[! Warning - Mature Content Ahead]
The palace had grown deathly quiet, with only the soft flicker of torchlight casting long, distorted shadows through the stone hallways. Prince Harris Pennington moved with purpose, his mind weighed down by the political maneuvering of the night. His negotiations with Duchess Madeline Dixon had not gone as smoothly as he hoped, leaving him restless and hungry for more control. His deal for financial support in exchange for tax exemptions was a step forward, but he needed more than that—he needed total domination over the court.
As Harris moved through the palace, a figure appeared from the shadows: Lady Sara Hyenson, daughter of Baron Hyenson, a lesser noble whose family's holdings paled in comparison to the wealth of the duchies. Despite her relatively low rank, Sara had earned a reputation in court as a woman who could maneuver through its treacherous waters with a smile, her charms as sharp as any political tool. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was her cunning that had caught Harris's attention in the past.
Dressed in a deep green gown that clung to her slender frame, Sara's dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her emerald eyes gleamed with something that went beyond simple flirtation. She had a way of appearing when it benefited her most, and tonight was no exception.
"Prince Harris," she greeted him, her voice a sultry whisper that echoed faintly in the stillness of the corridor. "I wasn't expecting to see you alone."
Harris paused, his dark eyes narrowing as they settled on her. He had known Sara for years, though never intimately. She was a woman who operated in the shadows, gathering secrets and favors from those who underestimated her. Though her family didn't hold the power of the larger houses, Sara had managed to position herself as an important player within the palace, always on the periphery of major deals.
"Lady Sara," Harris replied, his voice a low rumble. "It seems the night brings out more than shadows."
Sara smiled, stepping closer to him, her steps slow and deliberate. "You've had a long evening, Your Highness," she observed, her eyes flickering over him as though reading his thoughts. "Negotiating, plotting… it must be exhausting to carry the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders."
Harris didn't reply immediately. He could see the hunger in her gaze, the way she looked at him as if offering something that went beyond mere words. He had little patience for games tonight, but the tension that had been building within him all day demanded release, and Sara was offering it—whether for her own gain or not.
"And what is it you offer, Sara?" Harris asked, his voice dropping lower, thick with intent.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she took another step toward him, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric of his tunic. "A chance to forget the kingdom… for a while," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. "You've worked hard for Ustaria. You deserve a moment for yourself."
Harris's pulse quickened. He had always been a man of action, and tonight, he had no desire to play coy. Sara knew exactly what she was offering, and for once, Harris didn't care about the consequences. He reached out, his hand gripping her waist with enough force to pull her against him, the heat of her body igniting something deep within him.
Sara gasped softly, her chest rising and falling as their faces hovered inches apart, the air between them crackling with tension. Harris's dark eyes bore into hers, and without a word, he lowered his lips to hers, claiming her in a kiss that was more hunger than affection. It was raw, almost primal, the pent-up frustration of the evening finding an outlet in her touch.
Sara responded eagerly, her hands sliding up his chest as she pressed herself against him, her lips parting to deepen the kiss. Harris's hand tightened around her waist, pulling her closer as his other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back slightly to give him more control. The soft sounds of their kissing filled the corridor, the rest of the world falling away as their desires took hold.
Without breaking the kiss, Harris pulled her toward a nearby alcove, hidden from view but close enough to the heart of the palace that the danger of being caught only heightened the intensity of the moment. He pressed her back against the stone wall, his lips moving to her neck, biting and kissing as Sara's breathing grew heavier, her nails scraping lightly against his skin.
Harris's hands roamed over her body with a roughness that bordered on possessive, the tension in his muscles coiling tighter with every passing second. Sara's gown was soft under his touch, but it wasn't enough—he needed more. He needed her. His fingers found the laces at the back of her dress, pulling at them with practiced ease, loosening the fabric until it fell from her shoulders, revealing the pale skin beneath.
Sara let out a soft moan, her head falling back against the stone as Harris's hands moved over her exposed skin, his touch hot and demanding. She reached for him in return, her hands pulling at his tunic, eager to feel the hard planes of his body beneath the layers of clothing. When she finally succeeded, Harris allowed himself a moment to relish the sensation of her hands on his bare skin, the way her fingers traced the lines of his muscles, sending a jolt of heat through him.
With a growl of impatience, Harris gripped her hips and lifted her, pressing her back against the wall as their bodies collided in a tangle of need. Sara's legs wrapped around his waist, her breath coming in shallow gasps as his mouth returned to hers, more forceful than before. The kiss was almost punishing in its intensity, both of them lost to the heat of the moment.
Harris's hands roamed over her thighs, gripping the soft skin as he ground against her, the friction between them enough to drive him wild. Sara gasped against his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders as she arched against him, her body begging for more.
"Your Highness…" she whispered, her voice shaky with desire. "Please…"
Harris didn't need to be asked twice. With one swift motion, he pulled aside the remaining fabric that separated them, his hands guiding her hips as he entered her with a force that made her cry out, her fingers clutching at him for balance. The sound of her pleasure spurred him on, and he began moving, each thrust more intense than the last, his body surging against hers with a need that bordered on desperation.
Sara's moans filled the alcove, her head falling back against the stone wall as she surrendered to the rhythm of their bodies. Harris's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he pushed them both toward the edge, the heat between them burning hotter with every movement.
