Arthur lay sprawled on the tangled sheets, his body a map of bruises and bite marks, sweat cooling on his skin. The room still throbbed with the aftershocks of what had just happened—Urzara's wild laughter, the scent of orc and sex, the ache in his muscles that reminded him he was, for now, only human.
The door opened with a sharp crack. Isolde stood in the threshold, her presence a blade of cold steel. Her eyes swept the room, taking in Arthur's naked, marked body, the rumpled bed, the fading heat in the air. Her jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists at her sides.
Urzara, still catching her breath, met Isolde's gaze with a smirk. "Come to see if your king still has strength, Queen?"
Isolde's voice was ice. "Out. All of you. Now."
