Chapter 9: Solarium Seduction
The steam of the baths clung to Teresa for days. It felt seared into her skin, a phantom humidity that no amount of perfumed soap could scour away. More persistent was the memory of Isolde’s shattered expression, the way her polished ambition had liquefied under Teresa’s tongue. It created a silent, fraught understanding between them in the council chambers and the hallways—a glance held a second too long, a deliberate avoidance that spoke louder than words.
Teresa moved through her duties like a finely crafted automaton. She smiled at dignitaries, debated trade tariffs, and listened to her father’s worries about the northern grain yields. All the while, her mind replayed the slapping of water on marble, the raw sounds torn from Isolde’s throat. It had been simpler in the steam. Now, in the clear light of day, it was a complication that throbbed like a bruise.
It was in this state of distracted tension that Princess Amberley Ashwick arrived.
The announcement echoed through the great hall. Teresa, standing beside her father’s throne, pasted on her most diplomatic smile. Amberley entered not with the stiff formality of Isolde, but with a liquid grace, her gown of deep forest green flowing around her like a shadow given substance. Her dark hair was a cascade over one shoulder, and her emerald eyes found Teresa’s immediately. They didn’t scan the room, assess the king, or acknowledge the competing nobles. They locked onto Teresa with an intensity that felt like a physical touch.
The formal greetings were a blur. Amberley’s voice was low, melodious. Her words were perfectly correct, expressing pleasure at the invitation and admiration for Eldoria’s renowned solarium. But her gaze never wavered. It was predatory, hungry, and entirely disarming.
“I should very much like to see it,” Amberley said, her lips curving. “If Her Highness would do me the honor?”
It wasn’t a request. It was a summons.
The solarium was indeed dazzling. The afternoon sun poured through the arched glass ceiling, painting the white marble floors with brilliant, shifting panes of light. Lush, tropical plants thrived in the humid warmth, their leaves glistening. The air smelled of damp earth and blooming jasmine. The only sounds were the gentle plash of a central fountain and the distant, muffled murmurs of the court beyond the gilded doors.
“It’s magnificent,” Amberley said, stopping in a beam of sunlight that set her hair aflame with dark highlights. She turned to face Teresa. The polite mask vanished. “They talk about you, you know. In my father’s court.”
Teresa kept her posture relaxed, her hands clasped loosely before her. “Do they? I hope the reports are at least entertaining.”
“Oh, endlessly.” Amberley took a step closer. The scent of her, sandalwood and orange blossom, cut through the jasmine. “The sharp-tongued princess. The heir who would rather fence with words than wield a ceremonial sword. The beauty who remains, puzzlingly, unmarried.” Another step. “They don’t talk about the look in your eyes right now, though.”
“And what look is that?”
“Like you’re screaming inside a soundproof room.” Amberley was close enough now that Teresa could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. “Like you’re so bored of playing chess with pawns that you’re ready to flip the board.”
Teresa’s breath hitched. It was too accurate, a needle sliding straight into a hidden vein. “You’ve been here less than an hour, Princess. You presume a great deal.”
“I observe,” Amberley corrected. Her gaze dropped to Teresa’s mouth. “I see the tension in your neck. The way your fingers just twitched. You are a woman coiled so tight a single touch might make you snap.” She leaned in, her voice a whisper that feathered against Teresa’s lips. “Let me be that touch.”
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t an exploration. It was a claim.
Amberley’s mouth crushed against Teresa’s, tongue thrusting past her lips in a single, aggressive motion. It was wet, deep, and filthy. Teresa’s mind blanked. All the fraught tension of the last days, the confusion, the lingering taste of Isolde—it combusted into a pure, physical need. She kissed back with equal ferocity, her hands coming up to tangle in Amberley’s luxurious hair, pulling her closer.
Amberley walked her backward until Teresa’s shoulder blades hit the warm glass of a tall windowpane. The sun burned through the fabric of her gown. Amberley’s body pressed against hers, all soft curves and unyielding demand. She broke the kiss, breathing harshly.
“I heard about your little bathhouse revel,” Amberley murmured, her teeth grazing Teresa’s jaw. “The virtuous Isolde, brought low. The perfect princess, getting filthy.” Her hand slid from Teresa’s waist, over her hip, and plunged under the layers of silk and taffeta of her skirt. “Did you like it? Playing the conqueror?”
