Prince of Gluttony: Born from Betrayal

Julia pressed her hands to her temples, trying to steady her racing thoughts. Her heart pounded with the memory of her own plan, one she had crafted long before Abel whispered his poison into her ear. She had intended to free herself from Cain's shadow through charm rather than betrayal. Her goal had been Astarius, the 3rd Prince. He was a scholar, quiet and thoughtful, the kind of man who inspired true devotion. Julia had loved him in her own way, not with childish infatuation but with a steady flame that had burned for years. She would have given him everything if he had only asked.

But now that dream felt as distant as the stars. Abel's plan had seemed more efficient, more certain, but the cost of failure was suddenly very real. The duel loomed, and if Cain survived, his vengeance would be merciless. Julia could almost feel his eyes on her already, waiting for her misstep, waiting to tear apart every excuse she might conjure.

Her only option now was to abandon the path of love and cling to survival. Paigos, the 6th Prince, was nothing like the one she had wanted. He was lustful and reckless, more interested in his own pleasures than the pursuit of knowledge. Yet even his selfish desires could serve her if she bent herself to them. If he could be made to see her as his prize, perhaps he would shield her from Cain's fury.

It was a bitter thought, settling for a man she did not respect, but Julia's pride had long since been broken. She whispered to herself that she would endure it, that she would make Paigos believe he had conquered her heart, even if it meant strangling her true feelings for Astarius. Survival demanded sacrifice, and she was not ready to die in the wake of Cain's return.

ulia stared down at her hands and shuddered at the sight. Her fingernails were jagged, bloody from being chewed until the pain no longer registered. She could not stop herself. Every bite was a poor attempt to still the panic rising in her chest as she searched for a way out of the corner she had trapped herself in.

Paigos had never been clumsy with his advances. They were sleazy and commanding, the kind of words that made her feel as if he were already reaching for her even when he was not in the room. His letters had carried that same tone, sharp and possessive, each one reminding her that he believed she would be his eventually. Before, she had hidden behind Cain, using her subservience to the prince as a shield that Paigos dared not push too far. When Cain disappeared, she had crafted another mask. She had pretended to be in mourning, withdrawing into shadows and letting silence serve as her excuse. It had been easy to toss Paigos' letters aside, unopened, a small act of defiance she believed she could afford.

But now she could not afford it. The duel loomed, and Cain's survival meant her ruin. She needed Paigos, even if the thought twisted her stomach. He had sent a letter nearly every week, a steady rhythm of unwanted attention that she had taken for granted. Yet today the mail had not arrived, and dread coiled in her gut at the thought that perhaps he had grown tired of being ignored.

Julia dug her bleeding nails into her palms and whispered a prayer she did not believe in. She did not want him, had never wanted him, but she needed his protection now. If the letter came, she would answer it with the submission he craved. If it did not, then she had no shield at all.

Her breaths came shallow, each one tighter than the last. The silence of her chamber pressed down on her as if the walls themselves were listening to her thoughts. She rose and began to pace, every step a frantic attempt to wear down her fear. The floor creaked under her feet, but no sound came from the hall beyond. No knock. No servant bearing the folded seal of Paigos.

Her mind chased itself in circles. If the letter never came, what could she do? Throw herself at him in the open court and risk humiliation? Slip into his path and beg for favor? The thought made her stomach twist, but the alternative was worse. Cain had never been blind to betrayal, and he would not forgive it now that he had clawed his way back from death itself.

She pressed her nails deeper into her palms, biting her lip until the taste of iron filled her mouth. Memories of Astarius stabbed through her like a cruel reminder of the path she had lost. She had imagined standing at his side, quiet and dignified, her love a secret strength she would one day confess. That dream had been fragile even then, but at least it had been hers. Now it lay shattered, replaced with the looming figure of Paigos, a man who saw her not as a woman but as a possession waiting to be claimed.

A knock at the door broke the silence. Julia froze, her breath caught in her throat. For a moment she could not move, could not even summon the strength to answer. The sound came again, sharper this time, followed by the muffled voice of a servant announcing the arrival of the mail.

Her knees nearly gave out with relief. She rushed to the door and pulled it open, forcing a smile she did not feel as the folded bundle was placed into her trembling hands. The servant bowed and departed without a word, leaving her alone with the weight of possibility.

She tore through the stack, scattering lesser letters across the floor until she found it. The seal of the 6th Prince, pressed deep in red wax, stared up at her like a cruel brand. Her stomach knotted, her throat dry as sand. She held it against her chest for a moment, eyes closed, whispering a thank you to a god she did not believe in.

The letter was heavier than the others, the wax thick and deliberate. Paigos had not grown tired of her silence after all. He was still waiting, still reaching, and now she would have to answer.

Julia broke the seal with shaking fingers. The parchment inside was laced with perfume, sickly sweet, and the words were written in Paigos' broad, careless hand. Each line dripped with ownership, with certainty, as if he were not asking but declaring that she belonged to him.

Her lips trembled as she read, though she already knew what it would say. Paigos promised her protection, promised to raise her above the ashes of Cain's fury, promised everything she needed—so long as she gave herself in return.

Her eyes blurred. She pressed the parchment to her chest, nails digging into the edges until they bent. Astarius' face flickered in her memory, gentle and distant, before it was smothered by the shadow of Paigos' grin.

Julia drew a shuddering breath. She had prayed for the letter, and the gods had answered. Now there was no escape.