The delicate chime of a distant bell pierced Queen Melina's slumber. Her eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through heavy curtains. She inhaled deeply, the crisp morning air carrying a hint of frost.
Melina's fingers trailed across the silk sheets as she pushed herself upright. Her gaze fell on the man beside her, his bare form sprawled carelessly across the bed. His hand absently scratched his backside as he mumbled incoherently.
A sharp rap at the door drew her attention. "Enter," Melina called, her voice cutting through the morning stillness.
Hinges creaked as the door swung open. A young maid stepped inside, her head bowed low, eyes fixed on the ornate carpet. "Your Majesty," she murmured, "would you prefer hot or cool water for your morning ablutions?"
Melina's arms prickled with gooseflesh as she stood. The stone floor sent a shiver through her bare feet. "It's damn cold," she muttered, lips curling. "Bring the heated water."
The maid bobbed her head in acknowledgment, then hesitated. Her gaze darted to the bed, where the man had let out a thunderous yawn. "And... the male Bedni, Your Majesty?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Melina's eyes narrowed as she regarded the man. A smirk played at the corners of her mouth. "He ends up like all the male Bednis I have bedded," she said, voice laden with contempt. "Get the guards to deal with him."
As the maid scurried away, Melina approached her mirror. Her reflection stared back - pale skin unmarred, curves accentuated by her straight-backed posture. She tilted her chin, admiring the line of her jaw.
Behind her, bedsheets rustled. "Your Majesty," the man's voice was thick with sleep. "Forgive me for my indiscretions."
Melina turned, each movement deliberate. She glided towards the bed, hips swaying. "You were good to me last night," she purred. "After the horrid sight I had to see, you were... comforting."
The man's lips curved into a lopsided grin. "I would do anything for my queen," he said, eyes shining with earnest devotion.
A low chuckle rumbled in Melina's throat. "I like your kind of men," she said, something dangerous glinting in her eyes.
Another knock interrupted them. Melina straightened, face smoothing into regal impassivity. "Come in," she commanded.
The door swung open. Three women staggered in, muscles straining as they carried a massive wooden basin. Six more followed, each balancing steaming buckets of water. They moved with practiced efficiency, setting the basin down and filling it with a chorus of splashes.
Melina watched them silently, her gaze distant. Then, without a word, she stripped off her nightclothes, letting them fall to the floor in a soft pile. She stepped into the basin, the heated water enveloping her, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. The maidservants immediately set to work, lathering the water and scrubbing her skin with practiced hands.
The boy, now fully awake, began to dress, his movements clumsy and awkward in the presence of such refined elegance. Melina's gaze followed him, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Do you know," she said, her voice soft but sharp, "that I am the possessive type?"
The boy paused, looking at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "I didn't notice, Your Majesty," he replied cautiously.
"Well," Melina continued, her tone cold, "I am. I don't like anyone else touching what belongs to me or what I once wanted."
He hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I didn't mean to offend—"
"I don't always stoop so low as to ride a Bedni," she interrupted, her voice laced with disdain. "It just isn't me. But some nights are more difficult than others. The King is in this palace, and yet he is so far away."
The boy swallowed, sensing the change in her demeanor. He tried to hide his discomfort as he pulled on his clothes, eager to leave the room. "Your Majesty, if there's anything more I can do—"
Melina cut him off with a sigh. "I have needs too, you know," she said, her voice almost wistful. "And he takes care of his with a flurry of Bednis and servants alike. I try to be righteous, but then one of your kind comes along, and I fall to sin. I touch filth."
The boy chuckled nervously, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm glad filth like me could help the crown," he said, forcing a smile.
Melina's eyes darkened, and she beckoned him closer with a single finger. He obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest. "Come closer," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
He stepped forward, his hands trembling slightly as he stood before her. Melina's lips curled into a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only a cold, calculated malice. "After this," she whispered, her voice dripping with venom, "you'll be hot shit. The men will want a taste of what has been in me, and the women will want to feel the pleasure that I felt. Does that sound alright to your ears?"
