31

I stand in front of the mirror and look at myself. A much too short dress adorns my body. Serves more as a decoration than actually hiding anything. The neckline makes my breasts almost fall out and my butt is no different. I do not care. Today I should finally get my revenge. A week has passed since Claire's death. A damn week of holding back all my anger. But Xerxes said killing her in the middle of the night would be too conspicuous. Then everyone would know who was involved in Magda's death.

That is not the case today. A ball is to take place. One who should take the pressure off the upcoming war from high society. They should laugh and feel a little normality. The castle will be full of people. Full of people who could have lent a hand to Magda.

I would have thought I would be excited. That my heart would be beating wildly in my chest. But that's not the case. I am calm. Calm and full of anticipation. Anger has been eating through my bloodstream for seven fucking days. All I can think about is looking Magda in the eye as I make her take her last breath. This thought determines my actions. My dreams. Has become my elixir of life.

Xerxes said the first murder was the worst. Would haunt you and still be balm for the soul. But this very balm would only spread slowly. Wouldn't lessen the self-loathing at first. Of course I know what Xerxes meant by that. If I kill Magda, there will be no going back. The inhibition threshold will drop. Always and always further. Until there will be no more. The morality I had then will no longer exist. But all of that is okay as long as I can quench this burning pain inside. And that'll definitely make the balm of vengeance, won't it?

Zaret sees it very differently. He got angry when I told him about Claire and Magda. For a moment he was his old self again. Like a dark storm front that swallows everything. As if he wasn't badly injured. As if the last few weeks had only been in my imagination. He wanted to stop me from trying to kill Magda. Argued go Xerxes. Love or possessiveness that had led him to it? I did not know it. And until before Claire died, I would have settled for either. I desired Zaret so much. Everything in me wanted him. My heart. My mind. My body.

And it's not like this is over. But there is a stronger emotion in me now. Hate. Abyssal hate that I am willing to crush anything and anyone who stands in my way. It's like a poison that's slowly taking over me. I live for revenge I am well aware that I should question Xerxes. But how am I supposed to doubt the only person who's ever really supported me? How could I push him away when he has Zaret in his power?

It's a wicked game I'm living through. It's a sadness that looks like joy. A cohesion that holds more loneliness than being alone could ever do. And yet it's the best I've ever had. I don't want to doubt. Don't want to question or interpret. Right now I just want to get the ball behind me.

I still look at myself in the mirror. But I don't really see myself. Zaret appears before my inner eye. The warm, brown eyes that combine dangerousness and gentleness so well.

"I will prevent that." His voice was so full of confidence that I almost believed those words. For a second I really thought we were back on the streets of the alleys. But the musty smell of the dungeon proved me wrong. So all I could do was smile at the words, caressed his cheek and kissed Zaret on the lips.

"Of course, right out of the cell, you'll be my white knight and save my soul," I whispered, unable to help biting my lip in anticipation. I provoked Zaret. With full intention. I wanted his strong hands open on my skin. He was so full of energy that night that I was selfish and wanted to take advantage of that energy. But Zaret had seen through me. He gripped my neck tightly and held me against the wall. Gave me such a sweet kiss Taste of his closeness that my abdomen tightened painfully with desire.

"Do you really think this will work?" he asked, letting the pressure on my neck increase. I gasped for air. I clutched his arm, yet my heart pounded in anticipation.

"I hope so," I croaked out as Zaret bent down and his lips trailed down my cheek. It was paradoxical, but again he had the upper hand. I could have just walked out of the cell. I was the one, freedom enjoyed. Not he. And yet Zaret held me prisoner. With all his power over me. And he demonstrated that to me more than clearly that evening. He didn't ask questions. Zaret just took what he liked. I was his puppet .Only there to depressurize.And I?I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Small marks from Zaret can still be found on my body. There are bruises on the thin skin on the neck and I automatically stroke the bruises. Just this light touch is enough to give me goosebumps. Maybe Zaret has more power over me than I realize. I sigh softly and just as I want to turn away from my distorted image, Platura approaches me. He didn't carry out his threat to execute Claire. No more beating attacks and no wild insults followed from him. However, that is not necessary either. His kick to my ribs was better than I realized. A huge swelling can be found there and the bruise is jet black.

"Put your hair aside." The voice is full of anticipation, which to me is a sign that nothing good can follow. But I don't feel like resisting him. He would only respond with violence and force me. So I do what he asks of me tie my hair in a bun and expose my neck.

"You don't have to give me any jewelry," I whistle and put on an enchanting smile. Of course it's pure provocation. A simple gesture to show Platura that he doesn't scare me.

But Platura ignores me. Don't even wait for all the strands to be removed from my neck. A leather strap immediately wraps itself around my skin and I consider his dexterous fingers. The buckle is fastened quickly and he looks at me from the side with satisfaction. But just as I'm about to let my hair fall again, he shakes his head. "Not yet." His eyes flash briefly and he's holding an object between us. A thin stick that almost looks like a fork. Just smaller. And more pointed. But I can't see exactly what's being held in front of my face Platura clamps it onto my collar, right in front, forcing me to lift my chin a little.

