The Beginning of Everything by Kristen Ashley Page 0,52
noticed priests all around, their robes not white, but black, their hoods drawn up, their faces obscured, but he knew them…
He knew his brethren was around him.
And he could see right in front of him, Seph’s face surrounded by his hood in the candlelight.
“You risk much to have your arse fucked,” he bit out.
“My brother—” Drey tried.
Another lash across his arse and Drey’s neck tensed, his teeth clenched, and they stayed that way for three more.
The whip stopped and Seph, who had not let go of his hair, started speaking again.
“Were you not, this very morn, in a meeting to finalize the plot?” he demanded to know.
“I was,” Drey whispered weakly. “But, sir—”
More blows landed, and more blood started slinking down his thighs.
When they stopped, Seph carried on.
“The last attempt, our brother was forced into the pits.” Drey’s head was jerked back farther by his hair. “Everyone needs to stay sharp. There will be a time when these men will be at our command and you can get yourself fucked as often as you like by as many as you like. We will have Firenze. We will have Wodell. And once we do, Airen will have no choice but to fall. We’ll burn The Enchantments and enslave the Nadirii and their magic to our will and Triton will be ours. But now, you have but one focus. You do…your duty…to…The Rising,” he bit, slammed Drey’s face into the slab and released his hair.
G’Drey was blinking away stars again when he felt Seph’s presence had left him, but it didn’t go far.
He knew this when Seph spoke to the others in the room.
“Leave him until morning in order that he can ruminate on his transgressions. Then have a recruit tend him. No Go’Ella see this,” he ordered. “And do not allow Jell or Liam anywhere near. Both of them are of the old guard and will be on a horse to Go’Doan to report this faster than you can say ‘Go’Doan Rising.’”
“Can those of us who want it use his arse before we go?” a voice Drey knew requested, and he winced when he flexed that area on his person as his answer to that.
“No,” Seph thankfully replied.
“Can we use his face?” a different voice he also knew asked.
“For fuck’s sake, fuck each other and stop bothering me with this absurdity,” Seph said on a sigh.
Drey heard shuffling feet and whispering robes, some of the candles were extinguished, and when the noises were mostly gone, he heard Seph order softly from a new position at his other end, “The recruits don’t enter until they have my leave.”
“Yes, my liege,” a voice replied.
Drey belatedly started trembling.
He heard a heavy door close.
But he knew he’d been left alone with Seph.
His liege.
At least…there. In Firenze. Where Seph was in charge of this part of The Rising.
There was silence.
Drey continued to tremble.
And he waited.
Seph finally spoke.
“You have a lover in Go’Doan, do you not?”
“Y-yes,” Drey answered.
“He is of The Rising,” Seph remarked.
“Y-yes. H-he recruited me.”
His voice was contemplative when he noted, “Yes. Our brother G’Fenn. Alas, it is unfortunate Fenn will lose his hole.”
After delivering that, an unmistakable noise came forth and Drey closed his eyes against it, thankful the flesh of his backside was so raw, he barely felt it, only felt the sting of the salt when Seph’s seed he’d milked through his own hand landed on it.
“I own you now, brother,” Seph whispered thickly. “I am no warrior, but trust me, I will use you well.”
Drey said nothing but the trembling did not stop when he heard the heavy door open and shut.
But what he thought was that his lover was far more powerful than Seph.
And Fenn would not like his “hole” used and definitely not abused.
He liked Drey’s bottom as it had been.
So when they were joined by Drey’s chosen, they would see who owned who.
And G’Drey filed vengeance against Seph amongst the other transgressions that would eventually have his attention.
Not to mention, the two of his brethren who had sought to use him against his will.
But first, they had an assassination to carry forth.
For nothing was as important as The Rising.
15
The Procession
King Mars Laches
The Crown Prince’s Bedchamber, Second Floor, West Corridor, Catrame Palace, Fire City
FIRENZE
“The queen, my king.”
Mars looked from tying the laces at the side of his waist to the servant boy who was speaking.
“Allow her entry,” he murmured, thinking that very soon, when anyone mentioned “the queen,” they would be referring to a different person.