A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment by Barnette Abigail

Author:Barnette, Abigail
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

After my impressive performances in the garden, Luthian insists I stay tucked away in his house for the rest of the day. I choose to lounge about the library, reading from things that interest me, while he tends to letters and papers at a small desk by the fire.

“What happens if Cassan loses the wager?” I ask.

Luthian doesn’t glance up. “He won’t.”

“How do you know?” I close my book and sit up on the chaise I’ve been draped across for an hour.

“I’m an excellent judge of character and action. And now that he knows that his father also desires you, he’ll cling to his convictions even harder.” He puts an audible flourish on the parchment with his pen, then sets it aside.

I watch as he deftly folds the letter and drips sealing wax upon it. “You have everything planned perfectly, don’t you?”

“I try.” He applies his seal to the wax. “I have a meeting this evening. You’ll be on your own. But you will make an appearance.”

“By myself?” I don’t know why I’m nervous. I went to the king on my own and survived.

“There’s a ritual tonight,” he goes on. “I think you’ll find it entertaining. There is appropriate attire in your wardrobe. Sarta will have marked it.”

“A ritual?” I know of only my mother’s rituals, in which she welcomed the seasons and helped them change all around our manor. She never spoke of group rites.

“Once every season, the court worships the gift of Living Essence. I find it tedious, but others enjoy it.” He pauses. “Obviously, there is group sex involved.”

“Obviously,” I say with a laugh. “How will I know the etiquette?”

“Observe. I trust you’ll be able to pick it up. As I said, it’s tedious. And unimaginative.” He makes a disgusted face.

“And you so conveniently are otherwise engaged,” I point out. “Where and when should I report for this ritual?”

“Follow the crowd from the main gardens when the moon has appeared.” He tucks his letter into his jacket. “Now, I must leave you. Bring me a full report tonight.”

As he passes, he stops, as if without thinking, and drops a kiss on my forehead.

* * * *

Walking through the darkness of the gardens, I adjust my mask so that I can see better. The robes Sarta designed for the ritual are long scarves of transparently thin emerald silk, held into the suggestion of a garment by a tightly-cinched belt of ivory around my waist. My mask is a collection of verdant leaves, splayed across my face like a butterfly’s wings from the bridge of my nose.

I don’t know what I’m meant to be disguising; everyone at court has already heard of the human woman of voracious and adventurous appetite.

The path to the king’s gardens is lit with fires on evenly spaced plinths. I see courtiers moving down the tiers and follow them. Unlike Luthian’s gardens, which seem to stretch on forever, the king’s garden ends abruptly at the tree line of a dark and imposing forest. I’m

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