"What is this?" In fact, I don't care about the quarrels between me and Platura now. I know that having an unknown object attached to one is never a good thing. In this castle, it's always a sign of imminent pain.

"Nothing exciting." Platura's grin clearly resonates with what's being said. "It's just to make sure you keep your chin up nicely." To punctuate his words, he strokes my jawbone as light as a feather before straightening up again. "After all, the fine gentlemen should have a waitress who always maintains a nice posture, right?" Platura also chose the path of politeness in her voice. A mocking politeness that only makes me gnash my teeth. Nevertheless, I test it out automatically ", which is what Platura means. I lower my chin. Just a millimeter. A damn millimeter, the tip of the fork pressing right into the soft skin between my collarbones. I inhale sharply, and with the mirror still in front of me, I can't help but see the little drop of blood. It grows almost leisurely, only to then run down my décolleté.

Platura also considers the fascinating play of colors caused by the small drop. The so beautiful line of red that emerges on my skin. "Actually, this is intended for people who should slowly perish." He sounds sober. As if he were telling me a tale from the old days. "They are tied to a beam and hang there for days." Now he catches the drop with his finger and looks at it. Platura probably wants to appear disinterested. But he can save himself that. I already know him too well for that. The slightly upturned corners of the mouth speak a different language. He's happy to tell me the horror story. "And at some point every body needs sleep. The head falls forward and the little spikes cut open the skin." He laughs softly and looks at me through the mirrored surface. "But not immediately, of course. Humans are true fighters when it comes to survival. It happens slowly." We keep eye contact the whole time. I will show no fear by looking down. So I keep the emotionless expression and just make a bored face.

"It won't help Magda to have me beg for mercy." We both know that's not true. Just as we both know I won't just be a waitress tonight "I'm the whore assigned to help the people out there. Another move by Magda. The last thing she'll ever do."

Platura grins to himself and pushes me toward the door. "It wasn't Magda's idea, it was mine," he whispers softly, giving me a shove and I stumble clumsily into the hallway.

***

Again the little spikes dig into the hollow in my breastbone. Pain hits me again. And once again I'm bleeding. At the time, the deep red color made me sad. I cried for every drop and just wanted it to stop. It's different today. A grim smile creeps onto my lips. In fact, something like pride stirs in me. Yes, I will be the prostitute for many people today. And yes, they will look down on me. But I just don't care about all the people. You don't see what's behind my innocent lashes. Are too blind to see the strength behind the so delicate blue of my pupils. Not realizing they are facing a demon in angelic form. And so the warm blood doesn't seem intimidating to me. It doesn't make that I duck away. No, it reminds me that I won't be the only one bleeding today.

Platura steps out the door behind me and puts his hand on my lower back to guide me. Normally I'd probably punch his arm away. But the aisle is full of people and since I don't want anyone to notice the quarrels between me and Platura, I leave it at an annoyed look in his direction. However, my grudge against Platura is quickly forgotten. There is a lot of hustle and bustle around me. Some men call out to each other what is still needed for the ball, while the women bring utensils from A to B in brisk steps. The rustling of clothes buzzes in the air and in a way this sight reminds me of my old place of work. Everyone here goes about their own tasks and yet everyone seems to be routine. Despite the unusually crowded corridors, no one crashes into the other. It's almost as if they're all doing the same dance. Everyone except Platura and me. We're probably looking like two desolate statues in a busy market.

I've lived with Xerxes for a long time. And yet I have never seen anything like it. I feel a little like a little kid holding a piece of candy in my hands for the first time. It's incredible to hear something like excitement in this castle. No sneaking by the employees. Rather, it seems as if it were a joyful work. But the spectacle changes. People become quieter. Look down instead of straight ahead. That way I know who's coming before even their voice is heard.

"Excited?" Xerxes whispers in my ear and takes Platura's place. By now the staff is familiar with the sight of me and Xerxes. At first he tried not to show himself publicly with me. Then he wanted at least to have a safe distance between us. Now I can't even count the number of servants who saw him and me having sex.

"No." I give him a shy smile and absentmindedly tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. But in Xerxes the otherwise so effective gestures in men come up against granite. He just raises an annoyed eyebrow and lies down next to me.

"How about lying?" He's in a good mood today. Or Xerxes wants to spare me. Actually, he would have grabbed my neck and pushed me against the wall.

"Okay, a little excited maybe." That's correct. Interestingly, it's not the planned murder of Magda that makes me nervous, but that I haven't served as a prostitute in this way in a long time. Before the run-in with the baron, when the wallets were a little looser, Pete would occasionally drag us girls to a bar. There we should make the men beautiful eyes and seduce them. It was part of my life back then. But that seems so far away. As if I hadn't experienced it at all, but had just been a silent observer.