The boy's smile faltered, his eyes widening in fear. He shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. "No, Your Majesty."
Melina's smile widened, and she nodded approvingly. "I knew I liked you," she said softly. "And that is why I have to take necessary precautions to ensure things are set right."
Before the boy could react, the door burst open, and the guards barreled inside. Panic surged through him, and he tried to run, but they were too quick. One of the guards punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him, and then grabbed him again, holding him in place.
"Please," the boy gasped, his voice choked with fear. "I don't want to die."
Melina stood up from the basin, water trickling down her body and back into the pool. She motioned for the guards to bring him closer, her eyes never leaving his. "I have no intention of killing a man who helped his queen out," she said, her voice calm and almost soothing. "All they are here to do is cut it out."
The boy's face drained of color, his mind reeling as he realized what she meant. "Your Majesty… what do you mean by that?" he stammered, his voice quivering with terror.
Melina's gaze drifted down to his pants, where a growing erection strained against the fabric. "I will be the last you ever had," she said, her tone cold and final.
Realization dawned on the boy, and he began to scream, tears streaming down his face as he struggled against the guards' hold. "No! Please, no! This doesn't have to be the case! I can be yours, and yours alone! I won't have sex with anyone else! I'll be your toy! Only yours!"
But Melina had already turned away, sinking back into the basin as if his pleas were nothing more than the buzzing of a fly. "Tempting," she murmured, her voice detached. "But my loyalties are to my husband and king."
The boy's screams grew louder, more desperate, as the guards dragged him away. His voice echoed down the hall, growing fainter until it was swallowed by the distance.
Melina closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the water soothe her. Her heart was steady, her mind clear. She had done what needed to be done, what was expected of her as queen. And though a part of her felt a twinge of guilt, she quickly buried it, reminding herself of her duty.
She had made a choice long ago—to stand by her husband, to rule by his side, no matter the cost. And she would continue to do so, no matter how many sacrifices had to be made along the way.
The queen's bath continued, her servants working in silence, their hands steady as they scrubbed her skin because a sight like this was not new to them. They moved with practiced ease, their expressions impassive, as if the cruelty they had witnessed moments before was just another task to be completed.
Melina leaned back in the basin, her eyes half-lidded with a mixture of contentment and thoughtfulness. She allowed herself to relax, the warmth of the water soothing the tension in her muscles. After a moment, she glanced at one of her maids, her tone almost casual. "The boy," she began, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Has he been taken under my wing?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," one of the maids replied promptly, her head bowed. "As early as dawn, he was picked up by one of the girls and relegated to the kitchen."
A slow, sly smile curled on Melina's lips. "Ah, why'd you put him there?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. There was always a deeper motive behind such decisions, and she wanted to know what her maid had in mind.
The maid hesitated for a moment, then answered, "There's a particularly hard dish on the menu today, Your Majesty."
Melina's interest sharpened. "And what dish might that be?"
The maid's voice dropped slightly, almost conspiratorial. "Pufferfish, Your Majesty. The boy has been put in charge of cooking it."
The queen's smile widened, a dark gleam in her eyes. "Which he will undoubtedly fail at," she mused, the amusement in her voice evident. "And in doing so, he'll poison the food taster."
The maid nodded, her expression carefully neutral, though there was a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. "Indeed, Your Majesty. It will seem as though he wanted you dead."
Melina chuckled, a rich, throaty sound that filled the room. "Treason," she said, the word rolling off her tongue like a sweet delicacy. "The noose will be back around his neck in no time."
"That was smart," she added, her tone approving as she glanced at the maid. "Very smart."
The maid bowed her head slightly, a faint smile of pride playing on her lips. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Melina leaned back in the basin, her thoughts turning over the situation in her mind. A sudden idea struck her, and she looked at the maid with a new glint in her eyes. "You know what," she said slowly, a wicked smile curling on her lips, "invite my son for breakfast. I want him to be there when it happens."
The maid looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes for just a moment before she quickly masked it with obedience. "For sure, my queen," she replied.