Chapter 5: Envy

Envy

 

Callie tries to feel bad about it, but she doesn’t. From their first meeting, she hates the other Devotia. And from what she can tell, the feeling is mutual. 

 

It was so many small things all at once. Junivere had a confidence that was charming at best and malicious at worst - hovering around arrogance most of the time. Her eyes would flick up and down a person, sizing them up in such a way that Callie knew she could read a person’s deepest insecurities in seconds. And she was clever, piecing together witty remarks at the perfect moment, with the perfect timing, as though conversation was a script and only she knew the lines. 

 

And gods she was hot, and loved it. Junivere is only a few inches taller than Callie and probably only a few years older, but she seems so much larger; her body carrying curves that Callie could hardly believe were real. Her hips are low and wide, pulling onlookers eyes along helplessly as she walks. Her eyes are a fierce shade of green, amplified by dark and wavy hair that fell just past her jaw. 

 

Callie had been expecting to see her at the banquet. It never occurred to her that not only would Junivere need a place to stay, but that the only fitting place would also be her villa. The home that had once felt far too empty now felt suffocatingly full. 

 

“I hear you are the first uninitiated Devotia in quite some time,” Junivere says to her as they enter together. “I hope you’ll last longer than Ellava.” 

 

Callie can’t read the tone in her voice. There’s some suggestion within it, but Junivere manages to disguise it so carefully that it’s lost on Callie. “It’s a lot to learn,” she replies softly. 

 

“I’m sure you’ll adjust,” Junivere’s hand waves dismissively. “Suul chose you, after all. She must see something in you.” 

 

Callie is quiet, unsure of how to answer, but feeling full of a tension she can’t explain. Something inside of her tells her not to trust Junivere, though she can’t find a reason why not. They were both Devotia after all. Why didn’t it feel like they were allies?

 

“What did she say to you at the anointing?” The Devotia asks her, arriving in one of the lounging rooms and gracefully laying back onto a sofa. 

 

“She… um…” Callie thinks back, trying to push away the unease in her stomach. “I didn’t hear from her.” 

 

“That’s rare,” Junivere shakes her head slowly. “But you have given out blessings, haven’t you?” 

 

“Yes,” Callie squeaks. She feels her skin warm slightly, suddenly aware of the things she and Calvin had done just a few feet away. She can’t bring herself to meet her fellow Devotia’s gaze, eyes scrambling with the hope he hadn’t accidentally left any of his gear behind. 

 

“There’s no need to be shy about it,” Junivere sits up, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “Every Devotia has done it. Tell me about it,” she pats the cushions to her right. 

 

“I’d rather not,” Callie says quietly, eyes fixed to the tile floor below. 

 

“How did he serve you?” She pushes more. “Or she? Was your first time with a woman?”  

 

Callie remains silent, feeling flustered at how forward her counterpart is. It was easier to talk with the priestesses, but there’s something hungry about the way that Junivere’s questions probe. 

 

“Come on, Callana,” she huffs, voice dropping towards concern instead of annoyance. “If you can’t talk about it with a fellow Devotia, how are you supposed to talk about it with your supplicants? How did your first show devotion to you?” She crosses her arms against her chest, leaning forward to try and get Callie to look at her. “And don’t tell me it wasn’t sexual. I can tell from your face that it was.” 

 

Callie shakes her head slowly, taking a step backwards. “I should go prepare for bed.” 

 

Callie begins to walk away, but suddenly her body lurches to the side. Warm, golden tendrils of light wrap around her wrists, pulling her backwards into the nearest column and holding her in place. She lets out a gasp as her body slams into the marble, feeling a shock of dull pain across her back. 

 

“I don’t think you understand the position you’re in, Callana,” Junivere stands, hand extended out and glowing. “Do you know how many people are watching you right now? Do you know how much pressure there is on a Devotia to not fuck things up?” 

 

“I’m well aware that everyone is expecting me to-,” 

 

“I’m not sure you are,” Junivere steps forward, hand twisting slightly to pull the cords tighter. “Do you realize how unusual it is that Velena needed to call me here? That’s not a good look for you. People will be talking.” 

 

“I didn’t ask her to bring you here,” Callie huffs, trying to fight the cords but quickly realizing it's futile. She hadn’t expected Junivere to be a mage. 

