I rise from the bath. Before I reach the door, perfectly controlled flames dry me off. I snatch a robe from a hook next to the door, tying the sash sloppily as I cross the bedroom to the balcony.

Kierra is seated, a wineglass in one hand and an unfurled letter in the other. I’m used to seeing her in leathers, her preferred armor, but with the recent end of her teaching obligations for the year, she’s been lazing about the house wearing scandalously little. Like now, flashing the world in nothing but her sexy unmentionables, a lacey white number that leaves nothing to the imagination.

I stomp over to the balcony’s railing, scanning the area for perverts skulking about, going as far as to switch to my magnifying “film”. There’s no logical reason to suspect someone might be peeping on us. It’s just one of those things that you feel. Like expecting bad luck after winning big at the gambling tables or preparing for a monster attack when your carriage breaks down. Fate delights in unexpected misfortunes.

Finding the yard pervert free, I turn to my wife just as she puts down her empty wineglass. Her smile is mischievous. “Not even a hello? Mm. My colleagues always grumble about the waning passions of their own loves but I never thought we’d be affected so soon~”

I’ll show you waning passion.

Turning away from the balcony, I take quick strides over to her. She opens her arms as climb into her lap, straddling her thighs. My arms cross behind her neck as I kiss her, moaning softly against her lips as we explore each other’s mouths. Once her hand migrates to my ass, I pull back.

A clear string of drool connects our lips. Kierra doesn’t hesitate to lick it up, eyes hooded with her mounting desire. My new body is as effective as advertised, heh. “Hey.”

“Hello,” she purrs. “Tests didn’t go well?”

“They went fine.” I jump as her hand squeezes my ass and move to get off her. Her arm quickly moves around my waist, holding me still. I give her a look that she returns with a beautiful smile, fingers tickling my side. I reflexively smile, wiggling to escape them. Should have thought to make this body tickle immune. “What makes you think they went bad?”

“You take baths to relax.”

True. A quick shift is far better in terms of getting clean. I even shift when I have the urge to ‘relieve’ myself, avoiding all the mess. Baths are a pleasure, hardly a necessity. “They went fine but something stressful did occur.” You hear that? I actually want to talk so move that questing hand.

She gets the message, the mischievous hand that has been slowly creeping towards my chest falling back down to my waist, though she pouts. It’s almost enough to distract me but the importance of today’s events gives me the strength to rein in my lust for the time being. “Someone’s out to get me again.”

Her playful pout disappears, the news garnering her full attention and a serious frown. “Oh?”

I explain everything again, this time with less indignant anger and more thoughtful consideration. She listens attentively. When I finish, she hums, closing her eyes as she processes the news. “The pet has interesting ideas,” she says after a few moments. “I don’t think those secrets are as damning as she thinks.”

“What do you mean?” The things that family did alone could ruin them. If word of the atrocities and depravities some of those men got up to with their succubi became common knowledge, the king would have no choice but to put them all to the sword or risk a revolt. I have no trouble believing the people associated with them have secrets just as bad.

“These damning secrets. In the end, they are words and past actions. However, if they are all painted to be crazy, power-hungry, reckless bastards inviting evil beings from other realms into the kingdom, they can throw around all of the slurs they want and it will mean nothing. If the king labels them all as threats to the kingdom, their words will be labeled mad ravings and desperate slander. Condemnation only means something when coming from a reputable source.”

“I think you’re underestimating the power of malicious rumors.” Especially ones that are true. “But I see your point. It definitely won’t have the same impact as it would have when, say, Senior was the king’s advisor. However, there’d still be considerable fallout.”

“The fallout will not be that considerable. With the very public end to Gordon Senior, the family already has a bad reputation in the capital, even amongst your commoners. The king is going to stand up, with all of his supporters, and tell them that the same family that staged an armed rebellion against the crown is summoning creatures that can steal a man’s will without him being so much the wiser. That they have used these creatures to subvert men and corrupt the innocent. Hide your wives and daughters or fat, ugly men will make them their willing whores. Warn your sons or they’ll be dumb workhorses, slaves only able to think thoughts permitted by their masters.”

I wince.

“Who’s going to defend them? In that context, Junior can stand up and declare that the king feasts on newborns every full moon and the majority won’t care a bit. It will be the ravings of a degenerate, slanderous rebel against the man trying to protect them from demons out to steal their minds.”

My wife chuckles. “We have inadvertently provided the king with the perfect opportunity to eliminate a power he does not appreciate. I can practically smell the blood. Mark my words, dedia, the king wants their heads.”

“What does that make my family? Collateral damage?” The thought pisses me off something fierce, igniting the anger I thought suppressed. Her smile stretches wider. Damn battle maniac. “I suppose this is just what you were waiting for.”

“I have learned to enjoy peace but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the thrill of war. Two forces slamming together in desperate a struggle. Bodies and convictions clashing. The smell of freshly spilled blood mixed with the foul stench of men losing their courage. The furious shouting of berserkers lost to the haze of war who can no longer distinguish between friend or foe. The whimpers of the broken, hiding beneath corpses and hoping the dead with shelter them from real warriors.”

The hand that had been behaving itself moves again, pushing under my robe as it trails my thigh. I suck in a sharp breath as she immediately goes for my ‘head’, teasing it with a finger. However, my attention is on her face. Her lips are parted, breaths coming quickly, her face flushed green. I’ve always known what she is, but we’re talking about my kingdom. My family. I may not be the most loyal subject of the crown but she is speaking of the flames of war engulfing this continent and saints strike me blind if I can’t see that she’s excited. By the abyss, I can feel it.

“And then the end comes. When the hand is covered in so much blood, it can’t grip a weapon properly. The victors stand atop a mountain of shredded meat and twisted metal. The survivors haunted but the few…the few bask in the glory, more alive than ever before. Hailed by the cries of the carrion feeders who sing their adulations and thanks for the plentiful feast.” Her hand moves faster, tracing my slit. I bite my lower lip to smother my moans, unwilling to break the strange trance she’s in.

“The wounds hurt for a night but in the morning, they’re stronger. Faster. That much harder to cut. That much harder to kill.” She lets out a breath mixed with a growl that sends shivers down my spine.

It snaps her out of whatever state she’s in. Kierra blinks and then smiles at me. Deviant doesn’t move her hand. “You’ll have to forgive me, hm? I know you don’t share my…enthusiasm for combat.”

“No.” Overwhelming idiots who step out of line? That’s a delight. What’s she’s talking about? That’s a nightmare. “And nothing’s been decided yet.”

I need to reject the interrogators again, formally. Probably to the face of whoever is behind that disgusting offer. Then I have to investigate. Find out the crown’s motives. Evaluate my options and the consequences of them. I don't know what that information can change and I have to admit, I’m leery about putting pressure on a monarch. There’s a thousand ways that can go wrong. And a handful it can go right. Time will tell.