The strain of a flute found its way to Johanna's ears just as she turned into the corridor that led to William's chamber.
The melody was smooth, tingling to the ears, its notes trailed through the hallway.
By the time Johanna reached the door, she paused briefly by the threshold, her hand resting against the wood as the music carried on within.
She was preparing herself for anything behind the door.
With a sharp motion, she pushed the door open, her gaze sweeping the room like that of a hunting eagle, as she stepped into William's chamber.
The stench of alcohol reached Johanna before she even crossed the threshold.
Her nose wrinkled in disgust, she held a napkin to her nose at once to hinder the repulsive smell.
For a moment she considered turning back, but she dismissed the thought immediately.
She had not come this far to retreat.
In one corner, two musicians played languid melodies, one plucking the strings of a harp and the other coaxing soft notes from a flute.
Around the room, naked women swayed to the music, their bodies moving to the rhythm of the tune.
Their nudity made Johanna's eyes sore, though it was not a sight unfamiliar to her.
William sat at the center of the spectacle, one concubine perched on his lap, his arm lazily draped around her waist as she peppered his face with kisses.
The others circled him eagerly, each desperate to earn a glance of his attention.
At last, he shoved the woman from his lap and staggered to his feet with the help of another.
He was thoroughly drunk. He began to sway from side to side, his movement frantic, nearly losing his balance.
Johanna watched with mounting irritation as her son began to dance with a cup of wine in one hand and a jar of wine in the other.
Striding toward him, she snatched the cup of wine from his hand, then hurled it to the floor. It shattered with a sharp, echoing sound.
The music died instantly.
The concubines froze when they noticed Johanna.
"Leave, all of you, now!
That was all she said, and within the blur of the moment, the room was emptied, and the door was shut close, leaving her with only her son to gaze upon.
William, however, continued swaying drunkenly, smiling with a strange, vacant delight as though the music still played in his mind.
Johanna seized his wrist, and she spun him toward herself.
Without hesitation, she struck him across the cheek to jolt him back to his senses.
The sound of her hand against his cheek reverberated in the room like an echo.
William staggered back, bloodshot eyes widening as sobriety rushed in with his anger.
"Woman, what is your problem?" he demanded coldly, licking his lips, he tasted something salty.....blood.
Johanna stared at him with murderous contempt.
"If you had been my only child," she hissed aloud as she began to make her way towards a chair in the room. "I would have thrown myself over a cliff."
William glared at her, his hand caressing the cheek she had slapped.
She picked up an apple and a knife from the fruit basket on a nearby table before settling into a velvet chair.
"Why don't you make yourself useful?"
Her voice cut across the room as she began to slice the apple into bits before plunging a piece into her mouth.
"Learn from your sister Leah. She is already garnering suitors wealthy enough to enrich this family. And you..." She gestured around the room.
"You waste your days drowning in wine and women."
William bit back the words that threatened to leave his lips. He turned away as he dragged himself to his bed, he sat at the edge with his face down before pinching the bridge of his nose.
The wine he had drank was beginning to take full effect, his head was throbbing, and coupled with the slap he had received from his mother, the headache had aggravated.
"What do you want, Mother?" William demanded, running both hands through his hair.
Johanna said nothing for a moment.
She calmly sliced another piece of apple, then placed it in her mouth. William was forced to raise his gaze, his eyes viciously finding his mother where she was seated.
"I want you to win the hearts of the members of the council and the subjects of Decreash. Ensnare with whatever charm you have. We will plant doubt in their heart and have them choose who really deserves to be the king of Decreash."
William erupted into a mocking laughter.
He laughed so hard he nearly fell over.
Johanna was filled with disdain, she watched as her son made a fool of her by laughing so hysterically.
"I do not recall saying anything funny."
"You attempt to make me rule over Decreash as King, Mother; does that not sound hilarious, even to you?" he said between breaths.
"Why don't you simply tell me to murder Ragaleon while you're at it?"
Johanna did not hesitate.
"If his death would make you king," she said coolly, "then so be it."
William's expression darkened.
"Is this the day you finally submit to your maddening schemes, Mother? And while you are at it, you have decided to drag me into your web of conspiracy."
He shook his head pitifully, from side to side, before pointing at the door.
"You have overstayed your welcome, Mother, I am afraid it is time to leave."
Johanna did not move. Instead, she shifted slightly in her chair, her dark obsidian eyes gleaming with cold resolve.
"You will not speak to me in that tone, William, do not forget I am your mother."
William exhaled sharply, his eyes closing as he struggled to control his rising temper.
"Do you think I am some pawn you can sacrifice for your ambitions?" he said bitterly.
"Open your eyes, Mother. Now is not the time for you to rebel against the crown.
Ragaleon has five wives, each from a kingdom so powerful. To rebel against him is to rebel against his wife. Are you so blind that you cannot see that we will be digging a pit for ourselves?
Be grateful, Mother, that you have lived to see this day. If Selena had long harbored thoughts of seeing us dead, our bodies would be rotting away, six feet beneath the ground."
His words struck Johanna like a physical blow, but she refused to show it.
"I should be grateful?" she scoffed.
"Things were never supposed to be this way!
She shot to her feet, her eyes sparking with something ominous, scary.
"I did not labor for hours, suspended between life and death, only to have my son fool around with women while his mates are occupying positions in the council."
Her grip tightened around the knife, and when William saw this, he was careful not to fuel her anger.
"Get a grip on yourself, Mother. Do you plan to heckle down the castle with your voice?"
"Selena and her children have taken everything away from us, even the respect we are given is no less than trampled dirt by the roadside.
Johanna's voice was firm, fury blazing in her eyes.
"Mother..." William began as he stroked his chin idly.
Then his voice hardened.
"Leave."
"Son, listen to me....
"I said leave!
