The carriage was thick with the smell of sex.
Petra lay crumpled on the floor between the benches. Her rabbit ears drooped limp against her skull. Her thighs were smeared with cum that leaked in slow, viscous trails from her ruined cunt. Her eyes were half-open, unfocused, staring at nothing.
She wasn't getting up anytime soon.
Lina sat on the bench across from Alphonse. Her robes hung open from collar to waist, the fabric parted to reveal the lean bronze body beneath. Her small breasts rose and fell with shallow breaths.
She'd cum. Several times. Her own fingers had been working between her thighs throughout the entire performance.
But through the [Mind Connection], Alphonse could feel it.
It wasn't enough. Not even close.
The hunger was still there.
'More. I need more. I need—'
She cut the thought off. Pressed her lips together. Her fingers, slick with her own arousal, withdrew from between her thighs and gripped the fabric of her robe.
"You want more. I can give to you what I gave her," Alphonse said.
Lina's dark eyes snapped to his face. The professional mask reassembled itself with impressive speed, but not fast enough.
"I'm fine," she said. The words were clipped.
"You're lying."
Through the connection, a spike of irritation. Beneath it, the grudging acknowledgment that he was right.
"It's... complicated," Lina said after a pause. She adjusted her robes, pulling them partially closed.
"Tell me."
Lina's jaw worked. Her eyes moved to the window, to the dark trees sliding past, to anywhere that wasn't Alphonse's face.
"My tribe," she said finally. "The Zahari. We're a merchant clan from the southern coast. Before I joined the guild ..." She gestured vaguely at the carriage, at Petra's prone form. "My family arranged a betrothal. Commercial alliance between two trading houses."
She paused. Drew a breath.
"My grandmother, she was the clan matriarch, and a [Shaman]. She placed a seal on me, a chastity enchantment."
Alphonse's eyebrows rose a fraction.
"It prevents... consummation. With men." Lina's voice was flat. "Any attempt to complete the act triggers the enchantment. For both parties."
"And the betrothal?"
"Collapsed. The other house defaulted on a contract. The marriage was called off." A bitter smile touched her eyes above the veil. "But the seal remained. While they continue negotiating which family they'll sell me off."
'So she can't be penetrated by a man,' Alphonse thought. 'That's why she turned to women. To Petra. The seal doesn't trigger with female partners.'
'But she doesn't actually prefer women. She prefers power. Control. Dominance. The gender of her partner is secondary.'
"I understand," Alphonse said.
Lina's eyes returned to him.
"I can help you," he said.
"How? The enchantment is too deeply integrated."
"I didn't say I'd remove it." He held her gaze. "I said I'd help you."
He let the silence work.
"You can't be with men," Alphonse continued. "Fine. But you can watch and watching isn't your only option."
He looked down at the bench beside him.
At Sophie.
His sister sat in the far corner of the bench. She'd been there the entire time. Through everything.
She had pressed herself into the corner when Alphonse had first mounted Petra. Had watched with wide eyes as her brother's cock split the beastling open. Had listened to the animal screams, the wet slapping, the guttural commands.
She hadn't looked away. Not once.
Through the brand, Alphonse had monitored her the entire time. He knew exactly what was happening inside her.
Her thighs were pressed together. But not quite hard enough. Through the brand, he could feel the rhythmic, almost imperceptible grinding of her hips against the bench.
She was soaked.
'Stop it. Stop moving. She will see—'
Her hips ground forward again..
"Sophie," Alphonse said.
She jumped. Her hand flew to her chest. Her thighs clamped together so hard the muscles in her calves stood out.
"Y-yes?"
"Stand up."
Sophie's eyes darted to Lina. To Petra's unconscious form on the floor. Back to Alphonse.
"Al, I don't think—"
"Stand up, Sophie."
The brand pulsed between them.
Sophie stood.
Alphonse looked at Lina.
"You want to feel it," he said. "Not just watch. You want to be so close that you can taste the intensity. Feel the heat. Hear every sound like it's happening inside your own body."
Lina's breathing had changed. Her fingers, which had been gripping her robe closed, loosened.
"You can't be with men," Alphonse continued. "But there's no seal that prevents you from being in the room when a man takes a woman apart. And there's no seal that prevents you from finishing yourself while it happens three feet away."
He turned to Sophie.
"Take off your clothes."