 

“But that’s the thing,” she continues closing the gap between them, “You need me here and you don’t seem to grasp it.” 

 

“I don’t need you-,” 

 

Callie is interrupted as the bonds suddenly tighten, cutting off her breath for a brief moment before loosening again. Junivere rolls her eyes, scowling deeply. “You don’t need me? Then tell me about your first blessing.” The tendrils tighten to punctuate her point. “And don’t spare any details.” 

 

Callie feels her mind race. Not only is she nervous about talking it through, she isn’t sure she could do it without revealing she’s threaded. Given Junivere’s reactions so far, it isn’t something Callie is keen on telling her. She just shakes her head quietly, lips tightly pressed together. 

 

Junievere sighs, stepping closer to Callie and dropping her voice low. “What’s their name?” 

 

She thinks about telling Junivere, but Callie’s pride holds her back. She’s not about to give the mage any more leverage. She puts on a defiant, upturned expression, looking away. 

 

“You’re not a princess, locked away in some tower to be lusted after but never seen,” Junivere hovers over her, leaning her face in to whisper. “You are a Devotia. Drop the prissy attitude and your sheepish, scandalized, virginal demeanor and accept that.” Junivere’s hand twists, taking away Callie’s ability to breathe once more. 

 

“People are going to try to use you,” the mage warns. “Some won’t be obvious about it. And unless you give them what they want, you’ll be replaceable.” 

 

Callies greedily sucks in air as the cords loosen again. She coughs, feeling a dribble of spit on her chin that she can’t wipe up. “I’m supposed to just let them use me? Isn’t that what Ellava di-,” 

 

“You have to let them think they’re using you,” Junivere is close enough now that Callie can feel her breath on her cheeks, smell the scent of vanilla in her perfume. The mage’s hand lifts to her chin, thumb carefully wiping away the drool. “You need to learn who’s trying to play you, and how to play them back.” 

 

“And are you playing me?” Callie challenges. 

 

“Like a fiddle,” Junivere whispers, leaning back. She takes a long breath, sizing up the bound girl before her. “Devotia die. Often under mysterious circumstances.” Her hand presses Callie’s chest back into the column firmly, though not painfully. “The game is going to try and pass you over. Don’t get left behind.” 

 

Point made, Junivere steps away and gingerly walks out of the room with a proud sway in her step, leaving Callie struggling against the column. 

 

“Hey!” She shouts as the mage struts down the hallway, heels clicking against the stone. “Let me go!” 

 

Callie pulls against the cords, but they hold her tight. She wiggles her body, searching for any possible give in the magic, any potential weakness they might possess, but it’s in vain. She continues shouting for help, and after a few minutes a slightly stumbling Civa charges into the room, eyes wide with alarm. 

 

“What happe-,” Civa begins, but as she speaks, the magical ropes gently dissolve, freeing her. 

 

Callie lets out a groan of frustration, storming down the hall in the opposite direction of Junivere, slamming the door shut to her room with a feeling of resentment in her gut. 

 

– – –

 

Junivere’s commitment to the game becomes wildly apparent to Callie the next afternoon. As she steps out of her room, adorned and decorated for the banquet, she is surprised to find Calvin waiting for her. His normal armor is gone, replaced instead with a set of superficial plates sparsely placed over vibrant red robes, a ceremonial sword at his belt. 

 

“Apologies for disturbing you,” he tells her, stepping back from the door that had suddenly swung open in his face, hand raised as though about to knock. “Hal Devotia,” Calvin’s head nods to the side, gesturing down the hallway towards Junivere’s quarters, “summoned me to accompany you at the banquet as your protection.” 

 

Without thinking, Callie closes the door in his face, pressing her forehead into the solid wood. Her heart is torn between a fluttery feeling of excitement and a grave sense of dread. She knows, her mind asserts gloomily. How does she already know?

 

She rolls her head, side-to-side against the door, trying to strategize. It’s a trap, she grumbles, it has to be a trap. A second later, another dreadful thought takes control. Velena told her. She sighs. 

 

This must be her way of driving a wedge between me and him, she concludes, though she isn’t quite sure how. Velena’s warnings about attachment circle like hawks inside her, hungry for any stray feelings of romance to be caught in the open. 

