Chapter 885 - 884- Your Mother was Tasty

Chapter 885: Chapter 884- Your Mother was Tasty

The academy corridors had always bent around Elena before.

Students used to part for her the way water parts for a ship’s prow. Professors used to incline their heads a fraction of a degree past courtesy. Even the portraits on the walls seemed to watch her with a certain deference, and she had walked these halls for two years like a woman crossing her own estate.

Today she walked alone.

Her heels struck the marble too loudly. Her fingers raked through her dark hair, ruffling it out of its careful arrangement, snagging on pins she no longer cared about. She stopped at the landing, bit down on her thumbnail, and glared at nothing.

’What the hell is happening here.’

She had come to this academy with a plan carved in stone. Enroll. Collect the imperial prince’s favor. Become the woman beside Leo when he took the throne, or at minimum the woman his faction could not function without. It was supposed to be simple. It had worked in every salon and every court function since she was fourteen.

Then Ktorian had arrived.

Now Leo’s eyes narrowed whenever her name came up. The prince who once lingered over her letters now left them sealed. His irritation had a new flavor whenever Viktor stood in the room, the flavor of a man comparing two pieces on a board and finding hers dull.

Her letters home had stopped answering three weeks ago.

She had written to her father first. Then to her mother. Then to the steward, the cousin, the family’s man in the capital. Nothing came back. Not a refusal. Not a rebuke. Silence, total and unnatural, as if every road between this academy and her family’s estate had been paved over with something that swallowed couriers whole.

’He is dead. That is the only explanation. Father would never ignore me. Mother would never ignore me. And that bastard visited our estate before the term began.’

She bit her nail until it hurt.

She could not even kill him. She had turned the thought over a hundred times, poison, hired blades, an arranged accident on the training grounds, and every path circled back to the same wall. The man had survived a war. The man had healed a dying child in a capital square with a hundred witnesses. Nobody would take the contract, and anybody who tried would talk, and Leo would learn it came from her.

So she walked, and fumed, and turned toward the infirmary wing without any real reason to, other than that her feet needed somewhere to go.

Then she halted.

There was a window. Half curtained, half lit by the late afternoon. Through the gap she saw a bed, a figure sitting up, and a pair of small dark horns on a head of dark hair.

"That half-breed bitch," Elena breathed.

Sophia. The horned girl who had attached herself to Ktorian like a shadow. She was perched on the edge of the infirmary bed, a basin of water beside her, a cloth in her hands, and she was entirely naked, her long legs folded beneath her, utterly unbothered by her own state as if clothing were a custom for other people.

And on the bed, being tended to, was a second woman.

Elena leaned closer to the glass, her breath fogging a small circle on the pane.

"Wait. What is that."

Sophia wet the cloth in the basin, wrung it, and drew it slowly across the other woman’s body. The light caught the marks as it passed. Teeth marks circled the swell of one breast, crescents pressed deep into the soft flesh. The neck below was mottled with hickies, dark blooms climbing from collarbone to jaw.

And between the spread legs, lifted and wiped with clinical gentleness by the horned girl, a pussy that gaped. Puffy, flushed, used, the lips still parted around nothing, a slow thread of white leaking from the reddened entrance onto the sheet.

Elena’s stomach turned over. Not with disgust. With recognition.

"I mean, Yuki," she said aloud, dumbly, to the window. "How are you all right?"

On the bed, Yuki stirred. Her eyes opened to slits, and she answered in a croak that Elena could just barely catch through the glass.

"My waist hurts. It was too rough."

Sophia said nothing to that. She only lifted Yuki’s ankle, slid a pair of plain white panties up the smooth calves, over the bruised thighs, and settled the fabric into place with a care that looked almost devotional. A shift followed. Then a robe. She dressed the broken girl like a doll, then eased her upright and began rubbing slow circles into her back.

Elena stood frozen at the window, her mind trying and failing to build a sentence out of what she was seeing. The academy’s rising swordswoman. Her brother’s girlfriend. Sitting in an infirmary with a body that looked like a battlefield, being dressed and soothed by Ktorian’s half-breed pet.

Then the air in the room tore.

A portal opened beside the bed without so much as a knock, and Viktor stepped through it, the frame of reality closing behind him like a healed wound.

"You arrived," Sophia said. Not a question. Not a greeting. A report.

The bottom dropped out of Elena’s day.

She ducked sideways, pressing her spine to the wall beside the window, her hand over her own mouth. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

"Damn it. That bastard. He can just appear anywhere in the academy. Anywhere. There is no room in this school that is not his."

She wanted to barge in. She wanted to scream. She wanted to demand answers about her father, her mother, the sealed roads, all of it. But her legs did not move. Because through the gap in the curtain she could see him, and he was already unbuckling his belt.

He did not ask. He did not check the door. He did not acknowledge the naked horned girl or the half-dressed wreck on the bed with anything resembling ceremony. He simply pulled his trousers open and drew out his cock, limp, heavy, long even soft, and let it hang in the infirmary light like he owned the room along with everything else he touched.

His hand closed in Yuki’s hair.

"Suck it."

Elena should have looked away. She watched instead.

Yuki leaned forward without a word of protest and took him into her mouth. Her lips sealed around the crown. Her cheeks hollowed. Her head began to move, up and down, up and down, and the soft limp weight of him stirred and thickened against her tongue until her jaw had to stretch wide to keep it.

He guided her by the hair, unhurried, watching her work. "She seems to recover well. Do you like it?"

Yuki’s hand came up and gripped the cheek of his ass, steadying herself. She pulled off just far enough to gasp for air, strings of spit bridging her lips to the head, then dove back down with a wet choke.

"Yes," she managed, muffled and shameful. "I am."

’She is answering him. She is thanking him. What did he do to her?’

Sophia, still naked, still calm, folded the damp cloth and set it in the basin. "Yes. I have told her what you want, Viktor."

She paused. Her dark eyes slid, with terrible laziness, toward the window.

"But it seems we have a guest."

Elena’s blood went cold.

He did not even look up. He smirked, that lazy crooked curl of the mouth she had once been engaged to, and spoke to the window. To her. Through the glass as if it were nothing at all.

"Your mother was delicious."