Sophie's face went scarlet. Her mouth opened. The protest formed — not here, not in front of strangers, not with Lina watching —
The brand silenced it.
Her hands found the laces of her traveling dress. They trembled. The knots resisted her shaking fingers, and she fumbled with the first one for three full seconds before it came loose.
Sophie stood naked in the rocking carriage.
Her body was young. The small, high breasts with their pink nipples stood stiff in the cool air. Her stomach was flat, the faint line of muscle visible beneath the smooth skin.
Between her thighs, a neat patch of golden hair, darker than the hair on her head, glistened with arousal so thick it had begun to run down the inside of her left thigh.
Lina stared.
Through the connection, Alphonse felt the guild representative's reaction. The involuntary, gut-level response to seeing a body that was simultaneously forbidden and desperately desired.
'She's beautiful. God, she's beautiful. The blonde hair. Those small perfect breasts—'
Lina's hand moved beneath her robe.
"Turn around," Alphonse said to Sophie. "Hands on the bench. Bend over."
Sophie obeyed. She turned, presenting her back to the carriage. Her hands found the padded bench, fingers curling into the leather. She bent at the waist.
Her ass rose. Two firm, round cheeks, smaller than Madeleine's or Isabelle's but sculpted and tight. Between them, the glistening pink of her pussy, framed by damp golden curls.
Alphonse stood behind her. His hand found the back of her neck. Pushed her head down until her cheek pressed against the bench.
"Spread your legs."
Her feet moved apart on the carriage floor.
Her cunt opened. The swollen lips parted, revealing the slick, pink interior. Strings of arousal stretched between them.
Alphonse freed his cock. Already hard. Still slick with Petra's fluids and his own cum from the previous round.
He pressed the head against Sophie's entrance.
"Al — please — she's watching — I can't—"
He pushed inside.
"NNHH—!"
Sophie's body lurched forward. Her fingers clawed the bench leather.
He didn't ease in. Didn't give her time. He sank to the hilt in one brutal stroke, his pelvis crashing against the firm swell of her ass, his balls slapping her clit.
"Oh — oh God — oh—"
Lina's robe fell completely open. Both hands were between her thighs now. One rubbing her clit in tight, frantic circles. The other gripping her own small breast, thumbnail digging into the dark nipple.
Her eyes were locked on the junction of their bodies. On the thick shaft splitting Sophie's cunt, glistening with the girl's arousal.
"More," Lina breathed. The word slipped out before she could catch it.
Alphonse gripped Sophie's golden braid. Wound it around his fist and pulled.
Sophie's head jerked back. Her spine curved into a deep bow, her small breasts jutting forward, her mouth falling open in a choked gasp.
Each thrust jolted Sophie's entire frame. Her small tits bounced with the impacts. Her toes curled against the carriage floor. The wet, meaty SLAP of his pelvis against her ass rang through the confined space like applause.
"Who do you belong to?" Alphonse growled, his grip tightening on her braid.
"You — brother — only you — HNGH—"
Lina's fingers worked faster. Her hips rolled against her own hand. Her dark eyes were glazed, fixed on the obscene tableau three feet in front of her.
Through the connection, Alphonse monitored both women simultaneously.
Sophie's mind was dissolving. The embarrassment of being displayed, of being fucked in front of a stranger, was feeding into the arousal rather than suppressing it.
Lina was climbing. The voyeuristic high was different from the direct stimulation she'd experienced watching Petra's breeding. This was sharper. More personal. Sophie wasn't property. She was a nobleman's daughter. A future Academy student. A beautiful, golden-haired girl being sodomized by her own brother while a stranger watched.
The taboo was doing things to Lina that Petra's submission never could.
Alphonse changed angles. He pulled out of Sophie's cunt and pressed the slick head of his cock against a different target.
Sophie's asshole.
The tight, pink pucker clenched at the contact. Sophie's entire body went rigid.
"Al — not — not there — please — she's right there — she can see—"
"That's the point."
He pushed.
The head breached the ring of muscle with a resistance that bordered on violence. Sophie's ass fought him with everything it had. The tight sphincter clamped around his shaft, squeezing with a pressure that made his vision blur.
"AAAHH — NO — IT HURTS — AL PLEASE—"
He sank deeper. Inch by merciless inch. Her body opened for him with agonizing slowness, the impossibly tight channel stretching to accommodate the thickness of his cock.
