At the first light of dawn, I reclaimed control of the body, though I had been conscious before that. Princess, by contrast, likely remained in slumber, for our breathing was deep, and she showed no response. The room was steeped in silence. Tirrha lay atop me, radiating warmth. The temptation to remain still was overwhelming, as the world beyond our blankets seemed frigid and bleak.

  The pressing need to relieve ourselves was unmistakable, but Princess’s bladder was far sturdier than mine, and the pleasure of the shared warmth far outweighed the discomfort building in our abdomen. A faint headache lingered, a reminder of the previous night's indulgences and the use of Artalar; the soreness in our groin, a result of being kneed, had not eased much either. Despite it all, I found myself curiously content.

  During the act itself, I had made peace with the events of the night. After all, this was not my body; I had not betrayed my affection for Fermina. I was merely a vessel, an instrument of Princess’s will, bound to serve. When the time came, my soul would be expelled as the intruder it was, fading into nothingness. Until then, whatever reprieve I was granted until my research discovered how to achieve my destruction was to be savored when possible.

  How unthinkable! Not even in my most outlandish fantasies had I envisioned that I, of all people, would come to know the intimate embrace of a woman's body. Even now, our legs were entwined, my right arm draped across her neck and back; my left hand was free, idly tracing Tirrha’s curves with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

  The soft light of dawn filtered into the room, revealing a cascade of a golden mane spread over our shoulder, while a delicate white arm curled possessively around our chest. The scent of our shared intimacy lingered beneath the covers, filling me with an unexpected sense of pride and fulfillment.

  Yet, an unwelcome thought intruded, refusing to be dismissed. Despite my desire to linger in this warmth a while longer, I could not ignore the practicalities. Leaving Tirrha’s room disheveled, with hair in disarray and the scent of our passions clinging to us, was hardly advisable when servants might see. Strange rumors could easily arise, and as much as it pained me, I had to leave before the household awoke. It was my duty to protect Princess’s reputation, even if it meant sacrificing my own comfort.

  With the utmost care, I extricated myself from the bed, imagining myself as a thief in the night. The gown that Lady Telenhart had purchased for Princess lay discarded on the floor, precisely where it had been tossed. After confirming it was indeed ours, I slipped it on and made my way back to our chambers, pausing only briefly to visit the lavatories.

  The hallways were unbearably cold, and all I longed for was the embrace of blankets once more. However, a reflection in a window arrested my steps.

  “Hey, you perverted piece of shit. Can you hear me now?” Princess’s voice rang out harshly within my mind, her fury unmistakable.

  “I can hear you, and I do not appreciate such language. However, I understand you seem to be upset. Would you care to elaborate?”

  “Upset! Why would I be upset with you, you deviant, twisted, corrupt fucker who keeps stealing my body?” she retorted, her tone sharp as a blade. Her words echoed in another window as we continued our journey to the room; I was certain Princess also would prefer me to take refuge from the biting cold.

  “Did you… wish for me to remain with Tirrha?” I ventured, attempting to decipher the source of her agitation. Perhaps she had desired to linger in her lover’s glow, and I had denied her that.

  “Oh, Tirrha now, is it? What happened to ‘Lady Lunatora’?” she wondered. It was a fair point. After sharing such an intimate moment, it seemed only natural to refer to her by her given name. “No, I didn’t fucking want to stay with Tirrha. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look her in the eye again! Thanks to you!”

  “I have the distinct impression that you are blaming me for a perceived slight, but I haven’t the faintest idea of what or why,” I responded with a calm tone, despite her unprovoked attack. Upon reaching our chambers, I retrieved a hand mirror from the bedside—one which replaced the one that had been forced to abandon—and settled beneath the covers, giving Princess a chance to explain herself.

  “Blaming you? It’s your fault! It’s your entire fault!” she accused, her words lacking clarity.

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  “What exactly is my fault? Speak clearly, woman!” I whispered, though the frustration was evident. I had to speak aloud, unlike her, and I let her see how exasperated I was by her vague accusations.

  “Everything!” she cried, and I could feel the tears welling up. It was an intense emotion. “You ruined everything, you ass!”

