I am a Prince of the Veridian Empire. In my most glorious years, I tormented the man they now call the King's Shadow, Leon. I trampled upon his brokenness, mocking him for the pleasures he could no longer have. After I lost everything, he was the one who played with me until I shattered. "Even without that, Your Highness," he would murmur, "I have a thousand ways to serve you." "A eunuch, you say? The pleasures a eunuch can offer… are more varied than you can possibly imagine." 1 I was sprawled across Leon's lap like a discarded rag doll, completely spent. He looked down, savoring the blankness in my eyes. His long, elegant fingers, slick with a moist sheen, slowly wiped themselves on the small of my back. I had already wept myself hollow. My limbs were weak, pliant, and useless. I never knew. I never knew a eunuch could possess such skills. His methods of torment were more numerous, more inventive, than any whole man's. And I, a Prince of the Veridian Empire, had been reduced to this pathetic state before him. Utterly his to take, his to command. The shame. The burning, unbearable shame. I swung my hand, striking him across the face. I did it with the hand that wore my signet ring, not just reddening that pale, handsome cheek, but carving a fine, bloody line into the skin. I snarled through gritted teeth, "You insolent dog, you don't know your place." But my tears and curses earlier had earned me no pity from him. He had simply watched, his expression one of rapturous madness, his pupils dilated with an almost feral excitement as he held me captive, a plaything he could not be denied. I was a fish on his chopping block, and he had gutted me again and again. This time, Leon offered no argument. He simply touched a thumb to the cut on his cheek, smearing the blood slightly. "My apologies, Your Highness. The fault is mine." There was not a shred of remorse in his voice. It was a promise, clear as day: he wasn't finished, and he would dare to do it again. And why shouldn't he? Given his station now, why would he ever need to bow his head to me? My fury was impotent, a pointless gesture. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I lay limp on his lap, listlessly twisting the ring on my finger. "How is my mother?" "Thanks to your… generosity, Your Highness, the Queen Mother's illness has greatly improved." As it should. She had been wasting away all winter. If I hadn't come crawling to Leon, hadn't stripped myself bare for his amusement, she would have been left to die. The King's Shadow. A title of such power. This damned servant, once nothing, was now a lord in his own right. And I, the true prince, was now just a beaten dog, living in constant fear. Ever since my bid for the throne failed and my brother was crowned, I was no longer the exalted Fourth Prince. I couldn't even summon a royal physician. The new king, my brother, refused to see me. Every door was barred. So, on the day of the first snow, I went to the one person I had sworn I would never beg from. The brazier in Leon's chambers burned bright, melting the fine snowflakes from my hair and brows. The warmth was so sudden, so enveloping, it made me want to weep. He was dressed in the severe black and silver of the Obsidian Directorate, lounging on a divan and stroking a white cat in his lap. "Your Highness knows as well as I do," he said, his voice a low purr, "that if His Majesty wants the Queen Mother dead, no one can save her." He was right. If he wasn't, I wouldn't be here. The only person who had the new king's ear was Leon. It was Leon, after all, who had crushed all opposition to put my brother on the throne. My fists clenched. I bowed my head. "For the sake of what we once were, I'm begging you…" "What we once were?" Leon scoffed, finally looking up at me. His eyes were like chips of ice. "Your Highness, is there anything left between us?" There had been. Once. But not anymore. In the struggle for succession, he had chosen my brother, Julian. He had hurt me, and I had humiliated him. Whatever bond we had was long since buried under a mountain of hate. I was speechless. "Your Highness," he said, his voice turning silken and dangerous. "If you're going to beg, you should look the part." He set the cat aside. "I'll save the Queen Mother. But what will you give me in return?" What could I give? I had nothing left. "What do you want?" Leon paused, wiping his hands on a silk cloth. Then he said one word. "Undress." My mind went white, then flooded with a hot, furious disbelief. "What did you say?" The flickering lamplight danced across his face, making his handsome features seem almost demonic. He repeated the word, his tone flat and even. "Take off your clothes." He tossed the cloth into the fire, holding his long, pale hands over the flames to warm them. "I want to see you, Your Highness. The more you bare for me, the faster the Queen Mother's recovery will be." 2 That day, I shattered my own pride. Piece by piece, I shed my fine clothes, stripping away the dignity of my royal blood along with them. He pressed me down onto his lap and explored every inch of me, inside and out. When the torment became unbearable, I bit down on his arm, tears streaming down