"Breathe," he ordered.
Sophie's lungs heaved.
He bottomed out. His pelvis pressed against her trembling ass cheeks. His balls rested against her soaked, clenching pussy.
"Oh God," Sophie whimpered. "Oh God, oh God, oh God—"
Every nerve in her body was screaming. The stretch was beyond anything she'd experienced. Burning, tearing, a fullness so absolute that she could feel his cock in her stomach.
Alphonse held himself still. Let her adjust.
He pulled back, then slammed forward.
"AAHHH—!"
The impact drove her face into the bench. Her small tits mashed against the leather. Her body lurched forward and was hauled back by his grip on her braid.
He set a rhythm. Slower than her cunt had received. But deeper.
The sound was filthy. The slick schlick-schlick-schlick of his cum-lubricated cock reaming her virgin asshole, mixed with Sophie's broken moans and the wet sounds of Lina's fingers working herself into a frenzy on the opposite bench.
"Look at her, Lina," Alphonse said through gritted teeth, his hips maintaining their punishing cadence. "Look at my sister taking my cock in her ass. This is what you wanted to see."
Lina couldn't respond. Her jaw was clenched so hard the tendons in her neck stood out. Both hands worked between her thighs with a desperate, graceless urgency. Her hips bucked against her own fingers.
"Does this make you wet?" Alphonse continued. "Watching a brother fuck his sister's ass? Watching her beg and take it anyway?"
"Yes," Lina hissed. The admission ripped from her like a confession under torture. "Yes — God — don't stop — don't you dare stop—"
He reached beneath Sophie. Found her cunt. His fingers plunged between the soaked, swollen lips and found her clit.
Sophie detonated.
Her ass clamped down on his cock with crushing force.
"BROTHER — I'M — AAAHHH—"
The scream shook the carriage walls.
Alphonse drove into her one final time. Buried himself to the hilt in her spasming asshole and came.
His cock swelled and erupted. Thick ropes of cum flooding her bowels, filling her with a scalding heat that made Sophie's orgasm deepen.
Across the carriage, Lina shattered.
Her thighs clamped around her own hands. Her body shook for fifteen seconds. Twenty.
Then she collapsed against the bench. Her hands fell from between her thighs, slick and trembling.
Alphonse withdrew from Sophie slowly.
Sophie's legs gave out. She slid off the bench and crumpled to the floor beside Petra, landing in a graceless heap of tangled limbs and sticky fluids.
Three women destroyed. One man standing.
The following day broke clear and mild.
The road improved within the first hour. The rutted, half-maintained forest track gave way to harder-packed earth reinforced with gravel. Then, as the convoy crested a low ridge and descended into a broad, sun-drenched valley, they reached it.
The Emperor's Way.
The grand stone-paved highway stretched before them. Arrow-straight, forty feet wide, its surface fitted with interlocking blocks so precisely shaped that not a single blade of grass grew between them. On either side, drainage channels ran parallel to the road. Every half-mile, stone markers displayed the imperial crest and the distance to the next waystation.
The carriage's ride transformed. The bone-jarring rattles and lurches vanished, replaced by a smooth, almost liquid glide across the immaculate surface.
"Finally," Sophie breathed, forgetting her sulk for a moment. She pressed her face to the window. "Real roads."
They weren't alone. The Emperor's Way was the empire's central artery, the main supply route connecting the capital to the southern frontier, and it was alive with traffic. Merchant caravans of twenty, thirty wagons rumbled southward, their canvas covers branded with guild marks and house crests.
Lina's armored carriage pulled alongside the Hohenberg vehicle briefly. The guild representative appeared at her window, veil in place, and exchanged a few words with Alphonse through the gap.
"This is where I leave your convoy," she called over the road noise. "The guild has priority access to the express lanes. I'll arrive in the capital several hours ahead of you."
"Safe travels, Lina," Alphonse said.
"I'll send word to the guild's capital office. Your names will be on the guest registry. If you need anything — introductions, supplies, information — present yourself at the Trade Hall near the harbor district."
She paused. Her dark eyes held his for a beat longer than commerce required.
"And don't forget what I said," she added. "If you intend to move in certain circles in the capital, you'll want to acquire a servant. Sooner rather than later. The social cost of arriving without one is... significant."
"Understood."
