Page 73 of The Sunbound Princess
“Bathe all three of them,” Viraxes ordered.
Chapter
Twenty
DAIN
Damp stone scraped my back as I strained against my bonds. Ropes circled my wrists and ankles, which were attached to wooden planks driven into the wall. My arms stretched above my head. My legs were spread just a little too wide for comfort.
By design, of course. Nothing about this humiliation was comfortable.
Goosebumps covered my bare skin. Stacks of cloth and shallow bowls of scented water sat on tables positioned a safe distance on either side of me. Viraxes’s robed minions had pulled them farther back after I kicked one over.
Two approached me again now, dripping sponges attached to polished sticks in their hands. Steam formed thick clouds of perfumed air as the men drew closer, their eyes wary under their black hoods.
“Try it,” I growled, straining against the ropes. Rage and frustration followed the threat, which was empty, of course. Viraxes’s servants had done whatever the fuck they wanted with me for the past half hour.
I’d taken wild swings at them in the main chamber, connecting with at least two jaws before Viraxes’s menoverwhelmed me. The curse had wrung me out, but it had still taken six of them to take me down. They’d dragged me away while others did the same to Nikolas and Ezabell. I’d lost sight of them as I collapsed under a flurry of fists and elbows. Viraxes’s servants packed an impressive amount of muscle under their robes. One had delivered a particularly brutal punch to my gut, doubling me over. Then he and the others had dragged me to the scented chamber, stripped me, and tied me to the wall.
The men pressed their wet sponges to my skin, rubbing in brisk, circular patterns that left trails of soap and degradation. I jerked away from their touch, rope biting at my wrists and ankles. The men stayed silent, their expressions impassive. One worked his sponge down my chest and into my armpits while the other scrubbed my thighs. When his sponge strayed too close to my groin, I lunged off the wall and snapped my teeth at him.
He jerked back, lifting the sponge away.
“Fuck off,” I snarled, tugging at the ropes. Wood creaked. I darted forward again, trying to catch the man’s sleeve.
“Careful,” another man behind him warned. “He’s trying to take fingers.”
I was trying to take anything I could get, but a finger was fine. Anything to make these bastards regret ever picking up a sponge.
But even as I snarled and fought, worry for Nikolas and Ezabell churned in my gut. Were they enduring the same degradation? My chest tightened at the thought of Nikolas bound and helpless while strangers put their hands on him. Gods, not Nikolas. Not after everything he’d survived.
The “bath” was pure retaliation on Viraxes’s part. He’d lost the Pyrikion, and now he exacted his revenge. He wasn’t content to simply kill us. No, he wanted us defiled first. He’d strip us of every shred of dignity.Thenhe’d kill us.
And I harbored no illusions that he would take our lives. Once he had his fun, he’d dispose of us like garbage.
The only solution was to kill him first—and Corvus with him. The thought of the conniving, traitorous elf crystallized something cold and sharp in my chest. I wasn’t a planner like Nikolas. I didn’t know how to lay a trap and then spring it. But this time, I would find a way.
A servant knelt to wash my calf. Growling, I tried to knee him in the face. Rope bit into my ankle, but the wood behind it let out an ominous squeal. The servant stood swiftly, exchanging a look with his companion.
A new pair approached carrying clay pots. One dipped his fingers inside and withdrew them coated with glistening oil. When he reached toward me, I lunged hard, my teeth bared.
He stumbled back, almost dropping the pot. The other seized my jaw.
“Bring the potion!” he called, and another man plucked a goblet from one of the tables and came swiftly to his side. The goblet was glass, its contents black and oily like the substance that had coated the walls of the tunnel.
“If you don’t stop fighting,” the man holding my jaw said, “we’ll drug you. The master wants you lucid, but he’ll understand the necessity.” He gestured to the goblet. “One mouthful of this, and you’ll do whatever you’re told. Understand?”
I glared at him, chest heaving. Every instinct screamed at me to keep fighting, to make them work for every ounce of shame. But if they drugged me, I’d be helpless. Useless. And Nikolas and Ezabell needed me sharp.
Dragging in a deep breath, I gave a slight nod.
The servant released me and stepped back. “Good.” He motioned to his partner. “Proceed.”
The servants worked quickly after that, thrusting their sponges into every crevice while I did my best to murder them with my eyes. When they were satisfied I was clean, they slathered me with cloying, sweetly scented oil until I reeked like the inside of a pleasure house. Then they cut my bonds and forced me into a tunic so short it barely covered my dick. The thin fabric stuck to my oiled skin. With every movement, it bunched between my buttocks. If I bent over, anyone watching would get an eyeful.
Which was probably the point.
My stomach clenched, but I held still as the servants combed tangles from my hair. Gaze on the far wall, I considered and discarded one plan after another. Maybe the path to freedom lay in winning Corvus to our cause. Not because he was honorable but because he was just as disposable as me and Nikolas. The elvish lordling probably thought his elven blood and stolen crown made him untouchable.