  Princess’s sincerity was undeniable, though it did little to elucidate her reasoning. I reflected on my actions since the previous day, but despite my efforts, I could not fathom what had incited her wrath. Was it having her escape in the nude from Chelyo’s den? Was it leaving our hard-earned coin behind? Perhaps it was not making an effort to steal the talisman from him—a decision I mildly regretted in hindsight.

  “My head is killing me… because of your stupid Artan Legacy,” she finally elaborated. I sniffled for us both. Our tears continued to flow, and I could not stop them.

  “The copious amounts of wine we consumed last night are also partly to blame,” I reminded her, attempting to bring reason to the situation.

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she internally shouted. “How can you just lie there after what you did?”

  “I have already posited that my pain tolerance far exceeds yours. That being the case, I understand you may be enduring far more suffering than I can perceive. If the pain is unbearable enough to provoke such vitriol, I shall gladly dress, wake a servant, and instruct them to prepare a remedy for us. Would that ease your distress, Princess?”

  “I don’t care about the stupid headache!” she made even less and less sense. “Are you really that dense? Look at what you made me do! Y-you made me… fuck Tirrha! H-how dare you even speak to me after that!?”

  I wiped away our tears with a sleeve and stared at the hand mirror. “Were you so inebriated that you forgot you were in complete control of your body?” I firmly countered. “You were the one who left the bed, walked to her room, allowed her to kiss you, undress you, and reciprocated. It was not I who caressed Lady Lunatora, yowling like a cat in heat when-”

  “Yes, it was! Yes, it was!” she interrupted, and I let her speak over me. “I would have never done that, Dubart! Never! It’s you and your stupid… manly desire. You were the one getting… aroused that she was touching and kissing me, and I was the one who had to pay for it! Don’t you try to deny it, you sniveling scum; I remember all too well what it is to have you get excited every time you saw Riatna naked, when Fermina got close, or when I painted that snitching maid! It was you! I would never have behaved like that if you were not inside, corrupting me with your disgusting urges!”

  Her words struck me, and my initial instinct was to dismiss them as folly. She had been drunk, impulsively sought out Tirrha, and then been persuaded to deepen their bond. Surely none of that could be attributed to my influence. Yet, as the tears—tears that were not my own—trickled down our cheek, I was forced to acknowledge that our emotions were not entirely our own.

  Though I no longer harbored resentment for Tirrha, it was not long ago that I had loathed her. Had I been in control, I could have easily rejected her advances. After all, I was not a slave to my desires. How could I, after living such a life? Nothing more than a never-ending parade of disappointments and impotence. But could I have unwittingly contributed to the events of the night? It was undeniable that Princess had grown uncomfortable around her sisters due to my presence complicating their interactions. I could still vividly recall the stirring of desire when Raiya posed nude for us, even though Princess was supposedly in control.

  Her accusations could not be wholly denied—it would be dishonest. Moreover, Princess was distressed, and it seemed that my influence, though a factor, was not the sole cause of last night’s events. Princess’s emotions and choices had played a significant role. I could have admonished her, but I hesitated. Was it so terrible to shoulder the blame for this incident? Perhaps Princess found it too difficult to accept that a night of binge drinking and emotional vulnerability could have resulted in delivering her to the arms of another woman.

  “Princess, calm yourself. It is… regrettable that your autonomy was compromised by my influence, but I cannot apologize for what is outside my control. I fear such urges cannot be helped, and the only solution is to be more cautious in the future. Nonetheless, I am sorry that you have to endure all of this.”

  “I know you’re not doing it on purpose, but…! Y-yeah. There is no point in blaming you now, is there?” she softened almost immediately. “Dubart, this is really hard for me, do you understand? I… I don’t know what will happen now between Tirrha and me, even after you’re gone. This could really mess things up. I am not sure we could ever return to the way things were. It is almost preferable never to have reconciled with her…”

  Her recovery from the barrage of insults was suspiciously swift. The simpleton… she cared far less about the event than about absolving herself of any fault. The moment I hinted that I might bear the blame, she offered a truce and began speaking to me like a person. Fine, then. I would carry this burden for her, whatever kept the Princess happy.

  “All we can do is give it time,” I emptily advised, sensing she was prepared to move on. “How about that headache? Would you like me to brew some of my famous Almeda tea? There must be some leaves in Bernan.”

  “Please. The hangover is killing me.”

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