The tension built quickly, their bodies moving together in a frenzied dance of pleasure and power. Harris could feel the pressure mounting, the coil inside him tightening with every thrust, every moan that escaped her lips. Sara's body trembled beneath his hands, her nails raking down his back as the intensity of their connection threatened to overwhelm them both.
And then, with a final, shuddering thrust, the tension snapped.
Harris let out a low, guttural sound as he found his release, his body shaking with the force of it. Sara cried out, her own body convulsing in pleasure as they reached the peak together, their moans echoing through the empty corridor. For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies pressed tightly together, their breathing heavy and ragged.
When Harris finally pulled away, his chest still heaving, he looked down at Sara, her flushed face and half-lidded eyes a reminder of the power he had over her. He stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning her as she adjusted her dress, still breathless from their encounter. Her smile was slow, satisfied, but there was something else in her gaze—something that told him she hadn't just offered herself for pleasure.
Harris's eyes darkened, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "What do you want, Sara?"
She smirked, leaning against the wall as she straightened her gown, her eyes glinting with amusement. "I want to be close to power, Your Highness. And I think you're the one to get me there."
Harris's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond immediately. He knew better than to believe that this had been without strings. Sara was a woman who always had a motive, and tonight had been no different. She had offered herself to him, and he had taken her, but now she would expect something in return.
But Harris wasn't a man to be manipulated so easily.
"You'll have to earn it," he growled, his voice sharp as he adjusted his tunic, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. "Pleasure won't get you everything you want."
Sara's smile never faltered, but her eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "I'm sure I'll find a way, Your Highness. We all have our roles to play."
Harris stepped closer, his hand gripping her chin as he tilted her face up to meet his gaze, his voice low and dangerous. "Remember this, Sara. I take what I want," Harris growled, his fingers tightening around her chin as his eyes bore into hers. "But that doesn't mean I owe you anything in return."
Sara's smile faltered for just a moment, but she quickly recovered, her sharp eyes glinting with defiance. "You're a man who likes control, Prince Harris. But power isn't always taken with brute force. Sometimes, it's earned in ways you wouldn't expect."
Harris's grip loosened as he let her go, taking a step back. His dark gaze remained locked on hers, calculating. She had offered herself to him in a moment of passion, but there was no doubt that it had been part of a larger game. He had been aware of it, and yet he had allowed himself to indulge. He didn't regret it—he never regretted taking what he wanted—but he knew that Sara Hyenson would be expecting something for her services, no matter how pleasurable they had been.
"Careful, Sara," Harris warned, his voice cold but calm. "You're not the only one playing this game. You may have the court wrapped around your finger, but don't mistake me for one of your pawns."
Sara's smile returned, but there was a sharper edge to it now. "I don't mistake you for anything, Your Highness. I know exactly who you are. A man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants." She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "That's why I'm offering myself to you. You want power, and I know how to help you get it."
Harris remained silent for a moment, his gaze flicking over her face as if searching for any sign of weakness. But Sara had been in this court for too long, playing these games for too many years. She had seen men like Harris before, men who believed strength alone would win them the throne. But Sara understood the subtleties of power better than most—how favors and secrets could move kingdoms just as easily as armies.
"You'll help me?" Harris finally asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
Sara nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes. I have connections in this court, and beyond it, that could prove useful to you. While others may focus on military alliances, I can offer something more discreet. Information. Influence. Secrets that could tip the scales in your favor."
Harris crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable. He knew she was right. While he had secured alliances with powerful nobles like Duke Findlay Windsor, there were other factions within the court that he had yet to bring under his control. Information was a weapon just as valuable as any sword, and Sara was offering to put that weapon in his hands.
"And what do you expect in return for your... assistance?" Harris asked, his tone guarded.
Sara's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with ambition. "I want to ensure my place in your future court. When you take the throne, I want influence—real influence. Not just over my family's lands, but within the palace itself."
Harris's eyes narrowed. She was bold, he had to give her that. But he had no intention of making promises he couldn't keep. "You'll have to earn that influence, Sara. Sleeping with me doesn't guarantee you a seat at my table."
Sara's smirk deepened. "I wouldn't expect it to, Your Highness. But I'm confident that I'll prove my worth."
Harris watched her for a moment longer, his mind racing through the possibilities. He had no doubt that Sara was dangerous—her ambitions were clear, and she would do whatever it took to secure her position. But for now, he could use her. Her connections within the court could prove valuable, and if she became too much of a threat, he knew how to deal with people who crossed him.
"Very well," Harris said, his voice low but decisive. "You'll have your chance to prove your worth. But if you betray me, Sara, you'll regret it."
Sara's smile never faltered as she inclined her head. "I wouldn't dream of it, Your Highness."
With that, Harris turned and walked away, leaving Sara standing in the shadows of the alcove, her eyes gleaming with triumph. He didn't trust her, but he had no intention of ignoring the opportunity she presented. For now, they were allies—of sorts.
As Harris made his way back through the dimly lit corridors, his thoughts returned to the throne. He had made progress tonight. His deal with Duchess Madeline Dixon had secured him the financial backing he needed, and now, with Sara's promise of influence and secrets, he had another weapon in his arsenal.
But the battle for Ustaria's throne was far from over. His siblings—Ruby, David, and even Lilliana—were still out there, each of them maneuvering for their own advantage. The court was a maze of shifting loyalties and hidden alliances, and Harris knew he had to stay one step ahead of them all.
He had the strength to take the throne. Now, he just needed to ensure that no one stood in his way.