Tamza backflipped and landed in front of the soldier with the missing front teeth. He looked up at her in awe, his mouth hanging open. The men around the table were all mesmerised, those who had watched her dance many times before and those who had arrived today. Edgar grinned broadly.

Tamza had a new trick for them tonight. She wore her usual cropped top, but had ripped her trousers to a pair of tiny shorts. Her buttocks were on show, which made her feel exposed, but was perfect for the purpose she had in mind. She had her usual jewellery on, apart from her ankle cuffs.

The gap-toothed soldier held his cup in his hand by his chest, although he hadn’t taken a sip in a while, too rapt by Tamza’s performance. She leant forward, giving the soldier a good look at her cleavage and plucked his drink from his hand.

She cupped her palm above his face and he looked up, mouth still open. She poured his wine from her elbow down to her hand so it dripped off her fingers, splashing his face and dribbling into his mouth. He lapped it up like a hungry kitten as she knew he would. The cup emptied and she threw it at the wall, running her wet hand down his face and shoving her fingers in his mouth before pushing his head away. He licked his lips hungrily.

Tamza turned and aimed her sights on the King. She leapt and tumbled along the low tables to the gasps of the men and landed in front of Edgar. She graced him with a smile and a wink. He, too, held his cup against his chest. She knew he was drinking the wine the new soldiers had brought with them, and she also knew that his food tasters would’ve sipped it before it was given to the King, as they did with all his food and drink. He was relentlessly cautious.

She stood slowly on one leg, her other going to his cup. Her toes clasped it and brought it back to her hand. The King relinquished his cup without a second thought. Her foot went back to his chest, pressing there a moment before kicking up his chin. She put her big toe in his mouth and poured his wine down her leg. He sucked it off her toe, drinking greedily, his eyes locked on hers.

When the cup was almost empty, Tamza brought her leg down and knelt on the low table, her knees spread wide. She beckoned Edgar towards her and poured a few drops of the wine in her belly button. He leant forward, grabbed her hips and pulled her nearer, then brought his head down, a hungry smile on his face, to suck at the wine around her stomach. She dipped her fingers in the wine and smeared it up her thighs, Edgar’s tongue followed. She dribbled the last between her breasts, and he obliged by licking it all off.

She laughed and whispered in his ear. “Let us go to bed, my King.”

Edgar grunted and stood up from the cushions. He picked her up from the table and she wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to his chest and kissing his forehead. He stared up at her in wonder as he walked to door.

“Carry on, men, I’ve got some fucking to do.”

Laughter and claps from around the table. Orpey shouted, “Bring the fresh whores!”

The gap-toothed soldier stood and followed Edgar and Tamza out of the dining hall and to the King’s chamber. As usual, Edgar removed his sword and daggers and left them outside the room. Gappy took up his position in the hallway as Edgar shut the door.

For hours, Tamza entertained the King. He was insatiable. Eventually he fell asleep and Tamza watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. Tamza could picture Maryam watching the blue doorway carefully, patiently waiting for it to grow, the hope still in her heart. This has to work.

Rise and fall, rise and fall. Tamza peeled herself off the bed and scrubbed herself silently, washing away all the poison. Before the dance, she had eaten the leaf, mixed the powder contents of Maryam’s packet with water to form a thin paste and then covered her body in the stuff, standing still until it dried. It felt tight on her skin and had left a greyish sheen, but the men hadn’t noticed. They were too busy staring at her exposed buttocks.

Edgar twitched in his sleep. Tamza stared intently at his chest.

Rise and fall.

Whilst she dressed, she heard a clang from outside. She crept to the door, putting her ear to it, but could hear nothing. Edgar coughed. She turned to stare at him. His face in shadows from the candle that flickered at the end of the bed. She took a step towards him.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He coughed violently, his eyes sprung open and he clutched at his throat, choking. His pale skin went the colour of the raw meat she used to feed to her bears. His eyes rolled in their sockets, but he fought it, he fought it hard and it took all his will to stare at Tamza. With extreme effort, he shifted his feet off the bed and to the floor, his eyes on Tamza, one hand around his throat.

A foamy blood dribbled from Edgar’s nose as he pushed himself off the bed and took a step towards her. His entire body trembled. He jerked a hand out, reaching to her. She wanted to move out of his grasp but her body was rooted to the spot.

With a great lurch, he took a step towards her, his breath ragged, foam bubbling from his lips, dropping in clumps in his beard. He forced out words, but they were incomprehensible gurgles.

His eyeballs bulged as he fell on his face. A heavy thud on the wooden floorboards. His body twitched and went still.

Tamza’s heartbeat banged in her eardrums. She nudged him with a foot, his face was purple and bloated, his throat swollen. His tongue lolled from his mouth, a pulpy, wet mass. Satisfied, she spat on him.

“That is for Papa, for Ursah, for Yaseena, for Lil Araf and Baby, and for all the Vaasarians you murdered, you monster.”

She pulled on her cloak and headscarf, listened at the door. Slowly she opened the handle, and peered out. Gappy was dead on the floor. Stepping over the soldier, she looked down the corridor. She grabbed Edgar’s daggers.

With one in each hand she crept down the hallway. It was quiet. This entire floor was empty apart from the King. He had one soldier posted at the door, and the rest at the bottom of the stairs.

The light of candles glowed from the circular stairwell, and the noise of laughter – male and female – rose in great waves. Grunting, women’s yelps, as well as singing. There was a party going on. Tamza tiptoed down each step, until she had the last step in front of her.

The stairs ended in a room which led off to the downstairs hallway. The bulk of this room was to her right, as well as the entry to the hall. She knew there was a large cupboard against the wall, immediately to her right. To her left was a door to the palace gardens. The way out. In front of her was a pile of floor cushions and low tables. The voices and laughter was emanating from her right. If she could stay close to the wall, the cupboard would shield her from view. She cautiously came to the bottom step, held her breath and peeked.

The soldiers and the whores were on floor cushions to her right. The way was clear, for the moment. Tamza gritted her teeth and placed a foot on the floor of the room, shuffled along the wall to the left.

In front of her a man grunted. A soldier, his leggings around his ankles, was taking his pleasure of a Fertilian whore in the corner, against the wall. His back was to Tamza, but the woman was facing her and opened her eyes just as Tamza took a step.

They stared at each other. Tamza stood as still as a statue. The man, oblivious, continued to thrust. Tamza put all her thoughts into her eyes. “Please,” she tried to communicate with the woman, “Please don’t scream. Please forget you saw me. Please.”

The whore stared at her for a long time and Tamza held her breath. The woman blinked and looked down, closing her eyes, grunting along with the soldier she entertained. Tamza took this as a signal, and ran. The door was open ajar and she squeezed through, scared to pull it and make the hinges creak.

The cool air embraced her and she crouched low, catching her breath. Drawing her black headscarf tighter, she faded into the shadows. A group of five soldiers stood at the entrance to the palace gardens. One was pissing against the low wall. They looked bored, clearly frustrated not to be enjoying the women. There was no threat in Vaasar, apart from the prisoners locked away, there were only Ferts in the town.

Tamza trod carefully on the pebbly path, the pebbles brought up from the beach, and away from the entrance and the soldiers, and disappeared deeper into the palace gardens, across the Killing Fields and towards the bear enclosure.