Lina's carriage accelerated, pulling ahead and merging into a faster-moving lane marked with guild pennants. Within minutes, the reinforced vehicle had disappeared among the press of traffic.
Sophie watched it go.
"Do you think she's right?" Sophie asked. "About the beastling."
"Probably. Social customs in the capital aren't optional."
"It still feels wrong."
"Most important things do."
The hours passed. The landscape shifted from rolling farmland to denser settlement. Villages appeared with increasing frequency along the road's edge, each one larger and more prosperous than the last.
The military presence intensified too. Patrol units in imperial armor rode the shoulders of the road at regular intervals.
By early afternoon, the terrain changed again. The road climbed a gentle rise through a corridor of ancient elms.
Sophie gasped.
Alphonse leaned forward in his seat.
Velorian.
The capital of the empire spread before them like a painting. The city occupied both shores of a vast natural bay, its buildings cascading down from the surrounding hills to the waterline in a tumble of stone, timber, and tile that covered every visible surface.
Hundreds of buildings. Thousands. From this distance, the city was a mosaic of rooftops. Church spires punctured the skyline at irregular intervals.
The harbor dominated the bay's curve. Dozens of ships rode at anchor, their masts creating a dense forest of timber and rigging. The docks stretched along the waterfront in a continuous line of warehouses, cranes, and loading platforms.
But it was the palace that seized the eye.
On the highest of the surrounding hills, rising above the city like a crown, the Imperial Palace of Velorian commanded the horizon.
"We're here," Sophie said.
"Yes," Alphonse said. He studied the city with an expression that was considerably less reverent and considerably more analytical. "Finally."
The sight was impressive. He'd give them that. But his mind was already cataloguing. Defensive walls, harbor depth, approach routes, choke points.
A beautiful target, the operative in him thought. If the war reaches this far north, those crystal towers will be the first things the enemy's siege mages aim for.
The final approach tested their patience more than the entire two-day journey combined.
The Emperor's Way funneled into the city's eastern gate, and the funnel created a bottleneck. Every carriage, wagon, cart, and mounted traveler arriving from the south and east converged on a single entrance point. The queue stretched half a mile.
Imperial soldiers manned the gate in force. A full company, armored and armed, checking documents, inspecting cargo, questioning travelers.
When the Hohenberg carriage finally reached the checkpoint, a sergeant with a face like hammered leather leaned into the window.
"Names. House. Purpose of visit."
"Alphonse and Sophie von Hohenberg," Alphonse said, producing the travel documents Isabelle had prepared. "Barony of Hohenberg. Imperial Academy admission examination."
The sergeant examined the documents. His eyes moved from the papers to Alphonse's face. To Sophie's. Back to the papers.
"Hohenberg," he repeated. "Baron Alexander's house?"
"The same."
A fractional softening of the granite expression. The Baron's military reputation, whatever its private reality, carried weight with soldiers.
"Welcome to Velorian." He stamped the documents and waved them through.
Inside the walls, the city revealed itself in layers. The outer districts were commercial — warehouses, markets, guild offices. The streets were wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side, paved with the same fitted stone as the Emperor's Way.
The Hohenberg soldiers formed a tight escort around the carriage as they navigated the increasingly crowded streets.
There was more people in a single block than lived in the entire town of Hohenberg. The crowd was diverse in ways that a border barony could never match. Imperial citizens in local dress moved alongside merchants from across the sea in their flowing robes. Dwarven traders, stocky and bearded, haggled at gem stalls. And beastlings — Alphonse spotted them immediately — moved through the crowd in the company of their owners, identifiable by their animal features.
A fox-eared woman carrying packages for a noblewoman in silk. A man with the antlers of a young deer, pulling a handcart loaded with barrels. A child with cat ears, perched on the shoulder of a laughing merchant.
Sophie saw them too. Her expression was complicated.
"There are so many," she murmured.
The carriage pressed deeper into the city. The commercial districts gave way to residential quarters, which gave way to the inner ring. The district where wealth and power concentrated.
Here, the buildings grew taller. Stone foundations, timber upper stories, some reaching four or five levels. Balconies draped with flowers. Cobblestoned squares with fountains at their centers.
Ahead of them, something that defied the surrounding architecture entirely.
A building rose from the center of the district like a monument. Ten stories of fitted stone and glass and mana-infused crystal, its facade decorated with gilt trim that caught the afternoon sun and threw it back in blinding flashes. Balconies on every floor, each one larger than the last.
