Chapter 29: The Performance

Lord Vane arrived within twenty minutes. He was dressed in a sharp suit, his hair slicked back, a smirk playing on his lips. He knew exactly what he was walking into. He knew exactly who was waiting in the shadows.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing low. "You summoned me?"

"I did," I said, standing up. I walked toward him, leaving Kaelen kneeling on the floor behind me. "I’m feeling... adventurous tonight."

Vane’s eyes flicked to Kaelen, then back to me. A knowing glint appeared in his gaze. "Adventurous is my middle name."

He reached out, taking my hand. I let him. I let him pull me closer, let him brush his lips against my knuckles. I could feel Kaelen’s presence behind me, a silent, suffering weight.

"Shall we dance?" Vane asked.

"We shall," I replied.

We moved to the center of the room, swaying to the music playing softly from the speakers. Vane’s hands were bold, roaming over my waist, my back. He whispered compliments in my ear, dirty, suggestive things that would have made the old Elara blush.

But I didn’t blush. I smiled. I played the part. I laughed at his jokes, leaned into his touch, and let him believe he had a chance.

All the while, I kept my eyes on Kaelen.

He hadn’t moved. He was still on his knees, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him. But I could see the tension in his shoulders. The white-knuckled grip of his hands. The way his breath hitched every time Vane touched me.

It was exquisite torture. And I was the master of ceremonies.

After a few minutes, I pulled away from Vane, feigning breathlessness. "Thirsty," I said.

Vane smiled. "Let me get you a drink."

"No," I said, pointing to Kaelen. "Him."

Vane raised an eyebrow, amused. "The servant?"

"He’s not a servant," I said coldly. "He’s my pet. And he knows his place. Don’t you, Kaelen?"

Kaelen lifted his head. His eyes were dark, swirling with pain and rage. But he nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

"Then fetch us wine. And don’t spill a drop."

Kaelen stood up, his movements stiff. He walked to the sideboard, poured two glasses, and brought them to us. His hands shook violently this time. As he handed me the glass, our fingers brushed.

I saw the look in his eyes. It wasn’t just pain. It was pleading. Stop, his eyes said. Please stop.

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I took the glass, smiling at Vane. "Thank you, Kaelen. You may return to your corner."

Kaelen bowed, turning back to his spot on the floor. He knelt again, resuming his position of submission.

Vane chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re cruel, Elara. I like that."

"Cruelty is just honesty," I replied, taking a sip of wine. "And I’m done with lies."

We continued to dance, to talk, to flirt. But the air in the room had changed. It was no longer just about power. It was about survival. Kaelen was surviving me. And I was surviving myself.

As the night wore on, Vane grew bolder. He kissed my neck, his hands sliding lower. I didn’t push him away. I let him. I watched Kaelen watch us.

And when Vane finally left, promising to return tomorrow, I was alone again with my broken toy.

Kaelen was still on his knees. Tears streamed down his face, silent and endless.

"Get up," I said, my voice hollow.

He didn’t move.

"Get up!" I screamed.

He slowly rose, his legs trembling. He looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," I said. "And because you let me."

I turned and walked to the bedroom, locking the door behind me. I slid down against the wood, burying my face in my knees.

I had won.

But I had never felt more defeated.