my face. When the waves of pleasure crested, I moaned his name. Through it all, Leon remained cold, detached, as if all my writhing and weeping couldn't stir a single ember of interest in him. Not because he lacked the means, but because he lacked the desire. For me. Even as a eunuch, he had no interest in me. He didn't want me. He only wanted to know the most exquisite way to humiliate me. This was his revenge. Revenge for how I had once shamed him. The white cat sat by his feet, looking up at me with curious, tilted eyes, letting out a soft meow. He was toying with me, just as he toyed with the cat. How dare he! How dare he debase me like this! My teeth sank into his arm, drawing blood. Leon merely pinched my chin, his fingers probing at my teeth. He chuckled. "Such sharp teeth." My face was a mess of tears. I trembled against his lap, a broken thing. His gaze darkened for a moment. He released my jaw, but his words were still barbs. "You can't take this much? You're more delicate than my little Snow-Puff." He was comparing me to a cat. I snapped my mouth shut, biting his fingers instead. Leon didn't flinch, letting me chew until his hand was slick with blood. With his free hand, he idly stroked my hair twice. "Always biting," he murmured. "One of these days, I'll have to file down those sharp little fangs of yours." 3 I spent the entire winter in the Obsidian Directorate's fortress. I was only allowed to return to the Rosewood Palace once my mother was well. A lady-in-waiting stopped me at the door. The Queen Mother was awake, but she wasn't seeing visitors. Not even me. Three days later, my mother requested permission to leave the capital and retire to the Royal Sepulcher to "tend to the late king's memory." She left without a single word of farewell. I saw her carriage pulling away and I ran, chasing it past the palace walls, my throat raw from shouting her name. I fell, scrambled back up, and kept running. I was finally caught at the Crimson Gate. Leon's arm wrapped around my waist, a band of steel. "Stop, Your Highness. It's long past the gates. Where do you think you're going?" The road ahead was empty. The carriage was gone. I shoved him away like a madman, my eyes burning. "Go away! Get away from me! All of you, just go!" My voice cracked into a hysterical shriek. "Leave! Just leave me! Leave me with nothing!" Let me be utterly alone, trapped in this gilded cage to rot. Leon frowned, clamping a hand over my mouth and pinning me against the cold stone of the palace wall. "What are you shouting for?" he hissed. "You useless thing. Can't you survive without your mother?" I glared at him, a venomous, hateful stare. He wasn't intimidated in the slightest. His voice softened, turning into a low, coaxing murmur. "I won't leave. How about I take care of you, hmm?" I couldn't push him away. I could only stare at him as fresh tears spilled from my eyes. Leon watched me for a long moment. "Don't cry," he commanded. I cried harder. What right did he have to tell me what to do? He didn't want me. Just like my mother. 4 Leon wasn't always a eunuch. He was born Caelan de Valerius, son of the Minister of Justice. At eight, he wrote an ode so brilliant the King himself praised him as "a dragon destined for more than this small pond" and appointed him as my eldest brother's companion. When I was five, Caelan stole my candied fruits. At six, he took me hunting for birds' nests. At seven, he bribed me with sugar sculptures to call him "big brother." At nine, he tricked me into fishing the most prized koi from the imperial gardens so we could roast it over a fire. My mother was so furious her hair practically stood on end. She grabbed my ear and yelled, "Stay away from that little hellion from House Valerius!" So, Caelan taught me how to climb walls and crawl through doggy doors to escape her. When I was thirteen, the Crown Prince was accused of treason and sentenced to death. House Valerius was dragged down with him, branded as co-conspirators. His entire clan was executed. Only Caelan was spared, brought into the palace to serve, reborn as the young eunuch, Leon. It wasn't me who saved him. It was my second brother, Julian. Julian knelt in the snow before the King's chambers for half a day to beg for Caelan's life. The act shattered his already fragile health, leaving him with a sickness that would never heal. Leon once told me he would have rather died than have Julian kneel for him, to have been the cause of his lifelong ailment. Leon adored Julian. But that day… that day, I had also knelt. I knelt in my own palace for a day and a night, my forehead bruised and bloody from kowtowing, begging my mother to intervene, to save Caelan's life. But in the end, I was powerless. Leon was assigned to Julian's Ivory Palace, and from then on, we were strangers. I thought he blamed me for not saving him. I once cornered him in a corridor, trying to explain in a low, humbled voice, trying every means I knew to have him transferred to my service. But Leon refused. He said he wanted to stay with Julian. He said, "The Fourth Prince is showered with every imaginable favor. The Second Prince has nothing. I have to stay with him." And among all those