Peta Pledges Her Cleavage Allegiance |link| -

Peta smiled, slow and sure. “Only the right to stand close enough to use it. When the assassin’s blade comes, let my heart be your shield. When the poison is poured, let my instincts be your taster. You have a thousand people who would die for you from a distance, Your Magnificence. I am the only one asking to die against you.”

“Your Magnificence,” Peta said, her voice a silken purl that cut through the court’s murmur. She did not bow. Instead, she placed a hand on the plunging neckline of her gown of midnight velvet. It was a calculated gesture, theatrical and absurd, yet delivered with the gravity of a high priestess at an altar. peta pledges her cleavage allegiance

Peta didn’t care. Her cleavage, warm and steady, thrummed with victory. The pledge was made. The game had just begun. Peta smiled, slow and sure

The Sovereign leaned forward. The court fell silent. This was either the rise of a genius or the fall of a fool. When the poison is poured, let my instincts be your taster

The air in the Grand Foyer of the Diamond Sovereign’s palace was thick with the scent of jasmine and ambition. Ladies in waiting, duchesses, and foreign dignitaries lined the crimson carpet, their eyes fixed on the throne where the Sovereign lounged, bored, picking at a plate of candied figs.

“My ears, my hands, my mind, and my voice are yours,” she declared. “But these?” She gestured to the smooth, alabaster curve of skin above her heart. “These I pledge anew.”