The Next Morning

You awaken with a low moan, your entire body aching as if you’d been trampled by a herd of wild beasts. The heavy ache in your muscles makes even the thought of movement unbearable. Blinking against the faint light streaming through a high window, you try to piece together the events of the previous night. Fragments swirl in your mind—a bitter concoction, an inferno of sensations, and strong hands guiding you somewhere...

Viola’s quarters.

No—Katarina’s.

“I see you’re back with us,” comes a familiar, rough-edged voice from the foot of the bed.

You lift your head with a groan and spot Katarina, her silhouette outlined by the morning light. She’s leaning casually against a post, wearing a white silk shirt that clings to her chest, its sheer fabric doing little to conceal the powerful curves beneath. The sunlight catches the faint sheen of sweat on her skin, and her dark hair is tousled, as though she’d just risen from the same bed you now occupy.

She smirks, her expression wry. “I have to thank you, male,” she says, wincing slightly as she bends to pick up her leather cuirass from a nearby chair. “I’ve been with dozens of men—warriors, nobles, brigands—but not one has ever come close to satisfying me like you did last night.”

Her tone is teasing, but there’s a note of genuine disbelief as she allows the silk to slip casually from one shoulder, exposing the taut muscles of her arm. She chuckles softly, shaking her head. “I suspect I won’t walk right for a month.”

You feel an involuntary stirring in your loins, a raw reaction that makes you wince in pain. Katarina notices, her laugh ringing out again, deep and throaty.

“By the Goddess above, you’re a demon,” she says, rubbing her neck as though recalling the night’s events. Her fingers trace a faint bruise on her collarbone, and her smirk widens. “I’ll be feeling you for days.”

Before you can reply, another voice cuts through the charged air.

“Am I interrupting?”

You both glance toward the door, where Persephone stands with her hands clasped, her face unreadable save for the flicker of curiosity in her gray eyes. Her platinum hair is pulled back into a severe braid, and her gown, though simple, is immaculate, a stark contrast to Katarina’s disheveled state.

Katarina’s grin broadens, unrepentant. “Not at all, your grace.” She chuckles as she secures the straps of her armor. “You should’ve stayed, Persephone. It was… an education.”

Persephone’s lips tighten slightly, though a faint blush dusts her pale cheeks. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she says briskly, though her gaze flickers toward you for a brief moment before she steps back into the corridor.

Katarina laughs as the door clicks shut, a low and unrestrained sound of amusement. “You know, Your Grace,” she calls after Persephone, her voice carrying a playful edge, “you can’t stay a virgin forever. Might as well lose it to a man who knows his way around a woman.”

She turns back to you, winking as she pulls on the final piece of her armor, her movements deliberate and predatory. “You have free rein of the palace now, male. Enjoy yourself—have your fun. But tonight…” Her tone lowers, and her eyes gleam with a knowing light. “Return to my quarters. There’s something we need to discuss.”

With a final smirk, she strides toward the door, her boots echoing on the stone floor. You watch her leave, the leather hugging her powerful frame as she exits without another glance.

And then, for the first time in days, you are alone.