“The world in which we live is a very dangerous one, Stormie,” Massa said, his voice filled with caution as we navigated through the bustling crowd.
We were on our way to the palace, with Ruarc, Sia, and Cocci having gone ahead of us. I soon realized that the people surrounding us were Icelanders, which explained the curious and sometimes perplexed looks I received.
“It can’t be that bad,” I joked half-heartedly, trying to lighten the mood.
However, Massa’s sudden halt indicated that he wasn’t amused. “This is not a joke, Crinka,” he responded sternly. “Any slip-ups, and you’ll be dead. Do you now understand why you always have to be on your guard?”
I simply nodded in response, realizing the gravity of the situation. Massa resumed walking, leading the way. Eventually, we reached a set of iced gates, guarded by armed men.
One of the burly guards approached us. “Welcome home, my prince,” the guard greeted Massa respectfully. So, this was the palace-a magnificent structure made entirely of ice, its beauty captivating me.
“Open the gates,” Massa commanded the guards, his voice carrying authority. “She can’t come in, sir,” one of the guards objected. “Are you testing my orders? I said open the gates!” Massa’s voice held a hint of impatience.
The guard signaled his men, and the gates were reluctantly drawn open. Massa seized my arm, pulling me inside.
The atmosphere was eerily quiet within the frozen palace.
Its towering walls enclosed a vast courtyard, while another pair of doors beckoned us forward. Massa glared at the guards stationed before the iced doors.
“Open the door,” he commanded firmly. “She can’t come in, my prince,” one of the guards responded.
“Are you disobeying me?” Massa’s voice carried a dangerous edge.
“Absolutely not, my prince,” the guard hastily replied.
“Then open the damn doors,” Massa asserted, his tone leaving no room for further argument.
Reluctantly, the guards opened the doors, and Massa gently guided me through. I barely had time to admire the grandeur of the hall, as Massa swiftly led the way. The floors were made of shimmering ice, lending an ethereal quality to the surroundings.
“The North wing belongs to the king and queen. The East Wing is occupied by my brothers. The West Wing is solely mine. The servants reside in the boys’ quarters, and there is a brothel for the courtesans. The harem is where the royal concubines reside,” Massa explained, providing a brief overview of the palace layout.
“Will I be staying there?” I inquired hesitantly, my mind conjuring images of an unfamiliar and potentially uncomfortable environment.
“No, you will be staying with me,” Massa stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
He guided me towards a flight of ice-carved stairs, and I followed him obediently. After ascending for a while, we arrived at an empty wing. “This is the West Wing,” Massa announced, gesturing towards various rooms. “That’s my training room, over there is the kitchen, to the left is my study, and here is my bedroom.”
He opened the door to his spacious bedroom, revealing a king-sized bed, a wardrobe, and a minibar. Without hesitation, he began undressing, much to my surprise.
“What are you doing?” I blurted out, taken aback by his actions. “Undressing. You should do the same,” he responded matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You should do the same.”
His pants dropped to the floor. The sight of his muscled legs made me hot. He lay thick within his boxers, and I wonder if I’m the reason behind his erection.
“What? I’m not letting you see me naked!”
He rolled his eyes and flung open the wardrobe. He threw out a set of leather pants, lingerie, and a fur coat.
“Undress now Crinka.”
“Turn around,” I ordered.
He rolled his eyes, putting on black boots. He smoothed out his hair, dropping the fur coat across his shoulders.
He walked to me. I backed away. “We could either do this your way or my way. Undress now or I’ll do it for you.”
I don’t move. He grabbed a hold of me, ripping the robe off me. I watched in horror as it fell to the ground. The air bit my skin, and I hugged myself.
“Dress up. Your nudity is distracting.”
I hurriedly put on the underwear, wearing the coat he threw at me. I have never felt so slutty.
“You will get used to it,” Massa reassured me, his voice filled with a mix of empathy and detachment as he noticed my discomfort. I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the situation. “How am I supposed to get used to this? It’s going to be difficult because I’ve never done this before,” I confessed, my voice filled with genuine concern.
“Not my problem, Stormie,” he responded curtly, his tone reminding me of the strict boundaries surrounding our arrangement. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. Massa’s sudden change in demeanor made me yearn for a more compassionate connection.
“So, we’re back to Stormie now?” I questioned, a hint of disappointment lacing my voice.
“Zip it,” he commanded firmly, his words cutting through the air. “You’ve got to learn how to end every statement of yours with ‘my prince.’ We need this to be as realistic as possible.”
I nodded, reluctantly accepting his instruction. Though I wasn’t making any promises, I was willing to make an effort. “I’ll try,” I replied quietly, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
“Now, let’s go,” Massa declared, diverting our attention from the tension in the room. We took a few steps forward when a commanding voice interrupted our progress.
“And where do you think you’re going with her?” a stern voice demanded, causing both Massa and me to halt in our tracks. Massa quickly straightened his posture, positioning himself protectively in front of me.
“Mother, only you would think to block my path when I’m running late,” Massa retorted, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“You didn’t answer the question, son,” his mother’s voice persisted, unwavering in its demand for an explanation. “What is a wolf doing on our lands?”
“I was kind of expecting you to congratulate me for breaking yet another law,” Massa replied, his tone filled with sarcasm.
“What kind of mother will I be if I do that?” his mother retorted sharply.
“Mine?” Massa’s voice softened; the underlying pain of their strained relationship evident in his words.
“Enough of the delay, Massa. What’s a wolf doing on our lands?” his mother pressed, not willing to be swayed by sentimentality.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m sure Stormie would like to meet you,” Massa suggested, surprising me with his sudden decision to introduce me to his mother.
Before I could even protest or prepare myself for the encounter, I was propelled forward, thrown into the presence of the queen. My heart raced as I found myself face-to-face with a woman whose authority and regal demeanor were undeniable.