Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 49: King Augustus Malik Part One

I sink into the plush chair, the kind of comfort that almost makes you forget you're in enemy territory. The upholstery swallows me whole, cradling my body in velvet softness, and for a moment, I let it. The room is silent, save for the faint crackle of some unseen fire and the ever-present hum of distant footsteps echoing through marble halls. I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling, fingers twitching on the armrest.

Behind the mask, I'm unraveling. It's only been a few hours since I woke up from my coma and to much has happened already today. I'm trying to pretend what I did doesn't eat at me, trying to wear my current mask of indifference like armor. But it's a paper shield against something far deeper. The Fearmonger's whispers still claw at the edges of my mind, laughing, delighting in the slaughter. My powers twisted my reality, turned instinct into execution. I keep thinking what if next time I don't come back from it? Is this the extreme suffering damned voices meant when they gave me three marks of power?

I must have drifted off.

I wake with a sharp inhale, body tense before my mind catches up. There's a girl standing in front of me, frozen mid-step, her hand hovering awkwardly in the air, inches from my shoulder. Soft features. Big brown eyes. She jerks her hand back like I'd burned her and bows so fast her braid flops forward.

"S-sorry, Awakened Daath," she stammers. "I was sent by Awakened Kennet. You should follow me."

I blink the last of the haze away and sit up, stretching slowly, deliberately. My body still feels stiff, like it remembers more of that damn teleportation than I do. I flash her a lopsided smile just a flicker, just enough to be disarming and gesture toward the door.

"After you Miss."

She bows again, lower this time, and hurries toward the door, her simple white servant's gown fluttering around her legs. It's definitely shorter than it needs to be. Probably by design.

I follow, boots echoing softly behind her through corridor after corridor. The castle doesn't lose its weight no matter how long I spend in it every inch of the place meant to remind you just how small you are. Still, something about this feels off. We're going deeper into the castle, but the grandeur is fading with every turn. Less ornamentation. Simpler walls. No guards.

Finally, we stop in front of a small bedroom. Not lavish, not even particularly elegant. Just... a room. I raise a brow, confusion simmering under my calm.

The girl turns to me, her eyes wide and soft, her voice even softer. "His Majesty is tied up in some important matters," she says, almost apologetically. "But he felt bad about leaving such an honored guest alone... so I was sent to keep you company, my lord. My name is Estee."

I stare at her not understanding

She pulls me into the room so quickly I barely register what's happening. The door clicks shut behind me.

Before I can ask anything, Estee turns to face me and lets her robe fall to the floor.

I freeze. My heart skips a a few beats.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, voice tight in panic.

She doesn't even flinch. Just tilts her head like she's confused by the question. Her body is completely bare now, soft and pale under the dim gold light. She takes a step closer, then another.

"My Lord?" she says, as if I'm the one acting strange. "I was sent to keep you company until His Majesty is ready to see you."

And then she's on me hands warm against my chest, pushing me backward until the bed catches my knees and I fall onto it. She climbs into my lap without hesitation, her lips brushing mine before I even think to stop her.

Horror slams into my gut.

"Hey.... hey, no," I stammer, trying to pull away. "What are you ... stop"

But she doesn't. She presses herself harder against me, eyes glazed like she's not even seeing me anymore. Just doing what she was told.

The voices that have been dulled at the edge of my mind since I woke up slip through just to taunt.

She knows her place. This is your right. You are power. You are a God. Take her offering boy.

"No," I whisper, trying to shove her off but not too hard. I don't want to hurt her. She's not the problem. She's just a pawn ordered to do this.

But her fingers are already undoing the clasp of my robe, slipping beneath the folds to press against my skin.

I blush hard, not from lust but from shame. And the voices keep whispering their voices high with glee.

"She wants to serve. Let her." 

My fingers dig into her shoulders, trying to lift her off, and she gasps softly mistaking it for something else entirely.

"Please," I say, voice breaking. "Stop."

But she doesn't stop.

I try to pull away, to put distance between us, but Estee's laughter dances over the space like an unseen veil, muffling my panic. Her lips are warm against mine, insistent, as she grinds her hips against me, each movement sending a rush of conflicting sensations through my body. I'm caught in this awful tug-of-war of shock and an unwilling, primal response that sickens me.

"No!" The word is a growl torn from my throat, a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control. It's lost in the chaos that follows, as I'm flooded with memories of Cecilia. I flush with shame, furious with myself for betraying her. My body is experiencing something entirely different than what my mind can comprehend.

With a burst of anger, I forcefully flip her off me, but she only laughs, that sound ringing sharp like glass breaking in the silence. In an instant, her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me back to her, claiming me again. She kisses me fiercely, her tongue sliding back into my mouth, and I can't help the way my body reacts, betraying my better judgment.

