielding. But my voice is the same voice, my response is the same response.

"The answer, Minea, is so simple," he says. He's too close. The thought of striking at him with my mace enters my mind, but the action is so far from my capabilities, so outside my usual thoughts, that I don't even know how. My body won't even listen to my demands to drop the tea. "If you're not going to use that consciousness, why keep it?"

My mind is racing. My body is not. "Yes, milord." I take another sip.

"As you have done for weeks now, so will you continue to do."

He reaches forward. I want to flinch, to move. Anything. I want to cry out as his hand comes towards my cheek.

"Yes, mi