 

“Hal Devotia?” Calvin calls to her, gently rapping his knuckles on the door. “Shall I return another time-,” 

 

She quickly pulls open the door to face him, hoping her face is less easy to read than it felt. “It is a generous offer, Knight-Commander,” Callie says, desperately attempting to project confidence in her voice, “but it’s only a banquet, not a stroll through a bandit’s camp.” 

 

“With the way some of these nobles are,” he smirks, “I might feel safer with the bandits.” 

 

“Regardless, your protection will not be necessa-,” 

 

“Have I done something to offend you?” Calvin’s voice is sweet and simple and betrays a nervousness that was rare for him. For a tiny moment, the formality of rank and courtesy seem to leave him, and Callie can feel her heart sink. 

 

“Of course not,” she whispers, regretting it immediately. 

 

Don’t be left behind, Junivere’s warning haunts. As much as she wished she could pull Calvin into her bed chambers and tell the banquet to fuck off, she can’t escape the feeling that someone is trying to entrap her. 

 

“I thought you would be pleased to see me, hal Devotia,” his eyes peer into her, trying to read the mess of emotions she felt inside and clearly coming up short. 

 

I am! Obviously, I am! Callie’s insides ache to throw her arms around him. She pushes it down, scrambling to figure out what the right move is. It eludes her, so she throws up a stoic neutrality, attempting to shove down her emotions, “Very well, Knight-Commander.” She steps out of the doorway, “Lead the way.” 

 

Calvin stares at her for a moment, confused, but obeys. He steps in front of her, strolling out into the courtyard and away from the Imperium’s Great Hall. 

 

Hal Devotia summoned me, she repeats in her head, over and over again as they walk. Summoned me.

 

Callie’s eyes scan him bitterly. Is his hair disheveled at all? Is that a stain on his tunic or a shadow? 

 

Velena greets them as they approach the wide gates that separates the Sun district, home to the Devotia’s villa and the Imperium, from the rest of the city. If the Magister has any reaction to seeing the Knight-Commander walking with her, she disguises it expertly.  

 

“Hal Devotia, Knight-Commander,” Velena nods, gesturing for them to follow her through the gate, “you are as radiant as the sun today.”

 

Callie throws a frustrated look at the Magister, still unable to read her expression. What was she plotting? Velena offers a smile towards Calvin as he passes, and Callie dissects it viciously, hunting for any indicators of… well, anything. 

 

As Callie is led onto the streets of Solva, she is immediately reminded of why she fled here in the first place. The city bustles with life; push-carts and pedestrians strolling about as small markets and vendors dotted the crowded streets. She hears the clopping of horses and mules, pulling carriages or carts as people weave around them. She’d heard that more than fifty-thousand people lived here, and staring out onto the streets it wasn’t hard to believe. 

 

It’s been over a week since she’s left the Devotia’s villa, and as she scrambles to take in all of the noise and movement around her that she also recalls that it’s also the first time she’s left as the Devotia. Callie enjoys a precious few moments of anonymity before onlookers suddenly realize they’re in the presence of Suul’s anointed. 

 

A crowd circles around them, cheering and celebrating as they notice the sparkling white robes. Calvin steps forward in front of her, signaling a handful of other knights to block the crowd’s advance. Unsure of herself, Callie waves a timid hand in their direction, greeting them with a nervous smile as Velena directs the path forward towards the banquet. 

 

Debris gently rains down from nearby roofs as Callie makes her way through the streets of the city, shielded from the crowds by a wall of knights. Worshippers throw flowers and ribbons to celebrate her appearance, and with a flushed face Callie even notices a pair of underwear bounce off of a knight’s pauldron. 

 

Velena coaches her through the whole walk, reminding her to keep her smile warm and inviting but not too familiar, to keep her walk steady but not rushed, to wave her hand generously but gracefully. “Just remember what we’ve talked about. You’re doing great,” the Magister shepherds. 

 

Callie resents it, her mind too distracted to engage at all with the world around her. She smiles and waves and walks, but the warmth in her face is fake and hollow. 

 

Hal Devotia summoned me, her thoughts circle as she strides a few steps behind the Knight-Commander. 

 

Junivere wasn’t there for my training with Velena this morning, Callie deliberates, occasionally shooting a suspicious glance at the cheery Magister beside her. When could Velena have told her about Calvin. Last night? 

