The morning sun cast a dusty gold glow over the ruins of the grand council chamber. Marble pillars still stood tall, but the divine energy that once radiated through them now buzzed uncertainly, like a hymn sung off-key. Blood had dried on the dais. The council was gone, save for one unconscious figure still bound in fuchsia silk rope—our prize from last night's impromptu mutiny.
And what a lovely mess it had been.
I adjusted my cravat and sighed, standing at the center of the dais with a goblet of consecrated wine that I'd stolen from the altar. The taste? Earthy. Slightly heretical.
"Remind me never to negotiate with zealots before breakfast," I muttered, letting the wine slosh between my teeth. Elian stood to my right, posture perfect, hair tousled from our earlier skirmish. Lysaria was lounging on a toppled cherub statue, legs crossed like he was waiting for room service.
"They're sending the emissary," Elian said. "She'll arrive within the hour."
"Of course she will. I offered them Hollow. He's like divine currency to them."
Behind us, the captive moaned softly. Councilor Virel, all pomp and powdered wigs, now looked a little less omnipotent and a lot more gagged. A true shame I didn't have time for an interrogation scene.
But alas, the exchange came first.
We waited on the outer balcony of the Sanctum, wind tugging at our cloaks. Hollow stood nearby, his frame tense, pale hands twisting nervously. He was back in his ceremonial whites, marked with a velvet sigil stitched just above the heart. Mine, of course.
"You don't have to go through with this," he murmured softly, his voice cute and non-threating now that he was half his previous size.
"Oh but I do."
He looked up at me, uncertain. I reached out, adjusted his collar with care, and leaned in.
"From now on, you're my divine little spy. Chin up. Look professional," I said softly before kissing him on the lips. He did not resist, rather a furious blush came over him as he cusped his hands to his face in surprise.
The emissary arrived draped in gold-threaded robes and accompanied by twin armored paladins, each glowing faintly with holy warding. She looked like she'd smelled something foul and expensive. Her gaze lingered on me with a mix of distaste and dread.
"The council accepts your terms," she said stiffly.
"Excellent. Shall we do the exchange like civilized heretics?"
I beckoned, and Hollow stepped forward. Councilor Virel was dragged out by Elian, still bound but now adorned with a flower crown I'd placed on him for...extra flair. The emissary's nostrils twitched.
We walked toward each other slowly, the air thick with divine tension. The exchange was silent. Hollow brushed past me without a word, giving one last glance over his shoulder. I winked.
Then it was done.
The church had its prodigal son.
And I had immunity.
**
Returning to the Velvet Court was like slipping back into silk sheets after a week in shackles. Familiar, indulgent, and just the right amount of morally compromising.
The halls were lit with floating candles and perfumed smoke. Velvet draped every wall. Murals of saints doing unspeakable things to each other in tasteful chiaroscuro adorned the ceilings. Home.
I didn't go straight to the war room. No, first came the bath.
I slid into the steaming onyx tub and let out a sigh that echoed off marble. A moment later, gentle footsteps padded across the tile. It was Aurel, the quietest of my collection I'd picked up last week. Raven-black hair, long lashes, and a voice like rain on glass.
"You summoned me, Master Cecil?"
"No need for titles in the tub. Just wash my back."
He undressed with delicate ease and joined me, sitting at the edge of the tub as he ran the silk sponge down my spine. His touch was reverent. Patient. Almost sinful.
"You were gone long," he said softly.
"Oh come on it was only a few hours, so dramatic."
"Are you done now? Dealing with the church, I mean."
I turned, water lapping at my collarbones, and gave him a slow, devilish smile before bursting out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
"I'm just getting started."
He blinked.
"Hollow's reinstatement wasn't mercy. It was strategy. The church has swallowed him whole, unaware he's still mine in every sinful sense. That seed will bloom into something... exquisite."
Aurel rinsed my shoulders in silence.
"For now they worship past vows and celibacy," I whispered. "I will make them worship femboys." My fit of laughter returned.
Aurel's breath caught.
"How so?"
"One sweet seduction at a time."
It'll be much easier now with my new ability.
Steam curled between us as the water darkened with sacred oils. I pulled Aurel into my lap, slow and purposeful. The candlelight danced across his pale skin.
"You ready?"
He nodded, cheeks flushed. Our lips met in a wet, sloppy mess before I began deliberately kissing each section of his body from top down. With each press of my lips, his back arched a little more as he left sweet scented moans hanging in the air among the bubbles.
Outside, the Velvet Court began to stir with its usually activities.
Inside, I had finally laid the foundations for divine blasphemy.
This is going to be fun.