The first blush of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold as Queen Margaret and Royal Consort Josephine made their way back towards the Sunken Pearl Estate. The meticulously kept paths of the Steele gardens felt unnaturally firm beneath their feet.
Walking wasn't painful, exactly. Alaric, for all his brutality, had a strange knack for pushing them to their absolute limits without causing lasting injury. But every muscle protested. There was a deep, internal soreness, a lingering thrum between their legs, a tenderness to skin marked by his hands and mouth.
Margaret tried to maintain her usual regal posture, but her steps were fractionally slower, her back perhaps a little too stiff as she compensated for aching thighs.