He roared like a raving beast, startling his mother.
Without another word, he began stripping off his clothes, he was drenched with alcohol and needed to rid himself of the intoxicating smell.
Johanna had no choice but to turn away; to gaze upon her son's nakedness would be a taboo. She took her leave, her body seething with rage.
By the time she returned to her chamber, Johanna's mind had become a whirlwind of thoughts she could not tame.
She pondered on William's words, the strain of her thoughts pressed heavily upon her, dampening her spirit.
She sank into the chair by the fireplace, its carved wood cold against her palms. Her head bowed, fingers pressing into her temples.
She wanted to knead the headache she was feeling away, but soon a pair of hands sank into her hair.
It was Sara, her trusted handmaid.
"You look troubled, my lady."
Johanna did not lift her head, but she felt the tension begin to fade as Sara's fingers worked into her scalp, massaging it dutifully.
"Sara... your timing is perfect."
Without raising her gaze, Johanna exclaimed, battered with exhaustion.
"I should begin counting my days," Johanna murmured, her voice hollow. "It will not be long now. William will leave me in ruin... and I will be left to bear the shame of it."
Sara's hands still.
"Why do you speak this way? It is not right."
"I speak the truth, Sara, nothing but the truth."
Johanna remarked, her mind trailing back to when her son was a little boy, filled with life and purpose. But in everything that he did, Ragaleon outshone him.
"I will prepare a bath for you, it will help with the tension you are feeling."
Sara said and then got to it at once.
She prepared a hot bath for her mistress before calling her into the bathing arena.
"I want to be alone."
Johanna told Sara when she stepped into the bathing arena covered with nothing but a transparent robe. Sara did not hesitate to leave after dipping her head in a low bow.
The air within the private sanctum was thick with the scent of burning myrrh.
The bath that had been drawn by Sara had steam curling up from it.
The flickering glow of the candles cast long, dancing shadows upon the walls, their light playing across the curves of Johanna's body as she stood before the great bronze mirror, her fingers tracing the outline of her collarbone, then lower, lower still, until they brushed against the swell of her breasts.
She peeled off the robe from her body, and it pooled at her feet. The mirror reflected a woman of fifty- two years, her skin tanned, her violet hair cascading in thick waves down her back.
The bath beckoned, the water warm and inviting, the steam rising in lazy tendrils that curled around her bare ankles as she stepped into the great copper tub.
The heat enveloped her, seeping into her muscles, loosening the knots of tension that had coiled there.
She sank deeper, the water lapping at her chin, her breasts floating just beneath the surface, their dark nipples pebbling in the cool air.
She began to lather her skin with the jasmine soap, the scent wafted through her nostrils, creating a calm atmosphere.
Her fingers drifted downward, tracing the curve of her waist and the dips of her hips, before dipping between my thighs.
She hadn't meant to go that deep, but the first touch was like an electric spark trailing down her body.
She was a bit reluctant, but her body had already responded to her own touch.
Her breath hitched as her fingertips brushed against the slick, swollen folds of her sex, already damp with anticipation, the heat of the bath only serving to stoke the fire within her.
Her lips parted, and she closed her eyes as her fingers began to explore earnestly.
"Ohhh," she shuddered, her head dipping back.
The water rippled around her, the gentle lapping sounds mingling with the wet, obscene noises of her own touch.
She parted her legs wider, the movement sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between her thighs, her clit throbbing with every beat of her heart.
"Ugh."
Her lips trembled as she struggled to suppress her moans; her body was slick with steam, and rivulets of water streaked down her skin.
Her fingers circled the sensitive nub, teasing, tormenting, before dipping lower, slipping inside her aching cunt with a slow, deliberate thrust.
"Harris." she hissed, her back arching as she added a second finger, then a third, stretching herself, filling the emptiness that had gnawed at her for far too long.
The water sloshed around her, the sound of her fingers pumping in and out of her heat a lewd symphony that filled the chamber.
Her free hand found her breast, her fingers pinching her sensitive nipple, the sharp bite of pain sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.
She twisted the sensitive peak, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she imagined a lover's mouth there instead, grazing, tongue flicking, lips sealing around the taut bud to suckle her deep.
"Oh, ohhh, ugh."
The heat of the passion seized her.
Her fingers curled inside her folds, stroking that sweet, secret place that made her toes curl and her vision blur.
Never had she felt so good in a long time.
For a while she had chosen to deny herself, to deny her body the desire it so craved.
Her garden had bloomed out of control, and even in the lonely confinement of her chamber, she had felt her body yearn to be submitted under a touch.
But today, she had given in, and now water churned around her body, splashing over the edge of the tub as she fucked herself with abandon, her moans growing louder, more desperate.
She could feel her pinnacle building, a tight, coiling tension deep in her belly. Her clit swollen and aching, her core clenching around her fingers as if begging for more.
"Aaa-h," she moaned, her voice a guttural growl as she added a fourth finger, stretching herself to the brink of pain, the burn only serving to heighten the pleasure.
Her thumb found her clit once more, rubbing in tight, relentless circles, the pressure building, building-
"Oh, gods-!" Her back arched off the tub, body trembling as the first wave of her climax crashed over her, her core pulsing around her fingers, her juices mixing with the bathwater as she squirted.
The scent of her arousal was thick and intoxicating in the steam-filled air.
Her chest heaved, rising and falling, her hips jerking, breath coming in short, sharp gasps as pleasure wracked her body, her fingers never stilling, never easing, drawing out every last shuddering aftershock.
With a low, satisfied sigh, she withdrew her fingers from her throbbing heat as she pushed herself further into the tub.
She remained still in the tub, allowing the rising steam to soothe her nerves, her eyes closing once more, the silence doing well to coax her body, and for the first time in what had seemed like forever, she felt like a woman again.