At the street-level entrance, a sign in letters three feet tall, painted in gold leaf on a background of deep burgundy.
THE GOLDEN GAMBIT PLAYHOUSE & HOTEL
"That's... impressive," Alphonse said, leaning forward to take in the full height of the structure through the carriage window.
That's extraordinary for their construction technology. Either they have exceptional engineers, or the building is structurally reinforced with enchantments. Probably both.
Sophie pressed her nose against the glass. "Grandma lives here?"
"Apparently."
The carriage pulled into a covered courtyard at the building's side entrance. The moment the wheels stopped, a swarm of attendants materialized. Young men and women in matching burgundy livery.
Doors opened. Steps were placed. Hands extended to assist the passengers. Other attendants descended on the luggage with enthusiasm, whisking trunks and cases from the supply carriage and bearing them inside before Alphonse could see what was being taken.
"Welcome to the Golden Gambit," a senior attendant said, bowing deeply. "We've been expecting you."
The entrance hall was a statement of intent.
Marble floors, veined with gold. The ceiling was painted with a mural depicting what appeared to be a naval battle, rendered in vivid blues and reds and golds.
The smell was perfume, polished wood, and money.
At the reception desk, a young girl smiled brightly as they approached.
"Young lord Alphonse. Lady Sophie." She dipped in a practiced curtsey. "Madame Marie is expecting you on the tenth floor."
She gestured toward a corridor that led away from the main hall.
At its end, set into the wall like a closet, was a small chamber. An iron cage, perhaps six feet square, with a sliding gate.
"Is that... a lift?" Alphonse asked, peering at the device.
"It's mana-powered," the attending girl explained, guiding them toward it. "Not teleportation, but it can ascend or descend floors according to verbal command. Simply state your destination once inside."
Both siblings entered the cage. The gate slid shut with a metallic click.
"Tenth floor," Alphonse said.
A hum vibrated through the platform beneath their feet. The floor of the cage trembled. With a smoothness that defied the appearance of the device, they began to rise.
Sophie gripped the rail. "Oh!"
The floors passed them in sequence. The second floor: a vast gaming hall, tables arranged in concentric rings. The third: a restaurant, the smell of roasting meat. Fourth, fifth, sixth — residential floors, their corridors carpeted. Seventh, eighth — Alphonse glimpsed what looked like private suites, their doors inlaid with different colored stones.
Ninth. Then—
DING.
Damn, Alphonse thought, staring at the mechanism as the cage settled to a stop. It's a mana-powered elevator. No pulleys, no counterweights. Pure arcane engineering. Someone with serious knowledge designed this.
The gate slid open.
They stepped into a world that bore no resemblance to the floors below.
The tenth floor was a penthouse. An entire floor, converted into a private residence that rivaled the Hohenberg mansion in square footage and surpassed it in every measurable standard of luxury.
"Oh my God," Sophie whispered.
They moved through the foyer into the main salon.
It was enormous. Thirty feet in every direction, with ceilings high enough that the chandeliers hung on chains as long as a man was tall. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the western wall, offering a view of the harbor, the bay, and the distant Imperial Palace.
At one of the smaller tables, positioned near the windows where the light was best, a woman sat.
She held a teacup in one hand. A saucer in the other. Her posture was impeccable. Spine straight, shoulders level, chin tilted.
Alphonse didn't need to ask who she was.
Marie Valois was an older version of Isabelle. The resemblance was unmistakable and slightly unnerving. The same bone structure. The same elegant proportions. The same air of authority that could silence a room by existing in it.
The differences were in the details. Marie's hair was white. Her skin retained a youthful smoothness. The lines around her eyes and mouth were present but minimal.
She was beautiful. Not the fading echo of beauty that most women her age carried.
She must be over fifty, Alphonse calculated, cross-referencing the original Alphonse's memories. Isabelle was thirty-five. Marie had been barely twenty when she'd given birth to her first daughter.
And she looks thirty.
She wore a purple dress cut for the aristocracy. The fabric was rich, layered, falling in folds that emphasized her figure without revealing it.
Her body, beneath the careful architecture of the dress, carried the genetic legacy she'd passed to her daughter. The same broad shoulders. The same dramatic waist-to-hip ratio. The chest, constrained but not concealed, suggested a volume that rivaled Isabelle's.
