Teach Me Dirty

2: Psychological Tyrant

A guard had dared to treat her like this, to speak to her with filth and rough hands, and it had all been allowed because of Nudoz. Because he had shattered her crown and turned her into nothing.

Once she had been Kehanar of Taringhal. Now she was only a prisoner in his keeping, stripped of rank and safety alike. And it seemed every man under his rule felt free to humiliate what he had conquered.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, backing away until cold stone pressed into her shoulders.

It made the guard smirked. “Maybe if you say please, I’ll remember how to use my hands, as be gentle.”

He lunged to her, his fingers closing around her arm. She hissed in pain as he twisted it behind her back, forcing her forward.

“Princesses fall harder than common girls,” he muttered. “And they bleed the same.”

She struggled, twisting and clawing at his hold, but in her desperate attempt to break free from his grip, he seized her clothes to keep her in place. The fabric tore beneath his fist with a loud, and merciless sound.

Kehanar gasped and stumbled back. Quickly, she covered herself with her hands and sank to the floor, curling inward, drawing her knees close as if she could make herself smaller. The cold stone pressed against her trembling body while the guard loomed above her.

He let out a loud laugh, the sound bouncing off the stone as if the walls themselves mocked her fear. He bent again, reaching for what remained of her torn clothes.

“Leave me alone… stop it,” Kehanar cried, shrinking farther into herself, her lips trembling as she whispered a prayer for any angel to hear her, and come to her rescue.

“Stop, Henda.” The command cut through the cell. It made Henda froze and turned.

Sifas stood in the doorway, shadowed by torchlight, his expression mirrored cold ice. His gaze slid from the trembling princess to the guard.

“You forget your place. She is a prisoner of Nudoz… not a toy for bored men like you.” Sifas said quietly.

Henda straightened, seeing at once that Sifas was far from impressed.

“She’s a slave,” Henda reminded him with a shrug. “She’s not meant to wear royal silk. She isn’t a princess here, Sifas.”

Sifas’s jaw tightened as he stepped inside the cell.

“Watch your tone, boy. Don’t forget who I am to you. And besides, I am here on the order of a higher authority. You will leave this cell at once, Henda,” Sifas said.

For a second, defiance flickered in his eyes, but it died quickly. Everyone knew what it meant to cross Nudoz’s personal servant. Slowly, he stepped back, his boots scraping the stone. He shot Kehanar one last, bitter glance, then turned away.

Sifas stared at the curled, trembling figure in front of him. “Come with me,” he said.

Kehanar swallowed and tried to move. Her legs shook as she pushed herself from the floor, holding what remained of her clothes tight so she would not be exposed.

Pain throbbed through her body, but she forced herself upright. Slowly, and unsteadily, she finally stood before him, her hands still clutching the torn fabric to her chest.

Sifas’s eyes lingered on her ruined gown, on the way the fabric had split and how she struggled to keep her chest hidden. The torchlight showed every tear, every sign of what had been done to her.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then his voice came low and firm. “Stand in front of me.”

Kehanar hesitated, shame burning her cheeks, before stepping closer, still clutching the torn cloth as if it were armor against the world.

Kehanar’s mind was a storm of shattered thoughts. It had been only minutes since she had been forced to look upon her father’s decapitated head mounted on a spike. The image would not leave her, it clung to her like blood that would not wash away.

Now she stood before Sifas, barely steady on her feet. Where was this guard taking her again?

She hoped and prayed her mother was well, that King Nudoz would not take her mother’s head as he had her father’s. The fear gnawed at her insides, cold and relentless.

“Move,” Sifas growled. He was not a man of patience.

The command left no room for hesitation. Kehanar lowered her gaze and stepped forward.

Her legs moved, dragging her body into obedience as she wondered where he was taking her, and prayed it would not be another place meant to shatter what little remained of her heart.

The corridor stretched ahead swallowing light.

After a long walk through winding corridors, they reached a heavy wooden door. Sifas pushed it open.

“Go in,” he said.

It made curiosity stirred in her despite her fear. Kehanar stepped across the threshold.

The chamber was dim, she had barely taken in her surroundings when the door closed softly behind her. Sifas did not follow her into the room.

The latch settled into place with a muted click, and it madeconfusion settled in her racing thoughts.

“Hey,” she called, pressing her palms against the cold wood. “Why are you leaving me here?”

Only silence answered at first. Her breath fogged in her chest as unease crept higher. Why bring her inside only to stay behind?

She was scared even to turn and face the place, her breath caught in her chest. For a moment she remained frozen, forcing herself to move.

Then she turned to face the room. Her soul swore it left her body for a second, seeing that Nudoz was already sitting on the bed, and watching her.

The sight struck her. It made her knees weakened, as fear flooded back into her veins.

He rose from the bed, in a slow and deliberate way, and the sound of his boots against the floor made her her scared. Kehanar stepped back at once, until stone met her back.

Nudoz isn’t just the mysterious hot guy she’s heard about. He’s a conqueror, threat, and psychological tyrant, standing before her.

What did he want from her now?