 

She sidesteps a bouquet of flowers as her brooding continues, hidden behind a pretty complexion. When did Junivere summon him? She must’ve done it while Callie was distracted with Velena in the morning. 

 

That’s a lot of time they could be alone, a tiny voice suggests, and Callie stops in her tracks for a moment. Velena glances over at her, curious, but she plays it off by blowing a kiss to a group of onlookers before continuing her walk. 

 

He wouldn’t go to her for a blessing, she argues, taking another look at the back of Calvin’s head. 

 

“-not to remain with any group for too long,” Velena is saying, once again feeding her advice about dealing with the nobles, but Callie isn’t listening. 

 

She’s a Devotia, the voice interjects again. And he’s a loyal devotee. He doesn’t want to stay with you, why would he refuse her?  

 

She briefly wonders if Junivere even has the authority to act as a Devotia in Solva, but inside Callie knows it’s a foolish thing to hope for. She’d only given out two blessings in a week - how many could Junivere give in a day? 

 

Is there a pep in his step today?

 

We’re being paraded around and cheered at, she rebuts the voice, he’s just doing his best to look commanding. 

 

Why would he worry if he had offended you? He’s feeling guilty… 

 

Callie lets out a restrained breath, once again scanning for any tiny clue on the Knight-Commander, coming up short. He wouldn’t do that. 

 

Would he?

 

“-and what will you do when Lord Dein approaches you?” Velena asks as they reach the gates of the Hill District, home of most of Solva’s nobility. 

 

“Comment on how lovely the decor is, with as much detail as possible, and pivot quickly away from any questions about my time as Devotia,” Callie replies flatly. 

 

Velena lets out a prepared breath, smiling. “You’ll do great. Hal Devotia.” She turns to Calvin, “Knight-Commander, would you do the honors of announcing our presence to the Herald?”

 

Calvin nods, placing his fist to his chest in a casual salute and walking into the nearest villa. Velena turns to Callie, stepping just inside the gates of the district to escape the noise of the crowd. “Are you ready?” 

 

“Where’s Junivere?” Callie asks quickly, head swiveling around them. “I had expected her to walk with us.” 

 

Something flashes behind Velena’s eyes, which Callie takes careful note of. “Hal Devotia arrived ahead of us. She will already be inside.” 

 

Callie resists the desire to roll her eyes. The game begins, she thinks to herself, crossing the threshold of the villa as Calvin waves her to the back garden. 

 

The game began last night, the voice corrects her. This is simply the next round. 

 

While the Villa isn’t nearly as large or spacious as her own, Callie admires how much more lavish it is. Frescoes color the ceilings all throughout the main atrium, scenes from the various stories of Suul and the history of Solva. Callie doesn’t recognize many, though she does marvel briefly at how many of them contain nudity. Large statues and sculptures border the room as a group of musicians let their sound travel across the highly acoustic dome. 

 

The garden is no different, featuring wide stone walkways and freshly manicured patches of grass. Marble sculptures and green hedges separate the garden into comfortable pockets of space across the edges, and a large dance floor covers the center. 

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Dozens of extravagantly adorned guests turn their attention as the herald announces her arrival, stepping to the side to allow for an uninterrupted view of the Devotia's debut. She feels their eyes soak up her presence greedily as she emerges, hungry for her gaze. 

 

But Callie’s eyes don’t meet any of theirs, instead fixating immediately on the sight of Junivere lounging comfortably on a strong recliner, surrounded by nobles tending to her every need. One gently fans her face, eager to please. Another waits at her side offering a tray with a glass of wine to her, thrilled to be near her. Yet another kneels at her side, holding a bowl for her to spit out the pits of olives that a final noble feeds her one by one. 

 

And Junivere’s face brightens with a smug expression as she reaches a hand over to one of the nobles serving her, her touch sending a menagerie of illuminated tendrils across his body as she bestows a blessing. The crowds’ excitement at Callie’s arrival is suddenly pulled into an applause for the reclining Devotia. Her eyes meet Callie’s, and she winks. 

 

“Hal Devotia, Lord Magister” a deep voice approaches Callie, arms wide open and welcoming. “You honor us with your presence.” 

 

He bows, and Callie vacantly offers her hand to him, which he kisses lightly. “Lord Dein,” Callie replies, earning a nod of approval from Velena beside her. “Your attention to detail is unmatched. You have certainly spared no expense.” 