When she saw the two young people approaching across the salon, she rose from her chair.
"Alphonse. Sophie." Her voice was warm. "My grandchildren. It's been so long."
She opened her arms.
"Grandma!" Sophie crossed the remaining distance at a near-run, throwing herself into Marie's embrace.
Marie laughed. The sound was genuine, unguarded. She wrapped both arms around Sophie and held tight.
"Look at you," Marie said, pulling back to study Sophie's face, cupping both cheeks in her hands. "You've grown so much. The last time I saw you, you barely reached my shoulder."
"It's been three years, Grandma."
"Three years too long." Marie's eyes glistened. She pressed a kiss to Sophie's forehead.
Then she turned to Alphonse.
Her gaze moved over him with the quick, comprehensive assessment.
"Alphonse." She stepped toward him. Her arms opened.
He met her halfway.
"You look different from what I remember," Marie said against his shoulder. "You've changed."
"People do."
She pulled back. Studied his face with an intensity that was distinctly different from the maternal warmth she'd shown Sophie.
"You look amazing, Grandma," Alphonse said. "It's impressive. You look barely older than Mother."
Marie's expression shifted. A pleased smile curved her lips.
"Oh, Alphonse. Thank you so much." She touched her own cheek, a gesture of false modesty performed with perfect sincerity. "But nothing that a little mana here and there can't help with. There are certain advantages to living in a city with the empire's best [Healers] and [Alchemists]."
"But come," Marie said, linking her arm through Sophie's and gesturing for Alphonse to follow. "Let me show you your new home."
The tour took the better part of two hours.
The penthouse occupied the entire tenth floor, and the tenth floor was larger than the Hohenberg mansion's second story. Marie led them through room after room.
The main salon they'd already seen. Beyond it, a dining room with a table that seated twenty. A private library stocked with volumes that made Alphonse's fingers itch. A music room with a full-size harpsichord and a collection of stringed instruments mounted on the walls.
The master suite occupied the penthouse's southern wing. They didn't enter, but the doors were wide enough that Alphonse caught a glimpse of draped canopy bed, mirrored dressing table, and a bathing chamber that appeared to have its own waterfall.
The guest wing occupied the northern side. Two suites, each with a bedroom, a sitting room, a private bathing chamber, and a small study.
"This one is yours, Sophie," Marie said, opening the door to the larger of the two suites. "And this one—" she moved to the next door "—is yours, Alphonse."
Sophie's suite overlooked the harbor. Alphonse's faced east, toward the old city and, in the distance, the Academy's campus.
"The servants will bring your meals to the dining room, but there's a kitchen in the guest wing if you prefer to eat privately," Marie continued. "The building's staff is at your disposal. You need only ask."
"Thank you so much, Grandma," Sophie said. "This is incredible."
"You're welcome, Sophie. I imagine you'll miss home, but I hope you have a good experience both in Velorian and here." Marie squeezed her granddaughter's hand. "Your mother wrote extensively about your magic. The Academy is lucky to have you."
Sophie beamed.
"You must be exhausted from the journey," Marie said. "Unpack. Rest. Tomorrow is the examination. You'll need your strength."
Sophie and Alphonse bid Marie goodnight and retreated to the guest wing.
The moment Marie disappeared around the corner toward the main hall, Alphonse changed direction.
Instead of entering his own suite, he crossed the corridor and pushed open Sophie's door without knocking.
The room was spacious, warmly lit, with heavy curtains drawn against the evening light. Sophie was already crouched beside one of her trunks, pulling folded dresses from the interior and sorting them into piles on the floor.
She looked up. "Al! You could knock—"
He crossed the room in three strides. Took her hand. Pulled her to her feet.
Before she could form a sentence, he pressed her against the wall. His body pinned hers. His mouth found hers.
Sophie's hands came up to his chest.
He broke the kiss. Held her face between both hands.
"Nice room," he said, his eyes traveling over her shoulder to the windows, the curtains, the heavy door that could be locked. "Lots of privacy."
"Al—"
"We'll be busy tomorrow and through the examination," he said. His right hand left her face. Traveled down. Over her collarbone. Along her ribs. Past her waist.
His fingers gathered the fabric of her dress, bunching it upward until his hand found the bare skin of her thigh.
"However." His fingers climbed higher. Found the damp fabric of her panties. Pushed past it.
