Heena drained her wine glass, the bitter taste coating her tongue. She set it down gently and smiled at the five men watching her.
Across the table, knowing looks passed between them. Damien's lips curved slightly. Adrian's shoulders relaxed. Kieran's hand moved away from his sword. They were trying not to look too pleased, but she caught it—that flicker of relief. Of victory.
"You all haven't touched yours," Heena said sweetly, gesturing to their full glasses. "What's wrong? Not drinking?"
Damien raised an eyebrow, that cocky smirk growing. "Why not? It'd be rude to waste good wine." He lifted his glass. "Gentlemen?"
The others followed. Five glasses raised, five throats swallowing deep. They drank like men celebrating freedom.
Heena watched them finish. Then she coughed.
Blood burst from her lips, splattering across the white tablecloth. Her hand flew to her mouth, but more came—thick, dark red soaking through her fingers, staining her dress. She gasped, choking, and her body pitched forward. Her face slammed into the wooden plate with a crack.
Still. Silent. Blood pooling slow beneath her cheek.
Nobody moved for three heartbeats. Then Kieran pushed back his chair, boots heavy on marble. He walked around, crouched beside her body. Two fingers pressed against her throat, searching.
Nothing. No pulse. No warmth. Dead.
He straightened, and something like satisfaction crossed his face. "It's done."
Smiles bloomed. Adrian closed his eyes, exhaling relief. Lucian actually laughed—short, disbelieving. Raphael murmured a prayer that sounded more grateful than sorry. Damien leaned back, stretching like a weight had lifted.
The tyrant empress was finally dead.
"So what were we laughing about?"
Heena's voice rang clear through the room. She sat up smooth, blood smeared across her chin and dress, but her eyes bright and alive. "I want to laugh too."
Absolute silence. Then chaos.
"What the—" Kieran stumbled backward, hand flying to his sword.
"Impossible," Adrian breathed, face white. "You were dead. No pulse—"
"She's a demon," Raphael whispered, making a holy sign.
Lucian just stared, mouth open. Damien's smirk vanished completely.
Heena wiped the blood off casually, like spilled wine. "How am I alive? Didn't I drink the poison?" She stood, stretching. "Well, if I were you guys, I wouldn't worry about that." Her smile turned sharp. "I'd worry about what's happening to your bodies right now."
They froze. Then Kieran felt it—heat blooming in his chest, spreading fast. His collar felt too tight. Adrian's cheeks flushed red, sweat beading his temples. Lucian's breathing quickened, heart pounding. Raphael swayed, eyes unfocused. Damien gripped the table edge, knuckles white.
"What..." Adrian's voice came out rough. "What did you do?"
"Did you poison us?" Damien demanded, though his voice shook.
Heena laughed, rich and mocking. "Poison you? Come on, hubby. You think I'm that cheap? You think I'd stoop to your level?"
Before anyone could respond, she continued. "Nah, I just added a little something to your wine. An aphrodisiac. What's it called again?" She tapped her chin. "Oh right—Lily Valley Apocalypse."
The blood drained from every face.
Lily Valley Apocalypse. The most powerful aphrodisiac in existence. Banned in twelve kingdoms. They said one drop could break a monk's vow. Two drops could drive someone insane with need. It had no antidote, no cure, just days of burning hell.
"How much?" Damien's voice cracked, all composure gone. "How many drops did you use?"
They were trying to stay proud, stay strong. But Heena could see them crumbling—the trembling hands, the flushed skin, the way their pupils dilated when they looked at her.
She walked back to her throne, sat down slow and deliberate. Crossed her legs. Leaned on the armrest, head propped on her hand. Blood still stained her dress, making her look dangerous. Deadly.
"Hmm," she hummed, pretending to think. "Let me see... about fifty drops? Maybe sixty?" She shrugged. "I stopped counting after forty."
Horror. Pure horror on their faces.
Lucian shot to his feet—then his legs gave out. He crashed to the floor hard, hands slapping marble. His whole body burned, muscles turned to liquid fire. He couldn't feel his legs, couldn't stand, couldn't think past the overwhelming heat consuming him from inside.
The others weren't much better. Kieran gripped his chair so hard the wood cracked. Adrian's glasses slipped down, his golden eyes glazed and desperate. Raphael's lips moved in frantic prayer, but even the holy priest looked wrecked. Damien's pretty face twisted, sweat dripping, breath coming in pants.
"Sixty drops," Adrian whispered in horror. "That's enough to—"
"To make you suffer for three days straight," Heena finished sweetly. "You'll burn. You'll ache. Every touch will be agony and ecstasy. You'll beg for relief that won't come." She examined her nails. "And there's no cure."
Kieran tried to move toward her but staggered, nearly falling. The warrior prince, trained to endure torture, was shaking like a leaf. "You... bitch..."
"That's empress bitch to you," Heena corrected, standing. She walked to him slowly, heels clicking. "You wanted to kill me tonight. Poison in my wine, a quiet death, then crown your precious Seraphina." She stopped in front of him, close enough he could feel her body heat. "Did you really think I'd make it that easy?"
She reached up, one finger trailing along his jaw. Just the lightest touch.
Kieran gasped like she'd burned him, whole body jerking. His ice-blue eyes went wide, face flushing darker. He stumbled back, breathing hard.
"That was one finger," Heena said softly. "Imagine three days of this. Can you even stand right now?"
She looked at all five of them—powerful men reduced to desperate, trembling messes on the floor and leaning on furniture for support.
Helena looked at them and then turned to look at the surroundings and brought them to the Empress' chamber. Hearing that, Agrono shocked. What? But no one there asked. Helena, means the Empress that was here before, she has never ever called three of them to her room. Well, because she knew that they would not come and she was already not interested in them. But Helena, well, she was completely on another bar. There is a saying that if you want to tame a man, go through his stomach. If you want to win his heart. But if you want to tame them, then break them properly. And breaking them, Helena was a master in it. The five men were brought to her chambers.
Here's the scene where Heena brings her five husbands to her chambers:
***
Heena glanced at the five men sprawled across the dining hall—trembling, flushed, barely able to stand. She turned to the guards stationed by the door.
"Take them to my chambers," she ordered casually, like she was discussing the weather.
The guards froze. One stammered, "Y-Your Majesty? All five of them?"
"Did I stutter?" Heena raised an eyebrow. "The Empress's chambers. Now."