favors showered upon me, the one I truly wanted was missing. Leon's. He gave the part of him that should have been mine to Julian. Later, the rivalry for the throne between Julian and me grew fiercer. My personal attendant, Pip, a boy who had been with me for years, "slipped" and drowned in a pond. Pip, who always covered for Caelan and me when we snuck out to play. Pip, who knew just how to rub my stomach when I ate too much. And it was Leon who had killed him. With his own hands. Pip knew how to swim. He crawled out of that pond three times, and three times Leon kicked him back in, until he didn't surface again. I hated Leon. I hated him with a fury that burned away my sleep. I used my father's favor to have Leon transferred to my palace. I took a whip to him, grabbing him by the collar and demanding to know why. Why he had killed my friend. Leon just laughed, a low, chilling sound. "Because he was in the Second Prince's way." I slapped him across the face. "A fine dog Julian has raised." I sneered. "The servants whisper that you're his bedwarmer, his little pet. I didn't believe it, but now I see I thought too highly of you." I pressed my foot down on the scar between his legs, on his wound, on his nothingness. "Tell me," I hissed, "can you even please him, without your… equipment? How exactly do you serve him?" Leon let me crush him, swallowing the pain. A smile played on his lips. "Is that jealousy I hear, Your Highness?" The words stung like a wasp. A sharp, piercing pain shot through my heart. Blinded by rage, I kicked him away. I shielded my wounded heart with the most vicious words I could find. A prince like me, was I supposed to kneel and beg for a scrap of affection from this heartless, treacherous slave? "Jealousy?" I spat. "I'm just disgusted." "I can't imagine how my brother can even stomach it. A rootless thing like you. What kind of pleasure could you possibly give? Aren't you afraid of dirtying him?" I forced a contemptuous smile, my eyes crimson with malice, and I ground my heel down, tormenting him with a mad frenzy. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to hate. I wanted him to feel the same tearing pain that I felt. "I gave you a chance to be a man, and you refused. So be a good dog for me now." Leon stayed in my palace for a year and a half. I unleashed all my hatred and fury upon him. He always remained silent, his eyes downcast, enduring it all. Until he was transferred out of my service and into the Heartstone Palace, to serve my father, the King. From there, Leon rose meteorically. He became my father's most trusted advisor, Director of the Obsidian Directorate, the keeper of the King's seal. And after my father died, it was Leon who put Julian on the throne, abandoning me completely. 5 During the Spring Hunt, the new king, Julian, seemed to finally remember me, the loser in the game of succession. He invited me to join him. When it was time to depart, a pageboy came for me. As I approached the royal carriage, I could hear laughter from within. It was Julian, whining like a child. "I take it back. That was a bad move. I don't want to play my piece there." Leon's voice, calm and measured, replied, "Your Majesty, a move made cannot be unmade." "And what if I do?" Leon sighed, his patience seemingly infinite. "Nothing, Your Majesty. You are the king. Whatever you do is right." Julian chuckled twice, then broke into a fit of coughing. The pageboy announced my arrival in a hushed tone. I boarded the carriage, my eyes fixed on the floor. I knelt, prostrating myself fully. "Your servant, Adrian Thorne, greets His Majesty. Long may you reign." The carriage fell silent. Another bout of coughing, then Julian's gentle voice. "It's only been a few days, Adrian. Must you be so formal? You treat me like a stranger." My eyes remained downcast. "I would not dare." "Don't kneel. Get up," he said, a note of displeasure in his tone. I rose obediently. I saw Leon holding a small bowl, stirring a concoction of pear water with a silver spoon. He waited for it to cool before handing it to Julian. "Drink this." He was capable of such tenderness. Just not for me. The one Leon chose, from beginning to end, was always Julian. Even the throne, Leon had won it for him. My father had once doted on me more than anyone. Yet on his deathbed, he named Julian his successor. It was Leon who delivered the decree. I didn't believe it. The court didn't believe it. But Leon crushed all dissent, killing a few key nobles with brutal efficiency to force Julian onto the throne. He knew. He knew how desperately I wanted to be king. He knew how much my mother and I had sacrificed for that ambition. He knew that for one of us to rise, the other must fall. He knew it all. And he chose Julian. In truth, Leon had always chosen Julian. I was the fool who thought I could ever compete. Only after I had fallen, broken and defeated, did I understand. What isn't yours can never be taken, no matter how you fight. Now, having lost everything, I had finally accepted it. I was a prince of the blood. What kind of servant couldn't I have? Was it really worth losing myself over a castrated slave?
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