Xerxes grabs my elbow and pulls me sideways with a jerk. I gasp and really have trouble following the rapid change of direction. "Xerxes, what...", I can't get any further, here we are in a small room and the door is being closed. And with precisely this closure, it is pitch black. "What are we doing here?" My voice is lowered and I automatically look around. Of course I don't recognize anything. Just blackness that follows blackness. Damn where are we? "I have something for you," he whispers, apparently holding something in front of my face. I don't see anything, but a slight breeze suggests that something in front of me is shaking. So I want to reach for it. But apparently I'm the only blind person here. Before I could even feel with my fingers

"No, it's not that easy." In fact, Xerxes sounds pleased. Apparently he's really in a good mood. Interesting that Magda's impending death seems to cheer him up. But I shouldn't care. He piqued my curiosity.

"How will it go then?" A small voice inside me whispers that I don't even want to know what Xerxes has for me. Most of the time, nothing good follows for me. Just another small item that brings me to the brink of despair. But today Xerxes doesn't have that gloomy aura. That's enough to soften my caution a little.

"I'll show you." And now his voice must have dropped hundreds of octaves. So much for thinking he was going easy on me. "Oh, Xerxes, now? I have to be at the ball in a minute." Yes, now I dare to try to block. However, it doesn't often work out that he's considerate of me. Most of the time he just grins at me with that self-confident smile and just throws me on the nearest surface. But sometimes - very rarely - he gives in to me. Then Xerxes mumbles something unintelligible and tells me that this is an exception. And every time he does that, I guess my heart just wants to jump out of my chest.

"I don't want sex," he grumbles, turning it up a bit. That makes me sit up and take notice. I still can't see anything. It's true that my eyes seem to be getting used to the blackness, but even that isn't enough to correctly identify the outlines.

"Spread your legs." A simple request that just makes me gasp in disbelief. So much for not wanting sex. But since I'm not suicidal, I obey his command and push my feet a little further apart. And since Xerxes can't see me anyway, I pout and pout. I don't want sex now. I'll probably have to deal with soreness tomorrow anyway and just walk around with my legs apart for the next few days. Xerxes could at least show some consideration, couldn't he?

His soft laughter rings out and Xerxe's face hovers in front of mine. And this time I'm sure of it, even if I don't see anything. I hear the heat from him too much for that. Feel the light breath on my skin. "I can almost hear you seething inside." Still more amusement in the voice than resentment.

"Perhaps a little," I admit, but even as the last word leaves my lips, Xerxes' finger rests on my privates. This is pleasantly cool. Almost unnaturally cold. And especially wet. And with that I know what Xerxe's surprise is. "You got me fat?" Absolute bewilderment is reflected in my voice. This is not played. In fact, I just can't place Xerxe's gesture. No man has ever taken care of me. Especially not without asking for something in return.

"Yes, I had to steal from the kitchen maid for it, but I couldn't ask Magda very well..." This time it's Xerxes who is interrupted. By me. through my lips By all the fucking gratitude he gets from a kiss. Xerxes usually likes it when I'm reserved and more likely to request a kiss through gentle touches. This time it's different. This gesture is much too big for me. I snuggle up to him. Run my tongue over his lower lip. But Xerxes won't let me in right away. His lips curl into a grin and he puts a little more pressure on my middle. Distributes the fat on my clitoris, my labia and slowly slides to my entrance.

"I knew you were happy," he whispers, and finally he gives me what I want. His tongue nudges mine as he generously spreads the fat. And thus ensures that I might get through the evening without pain after all. Almost leisurely, his fingertip wanders into me and I sigh contentedly onto his lips.

But Xerxes is not satisfied with a superficial application. He penetrates me. Crooks the finger and my sigh turns into a moan. But that's okay. The resentment that he should be considerate is gone. And so I do not hold back my heavy breath. Grab onto Xerxes shoulders and pull him closer to me. Right now he would get everything from me. He cares about me. That's more than I've ever received. Than I ever expected from him.

He bangs his fingertip twice more against my sensitive inner wall before he pulls away from me. And even if I don't see him, this moment seems unspeakably intimate to me. We share so much with each other. Are similar to us and yet so different. And starting this evening, one more thing will bind us together. "We have to go," he whispers and strokes my clitoris again. Makes such a sweet tug in my abdomen. "Yes, probably." Despite my words, I don't move. Right now I would just like to stay here. With him. But that's just not possible. Xerxes leans his forehead against mine and I can hear a tinge of lust from him too. Breathing gets a little heavier. Not much. But I can now distinguish and classify the nuances in Xerxes.

He sighs again before he pulls away from me and opens the door. Platura stands in front of the room and we walk down the aisle without a word. Everyone has their own thoughts. And yet we all think the same thing. To Magda. To the plan. of her death. Xerxes blows a kiss on my temple and he's gone. And I'm in front of the ballroom door. A soft murmur comes from it. The heavy wooden doors are only ajar and so I can already see the shimmering of the candles. That should bring me back down to earth. But it doesn't.

Nothing that happens today will shock me anymore. I have experienced that. seen too much All the abuse, all the mental anguish made me stronger. Back then I didn't understand the saying that someone rose from the ashes. Now I do. I rose from the fucking ashes. Kicked out the remaining small flames and tapped myself off. you can hurt me Can make me suffer But nobody can take this thought away from me: I survived. And with that I push open the door and enter the hall with a shy smile. Ready to put a stop to Magda and all her spitefulness.