 

Velena's shoulders seem to relax slightly, and she steps away from Callie to make another greeting. 

 

“Only the best for hal Devotia, and nothing less,” Lord Dein smiles as he rises up to meet her. Extending a hand to a woman behind him, he adds, “My wife, Lady Pendele arranged it all, outdoing herself, I believe.” 

 

“I especially appreciate the eagles,” Callie tells them, nodding to a pair of statues nearby, her eyes still flicking back to glare at Junivere. “You must send my compliments to the sculptor.” 

 

“Why of course, hal Devotia,” Lady Pendele curtsies. 

 

“We have so anxiously awaited your appearance, hal Devotia,” Lord Dein continues. “It feels ages since Suul’s anointed has graced our threshold. Pray, tell me, what has the Great Sun asked of yo-,” 

 

“My apologies, Lord Dein,” Callie says quickly. “I believe I am being summoned by my counterpart ,” she nods towards Junivere, “If you’ll excuse me.” 

 

“Of course,” Lord Dein bows lightly, and Callie dismisses the faint undertone of annoyance in his voice, marching to face her fellow Devotia. 

 

As Callie approaches, Junivere waves a lazy hand to dismiss the gathered nobles, blowing a kiss to the one she had blessed. She swears one of the nobles shoots her an impatient glance as she passes Callie. 

 

“So good of you to join me, Callana,” Junivere gestures for Callie to sit beside her, which she doesn’t. 

 

“How did you do that?” Callie demands, crossing her arms. 

 

“You look lovely,” she ignores. “I’m glad to see you clean up well. Sit with me,” she gestures again. 

 

Callie sighs, plopping down into a seat at Junivere’s left. A sharp scowl sears onto her face as she glares at the mage. 

 

“Remember that eyes are upon you,” Junivere whispers. “Do be sure to smile.” 

 

Callie rolls her eyes, tucking her ankles together and leaning back into the chair. She couldn’t care less about the crowd around her. Her mind felt consumed by questions, by jealousy, by envy… by Junivere herself. Within a day, her fellow Devotia had lodged herself deeply under Callie’s skin and she felt an obsessive need to be better than her, to prove her wrong. 

 

“Now, what was your question?” Junivere reclines further, arms behind her head. Callie flashes a frustrated glance at her, eyes asking if repeating the question was really necessary. “Don’t be shy. You can ask me anything.” 

 

Callie stifles a sigh and pushes her words out, much to the chagrin of her pride. “How did you give out a blessing so easily?” She asks, voice strained and quiet. 

 

Junivere smirks at her, shade shielding most of her body from the midday sun. She thinks for a moment, then shifts her head to face the entrance to the garden. “That Knight-Commander is really quite handsome, isn’t he? He’s so loyal, so devoted - like a puppy.” 

 

Callie’s chests tightens and she represses her anger. Her fists clench, wishing they could crash into Junivere - but even if she could act on those feelings, she knew what the mage was capable of. Instead, she stands quickly, storming away from the smug look she was sure was pointed at her. 

 

Hal Devotia summoned me. 

 

She throws herself into conversations with a stubborn pride, quickly introducing herself and absent-mindedly engaging with the generous platitudes of nobility. 

 

“It really is quite warm today,” she agrees with Lady Hegra. 

 

How was Junivere supposed to be helping her by being so… terrible? 

 

“Oh no, the villa is far more extravagant than I could have ever dreamed. I come from a very humble background, indeed,” Callie answers Lord Waverel. 

 

 It was a simple question. If I’m supposed to do this job well, I need to know how to give out blessings like that. 

 

“Suul’s wisdom must supercede our own on this matter, Lady Saldove, but I will be sure to enquire about your husbands’ condition.” 

 

“Only two blessings?” She doesn’t understand the pressure I’m under. How’d she feel if she had to run away because she was threaded? 

 

“What about the Glass-smith’s Guild? I’d imagine they could easily meet those standards, Sir Gohthe.” 

 

“You need me here, Callie.” “You can’t even talk about it, can you Callie?” “I’m so much prettier than you, Callie.” “God, I’m insufferable, aren’t I, Callie?” 