Teresa gasped as Amberley’s fingers found the bare skin of her inner thigh. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It’s always like that.” Amberley’s fingers pushed higher, ruthlessly seeking. “Power is the only real aphrodisiac.” Her fingertips brushed through coarse curls and found her, slick and already throbbing. “Fuck, you’re wet. Is it for me? Or is it just the memory of being full of that pretty lord’s cock?”
The crude words, delivered in that cultured voice, sent a violent shiver through Teresa. “Stop talking.”
“Make me.”
Teresa twisted, using her leverage to reverse their positions, pinning Amberley against the glass. The princess’s emerald eyes flashed with delight. Teresa kissed her again, sucking on her tongue, biting her lower lip. Her own hand shoved Amberley’s skirts up, her fingers fumbling with the lacing of her drawers before ripping the flimsy silk aside.
There was no finesse. Teresa pushed two fingers inside Amberley without preamble. She was tight, scalding hot, and clenched around her instantly.
“Yes,” Amberley hissed, her head thumping back against the window. Her own hand was busy, rucking up Teresa’s skirts, her fingers just as impatient. They found Teresa’s clit, rubbing hard, frantic circles. “God, you feel good. Fuck me harder. Show me what you did to her.”
Teresa obeyed, fucking Amberley with her fingers in a rough, piston-like rhythm. The heels of her hands ground against Amberley’s clit with each thrust. Their breaths fogged the glass. Across the solarium, anyone could walk in. The risk was electric, adding a razor’s edge to the building frenzy.
Amberley’s movements were just as urgent. Her fingers slid down, pressing at Teresa’s entrance before plunging in deep. They both cried out, a ragged duet that echoed off the glass ceiling. It was a contest, a mutual devouring, each trying to outpace the other, to wring a more visceral sound, a more violent shudder.
“Come for me, you royal bitch,” Amberley panted, her rhythm faltering as Teresa curled her fingers inside her, hitting a spot that made her legs buckle. “Come on my hand while I fuck you.”
The coarseness, the pressure, the blinding sunlight—it was too much. Teresa’s climax ripped through her like a lightning strike, a silent, open-mouthed scream contorting her face. Her body convulsed, her inner muscles clamping rhythmically around Amberley’s buried fingers.
The sensation of Teresa pulsing around her drove Amberley over the edge seconds later. She threw her head back, a guttural, un-princess-like roar tearing from her throat as she came, her own release soaking Teresa’s plunging hand.
They slumped against the window, a tangle of damp, disordered gowns and heaving chests. The scent of sex, sharp and primal, cut through the floral air. Slowly, Amberley withdrew her hand, bringing her glistening fingers to her mouth. She licked them clean, her eyes never leaving Teresa’s.
Teresa, her own fingers slick with Amberley, felt a dizzying surge of power and degradation. She mimicked the gesture, tasting the other princess on her skin. It was salty, musky, a trophy.
Amberley’s smile was slow, satisfied, and devoid of kindness. “Now we understand each other,” she said, her voice regaining its composure with frightening speed. She smoothed down her skirts, a queen reassembling her armor. “You’re not the only one trapped in a gilded cage, Teresa. But some of us have decided to enjoy the fucking bars.”
She turned to leave, then paused at the solarium door. “Isolde Von Hess is meeting with your father’s treasurer this afternoon. She’s not here for a husband. She’s here for a treaty that would grant her family control of the southern mines. She’s using the marriage gossip as a distraction.” Amberley glanced back, her emerald eyes cold and clear. “You can keep fucking your tension away with pretty twins and rival princesses. Or you can start playing the real game.”
She left, the door clicking shut behind her with finality.
Teresa stayed by the window, the sun warming the sweat cooling on her skin. The taste of Amberley was in her mouth, the phantom ache of her fingers inside her. The revelation about Isolde settled in her gut, cold and heavy. The board hadn’t just been flipped. It had been revealed as a lie, and new, more dangerous pieces were now in play. The scream inside the soundproof room was no longer silent. It had a voice, and it was laughing.