Under the Mountain was a miserable place and the people here were even more miserable. Everyone wore a facade and everyone pretended to worship Amarantha so as not to lose their lives.

But not you.

You were human and although Amarantha hated your species, she didn't seem to hate you. You were even sure that she liked you, at least a little.

Thanks to this, you were spared her torture, her cruelty. And all you had to do was entertain her. Maybe you were her whore, but you didn't really care.

Part of you adored her.

Amarantha smiled at you, a cold smile but there was a warmth in it. You were sitting on her lap while the party was going on. Her hands rested on your thighs and you could feel them penetrating the fabric that covered her body.

Amarantha drank her wine and gestured for another servant to bring more. You watched the fear, the dread on the fae's face as he approached her. There was also hate. If he could, he would have torn her to pieces right then and there.

"They're all the same, aren't they?" She said to you, her nails marking the soft skin of your thighs. It was painful but you didn't care.