Stop," I say, my voice low and threatening, yet underlined with a tremor. Though I've pinned her arms above her head, I can feel her breathing—the rise and fall of her chest, the heat radiating from her skin. She looks up at me, confusion flickering in her large, doe-like brown eyes.

"My lord, stop what?" she asks, her voice laced with an innocence that's almost maddening. I hesitate, horror creeping in as I search her expression. Does she really not understand? How many times has she been paraded around in obedience, conditioned to see this as her purpose?

This brief moment of doubt leaves me frozen between two worlds—one where she is nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game, and another where I'm a monster perpetuating that game. But before I can fully process it, her body moves with a fluidity that shocks me back to the present. In an instant, she frees her arms, her hands gliding hungrily over my body before pulling my head down against her soft, inviting breasts.

My senses ignite, and the world narrows to just this: heartbeats, breaths intertwined. But shame and repulsion churn in my gut, tearing at me.

"Estee, please," I beg, trying to summon some edge of authority in my tone. But she just moans, a sound that reverberates deep within me, igniting a fire I don't want to feel.

"Just let go, my lord. I'm here for you," she whispers, and the certainty in her voice only deepens my horror. I realize the truth of her words in a way I wish I didn't, she's not pretending. This is her reality, a conditioning that twists her belief in pleasure into something devoid of consent.

I pull back, breaking free from the daze of it all, longing to be back in Lont.

"No," I say, sharper now my voice laced with anger. "You need to stop." But as I hold her gaze, the haunting questions consume me: Who am I to dictate her desires? How many more like her are trapped in this cycle, dissociated from their own bodies?

For the first time, the reality of the castle's ugliness crashes over me like a wave. Estee continues to study me, her expression shifting from confusion to amusement, a soft, melodic laugh escaping her lips. "Okay, my lord," she says, her voice light and airy. "We don't need to do this now if you don't want."

Before I can even process her words, she pushes back against the bed, her body turning in a way that exposes everything—soft curves and smooth skin laid bare under the dim light. My breath hitches, an involuntary response clawing at my reason. The sight makes me uncomfortable, a feeling that gnaws at me from the pit of my stomach. I turn my eyes away, desperately trying to quell the heat creeping up my neck. I'm faced with the grim reality of the moment, my mind swirling with revulsion and anger.

Read lat𝙚st chapters at fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓ Only.

I stand up abruptly, trying to shake off the residue of her touch still lingering on me. My robe lies crumpled on the floor where she had yanked it free from my neck, and I grab it, the fabric rough against my skin. I can't bear to be here any longer, or look at her any more than I already have. There's something disgusting about the entire situation. A grotesque exploitation of an innocent being forced into this role.

As I flee the room, a suffocating feeling wraps around me, the air thick with everything I've just endured. My mind races with thoughts of Awakened Kennet and the King whichever one was the cause for this but the more I think about it I realize they are both twisted bastards and with every step, my anger grows. The way they weaponize innocence, the utter disregard for Estee's humanity; the realization makes my blood boil. Not just my own violation weighs heavily on me, but the knowledge of Estee's existence as a mere plaything for someone else's entertainment feels like a stain on my soul.

What a deplorable existence she lives, reduced to nothing more than a creature for the pleasure of others. I carry that thought with me, the image of her laughter mingling with the horror of her reality. The Empire is a cancer, and I'm trapped in its heart, suffocating and powerless.

As I storm down the hallway, the grandeur of the castle feels stifling, every gilded corner reminding me of the rot that lies beneath. Estee's soft voice carries after me, calling, "I'll stop by later when you're more agreeable!" The words strike me like a lash, making my teeth grind. I don't want to be agreeable and I wont be. I don't want any part of this and just the thought of seeing her again fills me with fury and a sense of helplessness.

I push through the hallways, the sound of my boots against the marble a stark reminder of the solitude I feel overseeing me like a shroud. The weight of the castle looms large, a tangible darkness pressing in on me as I navigate its twisting corridors, seeking the room I was in before.

Every step echoes my rising fury, mixing with an inexplicable sorrow for Estee. I can't shake the feeling that I've failed her already, failed to be more than just another cog in their cruel machine.

I finally reach a door I recognize the same massive one Awakened Kennet pushed through, was that hours ago? I don't even know at this point I've completely lost track of time. The moment I step inside, the enormity of what I've just experienced presses down on my chest. I lean against the closed door, heart racing, mind swirling, and for the first time in a long while, I feel the hot sting of tears forming at the back of my eyes.