Semua Bab His Straight Pet: Bab 101 - Bab 106

Raymond’s POVThe chamber where Xalor lay felt heavy, full of smoke, whispers, and the soft groans of a body broken by battle. I had hardly been able to move. My stomach had twisted itself into knots as I watched the physicians work over him, their pale hands moving quickly, their sharp instruments glinting like cruel stars in the candlelight.I had wanted to say something—anything—but my throat refused to obey. My mouth was dry. I could only watch.Then Jude had entered.Like a shadow crashing through the room, his presence swallowed the air. His eyes had flared crimson as he assessed Xalor’s ruined body. The physicians bowed back from him immediately, like reeds bending in a storm. Jude’s silence had been far louder than any words.He stood there for what felt like an eternity, his jaw tight, his shoulders rigid. I had dared to think maybe—just maybe—he would speak calmly.But then he turned, his cloak cutting through

Jude’s POVThe horn shook the walls.A deep, ancient sound that rolled through the palace like thunder, heavy and slow, as if the bones of the city itself groaned awake. It meant one thing: the day had come. No more delaying. No more hiding behind excuses or politics. Today the Lords would battle.I sat in my chamber, bare from the waist up, the air sharp with the biting scent of herbs and resin. Two servants hovered around me, their hands steady as they worked. They dipped strips of cloth into bowls of thick embalming oils, a mixture so dark it glistened almost black, and pressed them against my arms, my chest, my throat. The oils sank into my skin, cold first, then burning, until it felt as though every vein was being sealed, every pore locked tight.It was tradition. Every Lord who entered the battle was supposed to be embalmed. The ritual blocked sorcery from latching onto the body, sealed away weak points, and made it impossible for anyone to twist a Lord’s flesh with curses or b

Jude’s POVSilence followed. Heavy. Expectant.I stood in the circle of the arena with the other Lords, resin stiff and heavy across my skin. The embalming oils had dried into hard plates, sealing my flesh like armor and binding my power inside me. Every step I took felt weighted, every breath shallow against the tightness. The scent of crushed herbs still clung to me — bitter smoke and stale flowers, the ritual smell of restraint.The stands loomed above, tier after tier of dark-robed figures and hungry eyes. Ten thousand voices muttered, rose, then hushed again as a sound rippled across the space.Not a horn this time.Bells.Clear, silver bells, chiming soft and sharp, notes so pure they cut through the tension and dropped it into silence.The Priestess had come.All heads turned. Even the crowd leaned forward, thousands of bodies shifting as one. She moved slowly, purposefully, as if the world itself must keep time with her steps. Bare feet pressed into the hot sand, white robes t