His fingertip settled on her clit.
"Hmmm—" Sophie's breath caught. Her head fell back against the wall.
"I don't want you to forget who owns you."
Sophie's hips rocked against his hand. Her thighs parted.
"Never," she breathed. "I'd never forget."
His middle finger dipped lower. Found her entrance. Slid inside.
"Hmmm—" The moan was soft. Her inner walls clenched around him immediately, wet and hot and desperate.
He curled the finger. Pressed against the front wall. Sophie's knees buckled. He held her up with his body weight alone, pinning her against the wall while his finger worked inside her.
Thirty seconds. A minute. Her breathing became ragged. Her hands clawed at his shirt. The wetness spreading down his wrist.
He could feel her approaching the edge. Through the brand, her arousal was a climbing wave, building toward a crest that—
He withdrew his finger.
Sophie's eyes flew open. "Wh— Al—"
"But that's all for today."
He stepped back. Wiped his finger on her dress. Smiled.
"Al! You can't just—"
"Goodnight sister."
He was through the door before the pillow she threw could reach him.
His own suite was quiet. Large enough that the acoustics swallowed the muffled thud of Sophie's frustrated kick against her wall.
Alphonse closed the door. Locked it.
He moved to the largest trunk. Opened the false bottom he'd installed before departure.
Inside, wrapped in dark cloth, a set of garments he'd assembled specifically for tonight. Black trousers. A black fitted shirt, long-sleeved, with a high collar. Black gloves, thin leather, flexible enough for detailed work. Black soft-soled boots that made no sound on stone.
And a mask.
He'd carved it himself in the mansion's workshop during the final days before departure. Black lacquered wood, shaped to cover the upper half of his face. The eye holes were cut wide for peripheral vision. The bridge of the nose was reinforced. Across the forehead, purely for aesthetic purposes, he'd carved the suggestion of pointed ears.
A cat mask.
He dressed quickly. The black garments fit close to his body, eliminating loose fabric that could catch or rustle. The gloves molded to his hands like a second skin. The mask settled over his face and was secured with a thin leather strap behind his head.
He crossed to the window. The sun had sunk below the harbor. The city below was transitioning from daytime commerce to nighttime entertainment. Lamps flicked on along the streets.
This should make things easier, Alphonse thought.
[Shadow Cloak]
Three hundred mana drained from his reservoir. The spell activated without fanfare. No visual effect from his perspective. But when he glanced at the full-length mirror mounted beside the wardrobe, the mirror showed nothing.
He was gone. A shadow among shadows.
He moved to the door. Opened it a crack. The corridor was empty, lit by a single mana lamp at the far end. The warm glow created long shadows along the walls.
He slipped through the gap and moved toward the main hall.
His footsteps were silent. The spell suppressed most sounds his body produced.
The main hall was ahead. He could hear voices.
He pressed himself against the wall beside the archway and listened.
"—my grandchildren. I want guards with them at all times." Marie's voice. "If anything happens, you must report it to me immediately."
Two figures stood before her. A man and a woman, both middle-aged, both standing at rigid attention.
"Even though they are from Hohenberg," Marie continued, her tone dropping to something more intense, "they carry the blood of House Valois. An insult to them will be seen as an insult to the entire house."
"Yes, ma'am," both attendants responded in unison.
Marie isn't just Isabelle's mother. She's the matriarch of a capital house. The Golden Gambit isn't just a casino, it's the Valois family's seat of power.
"One more important thing," Marie said, lowering her voice further. Alphonse pressed closer to the archway. "They must not access the auction area."
Alphonse's ears sharpened.
"They are still children, only just entering the Academy," Marie continued. "They must not mingle with that kind of crowd. Under no circumstances."
"Yes, ma'am," the attendants confirmed.
One of them stepped forward.
"Speaking of the auction," he said. "Tonight, we have ninety-three attendees. They are all already in the hall. The catalog has been distributed."
"Excellent." Marie rose from her chair. She smoothed the front of her purple dress. "Let's begin, then."
She walked toward the elevator. The attendants fell into step behind her.
Alphonse watched from the shadows as the three of them entered the mana-powered cage. The gate slid shut. Marie's voice, barely audible: "Basement level three."
The display beside the cage lit up. Numbers appeared as the platform descended.
3... 2... 1... -1... -2... -3.