 

“Hal Devotia, wonderful to greet you again,” Lord Dein approaches, nearly an hour of small talk later. “I was so sorry that our previous conversation was cut so short.” 

 

“A tragedy indeed, Lord Dein,” Callie shifts, trying to get a better view of Junivere surrounded by the gawking nobles. She swore that the Devotia was trying to get to her, refusing to even look back at Callie. 

 

“I was wondering if I might bend your ear for a moment, hal Devotia, if it isn’t too much trouble?” 

 

Callie thinks back to Velena’s guidance earlier today. She’d told Callie to be wary of Dein, especially whatever he might request from her. But Callie can only feel a sense of betrayal. Someone must have told Junivere about Calvin, and Callie is sure it had been Velena. 

 

I’m the Devotia, she grumbles. I can make my own decisions. 

 

“Please, Lord Dein, continue.” 

 

“Well, as you may recall, or have been informed from the Lord Magist-,” 

 

Callie glares past him at Junivere, who waves a new figure to join her party. She struggles to see who the mage is calling, trying to avoid awkwardly staring. 

 

“- has truly been a mess, though I am sure you can’t tell from the state of this lovely property-,” 

 

Callie’s skin crawls as she sees Calvin approach the Devotia, bowing as he arrives. 

 

“- Lady Pendele, my wife, as you may recall, requested that the arbiter-,” 

 

Junivere extends her hand out to him, which he kisses softly. Callie swears she can see his lips ask, “How may I be of service, Hal Devotia?” 

 

“- regardless, I don’t mean to bore you with this whole tale, hal Devotia.” 

 

“Nonsense, Lord Dein, do continue.” 

 

Calvin stands behind the Devotia, removing his gauntlets to place his hands onto her shoulders. He massages them gently, though Junivere directs him to apply more pressure. 

 

“-and so, with the parting of your predecessor, which was a sorry loss for us all-,” 

 

Callie’s skin burns and her chest shivers as she watches his fingers rub into her soft skin, twisting and kneading with great care. She can practically feel Calvin’s palms pressuring into her own flesh, knowing that’s where they belonged, almost as though she were now being massaged. Callie rolls her shoulders as inconspicuously as possible, aching for his touch. His hands drop to Junivere’s upper arms, squeezing them tenderly and teasing out the sore spots. 

 

“-our house would be most gracious if hal Devotia might honor us with a blessing to remedy this.” 

 

Junivere sits up slightly as Calvin finishes. He smiles, nodding again to her, and she reaches up to place a kiss on his cheek. Callie can feel her arms trembling as she takes a hasty sip of wine. 

 

“What do you say, hal Devotia? Might this be possible?” 

 

Junivere pulls Calvin to stand in front of her, guiding him to kneel down as the eyes around them focus upon her. Ribbons of light slowly cascade around his body as Junivere places a kiss upon his forehead, lips pressed against his skin and hands cupping his chin as her eyes dart upwards to meet Callie’s horrified glare. 

 

“Of course, Lord Dein,” Callie snaps back to focus on the man in front of her. “I think we could absolutely arrange a blessing for your house,” she clears her dry throat. 

 

“Really? Hal Devotia your generosity is unmatched. When might we be summoned to-,” 

 

“Now,” she interrupts, refusing to stare at Junivere any longer. She nods, the inertia of decision welling up inside of her. “Your Devotia is feeling generous now.” 

 

“Now?” Lord Dein stares at her hungrily. “I should go ask my wife befor-,” 

 

“Invite her to join us,” Callie declares. 

 

“Indeed?” Lord Dein practically licks his lips, waving his wife over to join them. 

“Lady Pendele, our Devotia has generously offered to-,” 

 

“Come with me,” Callie stowes her glass with the nearest butler, grabbing Dein by the hand and marching into the villa. His hand grips hers nervously, aware of the scene that it must be causing, but Callie is beyond care. 

 

“Truly, your charitable heart must be eager, indeed,” Lady Pendele exhales quickly, trying to keep pace with Callie’s brisk advance into the central atrium, “hal Devotia.” 

 

“Here,” Callie says suddenly, pulling the two of them into a side hallway and closing the curtain behind them. 

 

“Lord Dein, I must say, this is quite the rush to be inclu-,” Lady Pendele begins, interrupted by Callie energetically pushing her back against the nearest wall, throwing herself into the kiss. 

