Chapter 8: The Morning After

Scene 34

Val woke around nightfall, the same as usual. But they felt like they were rising with the sun.

Because Zofia was there, greeting them with a smile more beautiful than the dawn. “Good morning.” She was still naked under the covers, her body warm and perfect against theirs.

Val smiled back at her, one hand idly tracing along her back, just to touch her. “It definitely feels like a good morning, with you here.” They sobered slightly, looking into her gemstone eyes. “How are you feeling, now that you’ve had a night to ... process?” Things that seemed like such a good idea in the heat of the moment could easily turn around in the light of the morning after.

Zofia caught their meaning and just smiled all the brighter. “I’m not going to suddenly start regretting the best night of my life.” She emphasised the point with a kiss — one which blended tender affection with just a little hint of desire’s stirrings.

Honestly? Having the affection from the princess was much more important than having more pleasure from her. Val melted into it, sighing their relief. They weren’t completely relaxed, not yet. But they were closer.

Zofia drew back from it and looked into their eyes. “How about you, Valerie? What do you feel like today? You said it changes from night to night.”

Val had to laugh. They slumped back, a warm blush on their cheeks, and put a hand across their face. “I don’t know yet. I need time to wake up and decide.” And they weren’t in a hurry. With Zofia there beside them, they felt so comfortable, even in their unchanged skin. That was so unfamiliar. Usually, they’d worry what a new lover would think of how they changed ... but Zofia’s kiss had reassured them before they’d even started to need it.

This would be nice, for however long it lasted.

Val shook their head and pushed the thought aside. “You don’t have to call me Valerie all the time, you know. Just ‘Val’ is fine. It’s not even always short for Valerie.” Some nights, they were Valour, or Valentine, or Chevalier. They slid from the bed to look over the options in their wardrobe.

“Val.” Zofia’s tone was hushed, her eyes wide. She glanced over Val’s nudity, but that wasn’t what had them so stunned. “That would be so ... so casual. Are you sure?”

Val had to laugh while they pulled on a knee-length, forest-green skirt. “Princess, we had sex last night, and a nickname is the part that scandalises you?”

She sat up. One arm self-consciously held the sheets in place to cover herself, while the other strayed to her head but found no tiara. “You still see me as a princess?”

“Of course.” Val sat on the bed’s edge, fingers brushing her arm with a soothing caress. “It’s who you are. Who you really are. What we might do while the collar’s on...” They smiled while Zofia blushed. “It’s wonderful, but it’s only temporary. You’re not really, legally, permanently my slave; it’s just a fun thing to play at.” That was what separated them from the Owls.

Zofia looked down, thoughtful but quiet.

There was a knock on the door. Val looked down — they were still topless, but that wouldn’t matter. They knew who it was by the cadence of the knock. “Liz, come in.”

Liz was fresh-faced and smiling, carrying her tea and wearing a robe. Still flattering, but much more modest than her favourite shift. “Hey, have you seen Zo—” Then she took in the scene, and her smile grew wide and mischievous. “Oh, looks like someone had fun today.” She was incorrigible — she could learn to stop teasing a specific person, but it was a matter of repetition.

Zofia tensed where she sat, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She clutched more tightly at the sheets, the one layer between her and immodesty.

But then she looked at Val, and her expression shifted into determination.

“Yes. Quite a lot of fun, actually.” Zofia let the sheet slip to her waist as she sat up taller. The cosmetic had faded, leaving her to put her natural, alabaster skin on display, all the way to her ghost-pale nipples. One finger traced across her throat and clavicles. “If you look closely, you might still see some residue from how much fun Valerie — Val — had.”

Liz choked on her tea and started to stare, out of shock and other reasons. “P-Princess, your...”

“What’s the matter? Oh, these?” Zofia pointed a finger directly at her own chest. “They’re just breasts, are they not?”

“I ... but...” Liz’s jaw wouldn’t close. Val had only seen her so stunned a few times in all the years they’d known each other.

Zofia rose from the bed, moving with the grace of a swordmaster as she prowled up to Liz. “Please, go ahead. You were looking for me, yes?”

“Letters,” Liz blurted out. “Magistrates. Talk soon.” She rushed from the room.

Zofia stood tall and bold for another moment longer ... then threw herself into the bed and covered herself anew with the sheets. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she said, mortified.

“Neither can I,” Val said, awed.

Zofia caught that and peeked up at her, her tourmaline eyes shy. “You liked that?” The other questions on her mind were unspoken, but obvious: It wasn’t too shameful, too scandalous, too slutty?

“Of course.” They ran an encouraging hand along Zofia’s back. “You’re gorgeous, Zofia. And that gorgeousness is yours to do with as you please. If you want to hide it, you can. If you want to show it, that’s up to you. I count myself so lucky that you’ve shown me as much as you have.” They leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Zofia closed her eyes for a moment, smiling. Then turned to look at the slave dress and shoes still on the floor of Val’s room. “And I suppose it’s good practice for tonight.” Her first time playing slave at the Owls’ idea of Darlinalia.

That put a cloud over Val’s mood, and they clutched at Zofia’s back. It would also be their first time playing her master in that setting.

Zofia noticed. Of course she did. Her eyes settled on Val’s. “You’ve just reassured me, so let me do the same for you.” She took Val’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “I’m willing.” With those two words behind her, her cheeks began to flush, her eyes to brighten. “Whatever you do — however you display me, whomever you allow to touch me, whatever you command me to do. Especially after last night, I’m willing, Master.”

