Katerina's fingers clenched her skirts until they trembled as the maids moved around her in practiced silence, stripping away layer after layer of silk. Each rustle of fabric felt like another piece of her dignity slipping away, dissolving into the cold air of the tent. Dorian watched… not with hunger, but with possession. Like a man assessing the spoils of a war he had already won.
Her lips had trembled, but she did not cry.
This was the bargain she had chosen. To save Elyndra, she would give herself.
When the maids withdrew, and the tent flap fell closed, sealing her inside with the man who had nearly destroyed everything she loved, Katerina swallowed her fear and clung to the only words that kept her upright.
"For my people."
She could hear him stripping and she didn't care to look. This was not how she envisioned her first time to be.
Dorian reached for her.
He did not speak.
He did not soothe.
He did not ask.
