The other maids glanced over at them. Layla’s expression briefly showed confusion, but Malyn gestured with a nod of her chin, signaling her to leave. Layla couldn’t say anything more and quickly exited the King’s chamber along with the other maids.

The room fell silent once they left. Though Malyn kept her eyes on the golden hawk statue, her thoughts wandered. The blanket against her skin was unbelievably soft. Unlike the straw-filled blankets she was used to, this one was filled with down feathers and had a pleasant scent. It was pure luxury.

Wrapped in the luxurious blanket, Malyn wondered if it would have been better to slap Layla’s cheek earlier. The sight of her pale, swollen face would have been rather amusing. Lying in such a beautiful room, apologising – what a silly girl Layla was. She wouldn’t be the one lying in Malyn’s place. Layla’s complicated expression had only awakened a sense of mischief in her.

Lost in these thoughts, Malyn missed her chance to greet the King when he entered. The door opened, and as he stepped inside, he looked quite entertained by her silence.

“Are all the women of Dion this stiff?”

He made the remark before climbing onto the bed and gripping her chin. When the young, broad-shouldered King used his large hand to hold her throat almost like a collar, Malyn’s breath caught, but she kept her gaze fixed on the golden hawk as she replied.

“I was lost in thought as to how best to serve such an honoured guest, and I must have dozed off. Forgive me.”

“A maiden who falls asleep on her first night.”

The King murmured, brushing his thumb over Malyn’s lips. The red balm the maids had applied smeared beside her mouth, leaving a sticky feeling. Malyn smiled faintly.

“Your Majesty’s bed is so cozy. It’s a thousand times warmer than anything in Dion.”

“Is that so.”

The King’s voice was low and deep, with the regal weight of a ruler. As he lay down beside her, the cold gold mask touched the back of Malyn’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. At that moment, the King grabbed a rough handful of her hair. A moan escaped her lips – not because she liked it.

“Ahh.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes…”

Drawing out her words like that—men always seemed to enjoy it. In moments like this, instead of screaming or resisting if her skirt was suddenly lifted, it was often wiser to feign affection, softening her voice like warm honey, acting as if she were pleased. The men would then satisfy themselves, foolishly believing they had pleased her too, and eventually leave. She assumed the King wouldn’t be much different. So, Malyn let out a soft, high-pitched sound, almost like a cat’s meow, and reached her arms out to embrace him.

But instead of diving between her legs, the King grabbed her hair and threw her off the bed.

She almost let out a moan, but managed to keep it to a grunt instead. Malyn was startled, but she remembered the head maid’s instructions and tried to keep her eyes on the golden falcon even after she fell from the bed. The King laughed softly.

“As long as you don’t lift my mask, it doesn’t matter where you look.”

“Well…”

“You’ll have to show some enthusiasm, too.”

How painfully thoughtful of him. She had barely gathered herself before she found herself between the King’s knees. The King was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her. He tapped his fingers twice on his legs – as if he wanted her to remove his lower garments. Slowly, Malyn reached out, her hand touching the cloth, and looked up at the King.

The King grabbed her head and pulled her towards him as he spoke:

“Satisfy me with your mouth.”

“……”

“Don’t you understand what I mean?”

Of course, she understood.

***

After two rounds, the King still showed no signs of fatigue. Malyn coughed unintentionally, then looked up at the King in surprise. But instead of reacting negatively, the King lifted her chin as she crouched between his knees and used his thumb to wipe the saliva from her mouth. His fingers were large, long and thick at the joints. When Malyn looked up at him with wide, confused eyes, the King burst out laughing.

“What do you think of me?”

“Well…”

“If I wanted someone experienced, I wouldn’t have taken a princess to my bed.”

With that, the King wiped the saliva from his hand onto the sheet. The shadows under the mask were deep, as if his forehead was high and prominent. In the darkness, Malyn couldn’t see his eyes clearly, so she continued to gauge his reactions carefully. The King looked down at her and laughed softly.

“But you know.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“This unexpected ability is not unwelcome.”

Malyn shivered slightly. The King gripped her chin again, turning her face from side to side as if inspecting a piece of merchandise. When he tore the robe from around her neck, Malyn did not struggle. Lying on the cold, deep indigo carpet, she felt like an animal. The King looked down at her coolly and said:

“They said the Princess of Dion was as thin and brittle as winter branches – it turns out it was all nonsense.”

“……”

Malyn kept silent, aware that while she might dare to slap a maid, she could never do so to a King. His large, knobbly fingers moved over her limbs, pushing them aside like branches. As his cold, rough fingers slipped under her warm, soft skin, Malyn shuddered, though the King seemed pleased by her reaction.

His touch was indifferent, as if he were merely examining an object, and at times his grip was so forceful—twisting and pinching her body as he pleased—that tears pricked at Malyn’s eyes more than once. Still, rather than complain of pain, Malyn obeyed and moved as directed. The King was relentless, continuing to handle and inspect her, and when he finally finished, he pulled her back onto the bed. Yet even then, he didn’t proceed as Malyn had anticipated.

As dawn approached, the King finally seemed to tire of his games and drifted off to sleep. Malyn, however, remained awake. The head maid had made it clear she was never to fall asleep in the King’s chambers.

Her cheeks and jaw throbbed, and her throat felt raw, as if she had swallowed saltwater. Quietly, Malyn slipped on a robe and pulled the bedside bell rope.

Soon, the maids entered quietly and assisted Malyn out of the room. As she returned to her own quarters, one of the maids, who had been crouched by the door, rose unsteadily—it was Layla. Malyn allowed the maids to support her as she stumbled inside, and upon seeing Layla half-collapsed by the doorway, she let out a derisive snort.

In the pale blue light of dawn, Layla remained motionless, staring blankly at Malyn’s retreating figure as she entered her room.