Val maybe should have corrected her. They weren’t her master right then — they weren’t undercover, they weren’t in the middle of play, she wasn’t wearing the collar. But the way she said it just sounded too good to deflect. They lifted her hand and kissed the middle knuckle. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“But you’re still worried about the slaves,” Zofia observed. “Worried that you might have to do more than watch, when even watching is distasteful.”

Val flushed, ducking their head. She was right.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. After all...” Zofia sat up again, exposing herself. Her cheeks flushed beautifully, a fetching pink — but below the neck, her skin was all pale. All her natural, untransfigured self, and she did nothing to hide it. “ ... you have Princess Zofia Tourmaline as your slave, don’t you? You’re the one bringing someone worth sharing, n-not hoping that you can borrow from someone else. Will anyone even really expect you to look at another slave?”

As Val looked at her, drinking in the beauty that she offered, they had to moan in agreement. Their mind whirled with images, thinking of Zofia being theirs to show off. Their sheer excitement at the thought still scared them a little.

But not nearly as much as it used to. Not now that they had her open, explicit acceptance. And ... more than acceptance, to judge by the lovely, aroused perking of the princess’ nipples. Though their colour almost blended in with the rest of her skin, they had their own way of standing out.

Their gaze panned back upwards, looking into Zofia’s face. There was tension there — a mix of eagerness and uncertainty. This was still so new to her, even as it drew her in.

Val kissed her, letting the moment linger, trying to express their desire, appreciation, affection, all at once. Afterwards, they sighed, breath teasing across Zofia’s face. Heat flowed between them. They wanted more. They saw in Zofia’s eyes, felt in her body, that she wanted it just as much. And there was that beautiful haze in her pink eyes: collared or not, she was ready to obey. They could command her right back into their bed.

But they stayed quiet, and after a moment, Zofia took a deep, mind-clearing breath. She wanted it, definitely; but she didn’t need it. It was a choice, and she could still make other choices. “I should go,” she reluctantly said. She needed to get her night started, needed to see what Liz had to say.

Val nodded and gave her a briefer peck. “Soon, then.” They smiled. “Is it bad that I’m looking forward to tonight, just a little?”

Zofia slipped away and pulled the slave dress back on; she didn’t have other clothing with her. Though she blushed at the comment, she smiled back at Val in that breathtaking way that she’d started giving them more often. “I’d hope not. Because I am, too.”

Scene 35

Once Liz was back in her room, she leaned back against the closed door. She had to stop, catch her breath, and try to clear her mind by force.

That was not what she’d expected from Zofia. The princess was so deathly serious that she’d chase Liz down for suggesting she thank her properly, and so terribly proper that she’d pale at the thought of spending the night in a bordello’s guest suite.

And so repressed that Liz could practically give her a heart attack just by wearing her favourite shift. Zofia’s beauty made it fun to flirt with her already, and her habitual composure made her blushing, stammering reactions stand out. It made Liz feel even more beautiful to get so much response from her.

Zofia was fun to tease. Fun for Liz to tease her. For her to flip the script like that, to strut up and use her own words against her, was so...

So...

Hot.

Liz groaned and pushed off the door, moving farther inside so she could pour herself a drink. Aggressive confidence wasn’t just how Liz liked to act. She liked to see it too. She worked in a bordello, for Darleena’s sake. It was sexy for a woman to embrace and flaunt her own beauty. That was why she’d started doing it once she had beauty of her own: to be the kind of flirt she wanted to see in the world. Then she’d discovered how much fun it was and it snowballed from there.

But it counted double, triple for someone to embrace it after being so shy. She downed her wine then rubbed her temples as the scene replayed in her mind’s eye. Zofia, walking with a kind of deadly grace unlike what Liz saw on the bordello stages. With that heated, challenging look in her eyes, her beautiful body on complete display. Her mouth watered at the thought of it. Liz’s sex drive was back in full force, and all it took was the sight of a lovely, naked princess.

And Val had done so much more than look. Far from jealousy, that fact gave Liz a rush of compersion — of positive empathy with Val’s own joy, of vicarious thrill. They didn’t own each other. And besides, it could be a lot of fun to share a lover. If Liz played her cards right — Zofia was going to come and ask about those letters, so she moved up to the vanity to make sure her makeup was perfect, her robe was flattering.

Fuck. She was getting ahead of herself. She put a hand to her chest, feeling how her heart raced. It was one thing to tease the princess, to enjoy her blush, but this kind of giddy feeling ... this could be intense, risky.

But it could be oh so worth it.

Scene 36

There were hours until Darlinalia, so Zofia pulled on the familiar clothing she’d brought with her. As she lifted her tiara, she felt like she should apologise to it: it had spent more of the last night in a safe than on her head, even long after their ruse was over. The weight settled into its normal, natural place on her head, and the magic protection snapped into place.

She closed her eyes and just felt what she was wearing. The weight of the gold and symbolism atop her head; the tight, red cotton that sheathed her from throat to thighs; the matching shorts that made the dress modest; the leather boots past her knees and gloves past her elbows. The belt around her waist that held her sword close to hand.

It felt good to dress like...

Her first instinct was to think of it as ‘like herself’, but was that quite right?

She looked into the mirror. Yes, she looked calm, focused, and ready; she looked like a knight on a mission. But she almost always looked like that. It was an image she tried to cultivate, a mask she put in front of herself so that people saw Princess Zofia Tourmaline, not what was really beneath.

As she met her reflection’s eyes, what did she see? Yes, she was scared. Yes, her heart was pounding. Tonight, she would face the Owls in their revels, and she still didn’t know if she had any allies beyond the bordello.