 

“Hal Devotia,” Dein’s voice practically drips with lust, hands fiddling with the buckles of his tight trousers. 

 

Callie hardly listens, pressing her body into Lady Pendele and wondering if the middle-aged woman had ever kissed a girl before. The noblewoman’s hands were practically bonded to the back of Callie’s neck, bringing the Devotia’s tongue deeper into her eager mouth. 

 

What am I doin-, a voice inside her begins, clumsily interrupted by the feeling of Lord Dein’s cock whipping against the back of her dress. 

 

“This is exhilarating, hal Devotia, never in my wildest dreams could I have anticipated this,” Dein says longingly, hands drifting down to the hem of her skirt, rubbing upwards against the back of her thighs. 

 

Callie felt wild with the feeling of his hands gripping her ass at the same time as his wife’s drifted towards her breasts. It was as though her consciousness was fading away into this feeling, replaced with the base hunger to fuck and be fucked. It was no longer a question of need or desire or generosity, this was simply what had to happen. 

 

She moans into Pendele’s mouth, cheek pressing into her button-nose, her dick harder than she’d care to admit. Callie wants to reach down and feel the woman, feel the sensation of taking control of her, feel the sensation of being inside of her, but Callie’s arms are forced to remain steady against the wall as Dein’s hips begin humping her ass. She grinds with him, throwing away all thoughts and cares of decency, of obligation. 

 

It isn’t until Dein’s fingers reach under her dress, awkwardly searching for the edges of her panties that a sense of alarm crashes through Callie. She jumps forward, laying flat against a gasping Pendele, lifting her head to face Dein. 

 

“What’s wrong, hal-,” 

 

“Wait!” Callie scrambles for words and tries to disguise the worry in her eyes. For a brief moment, she had forgotten what might happen if they knew she was threaded, and now it was far too late. There was a desperation inside of her, and as much as she hated admitting it, she didn’t want to stop. 

 

She takes a breath, passing it off as a quiet moan, and turns to Dein with as much charm as she can muster. “I want you to take me in the back, you understand?” 

 

Dein’s eyes widen, and Callie stifles a sigh as he turns to his wife and says, “You’ve never let me-,” 

 

“My Lord!” Pendele guffaws, and Callie kisses her briefly to quiet her. 

 

“Is it fine if I just put it in? Do I need anything to-,” 

 

“Just spit on it,” Pendele snaps impatiently. Her eyes return to focus on Callie, hungry for more of the Devotia’s lips.

 

“Just don’t touch the front, got it?” Callie warns Dein. “And panties stay on.” 

 

“How will I enter if they’re sti-,” 

 

“Just pull them to the side, Dein,” Callie scowls, amazed Pendele was willing to put up with this. 

 

“Very well,” Dein spits into his hand a few times, rubbing it sloppily along his cock. “Here I go.” 

 

Callie grimaces slightly, fingers digging tightly into the wall as Dein’s tip presses against her asshole. Tears form in the corners of her eyes as he thrusts forward slowly, but she pushes away the pain, directing her focus into shoving her tongue back into Pendele’s mouth. Pendele kisses deeply, hands once again finding their way to Callie’s breasts, which rock with each of Dein’s thrusts. 

 

Dein is hardly shy about expressing his pleasure, gasping loudly with each thrust as though he could finish at any moment. Callie heaves back and forth with him, feeling his dick just barely brush against a good spot, awkwardly shifting her hips to find it. Her breath lurches in her lungs, mostly tired, and sometimes delighted. 

 

“About the blessing… hal Devotia,” he speaks through grunting breaths, “will it be bestowed only when you-,” 

 

“Oh shut it,” Pendele snaps. “He never lasts long enough,” she hisses to Callie, who doesn’t even bother with a response. Her mind feels clouded, as though she was watching herself from beyond, hardly attached to her body at all. Distantly, she could feel pangs of concern, interspersed with tiny jolts of pleasure, but mostly she feels nothing. 

 

She feels nothing as Pendele’s lips slop against her neck. She feels nothing as Dein’s hips slap against her ass. And she certainly feels nothing as he huffs and groans, aching to last just a little while longer. 

 

But as the curtain flips open, her head twisting to meet the horrified shock in the hazel eyes of the Knight-Commander, Callie feels something.

 

 Pain. 

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