Nights of the Debutant: The Grand Imperial Prince 2.5: Ch 2 (Rough Draft) (Patreon)

Hey folks, sorry for the wait, had some [add] episodes and some technical difficulties, had to reset my pc, [still locked out of my external drive lol] lucky i back up in more than one place. Thanks for waiting, and now that my PC is not crawling along like a sleepy toddler, I should be able to get some work done. (paperbacks for void 2 and 3 will be up once I get the author's revision copy and approve it)

Sincerely and thank you,

page magus

Chapter 2: Croquet and Conquest

The croquet lawns of the Imperial Pleasure Palace were too green to be real, their obscene splendor a product of naked, trembling hands. At dawn, the conscripted gardeners worked blade by blade, their devotion written in the velvet smoothness underfoot, every inch manicured to emerald perfection.

The grass rolled from the western palace steps, a lush expanse set upon the imperial pleasure island. Mothers conversed as they kept an eye on their readying daughters from gilded pavilions and tents set to shade their porcelain skin from the rays of the sun. Overhead, gold-banded clouds drifted gossiping and eager to find out who would win the Grand Prince's favor on the lawns below.

Jason waited in the shade while three imperial valets attacked him with combs, lint rollers, and steaming cloths. Sarah stood a step behind, her braid immaculate, eyes fixed on his every move, every breath. She adjusted his collar with quick, sure fingers, her lips parting as she smoothed the gold embroidery against his neck. “Your Imperial Highness, you are perfection,” she murmured, voice trembling with pride.

“I always am, with you at my side,” Jason said, letting his hand brush the curve of Sarah’s ass through the tight black dress. She shivered but didn’t dare move.

Debutantes in jewel-bright silks clustered at the edge of the green, their laughter joyful and excited. The mothers perched in their pavilions, eyes hawk-bright, measuring every inch of Jason’s body, every flick of his gaze, seeking any advantage they might find for their daughters.

Jason strode onto the croquet lawns, the radiance of the afternoon sun slicing across the emerald grass and catching on every gold thread of his tailored jacket.

“Grand Prince! Oh, Your Majesty, we feared you’d been stolen away by morning delights,” giggled Lady Sylvara, her honey-gold hair bouncing as she skipped toward him. “Or perhaps you were simply biding your time to make us all ache for your attention?”

Jason smirked, letting his gaze sweep over the assembled beauties. “Why would I ever deny myself the pleasure of such radiant company?” He let the words roll off his tongue, savoring the way they shivered in response. “You’re all eager to play. Shall I join you?”

A chorus of “yes, please,” and “oh, please, Grand Prince,” exploded from the crowd.

Lady Zahra’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling in playful challenge. Lady Tatiana Drakov crossed her arms, muscles flexing under the silver of her dress, but her gaze never left his.

Lady Elys smiled. This would be a game of tact and cunning joy. “Would you honor us by choosing your mallet color first, imperial majesty?”

Jason’s gaze raked the mallets, each one lacquered to a decadent shine, colors so saturated they bled into the senses. Crimson, sapphire, obsidian, gold. He reached for the gold, of course, the shaft smooth and warm in his grip, its weight a promise of conquest. “Gold for the Grand Prince,” he said, letting the words settle over the lawn.

The debutantes shivered, their silks rustling in pleasure at his choice. “Then I shall wield green, my prince,” Lady Elys added, “To match the emerald of Thal’Drenath.”

Lady Zahra’s hand hovered, then closed around the black mallet, “Obsidian,” she said, “For the patience of stone, and the darkness that waits under desert’s sky.”

Tatiana snorted, grabbing the silver mallet, her slender biceps flexing under the gauze of her sleeve. “Silver for steel, Grand Prince. I prefer the honesty of a weapon.” She swung the mallet in a lazy arc, amused in knowing this gentle game would not be where she won, as the muscles in her forearm corded in delicate precision.

Lady Sylvara bounced on her heels, honey-gold hair flashing, her giggle a ripple of silk. “I’ll take pink! It’s so… juicy.” She clutched the pink mallet to her chest, rubbing her cheek along the polished wood, her eyes never leaving Jason’s. "Isn't it pretty, my holy master? I find the harder it is, the juicier it becomes."

He laughed, the image too perfect as she held the mallet close. “You’ll have to win a round first, Lady Sylvara,” he murmured, letting his gaze drop to the valley between her breasts, the soft rise and fall promising all kinds of egger trouble.

The rest jumped to claim their color, each varying shade a complement to the soft fabric that delighted against their skin. Formality of hospitality observed in letting the daughters of the foreign dignitaries choose first, the game was ready.

“I will go last; Lady Elys, you have the opening shot,” Jason said, moving to the side to let Elys start the game. If I don’t take charge, we could be here all day trying to figure out who would go first. They really are all so beautiful. Jason let the debutantes crowd him, each eager to be as near as possible without downright mobbing him.

Elys went to the baulk line with her emerald ball in hand. She set her ball, fingers lingering, then rose and met his gaze, emerald eyes shining with mischief and sacred hunger.

“My lord, in Thal’Drenath, we believe the first move sets the rhythm for all that follows.” Her voice twined around him, soft, reverent, daring. “May my stroke… please you.”

Jason grinned, letting the heat of her words settle in his chest. “I expect nothing less, Lady Elys. Show me how your people strike.”

She swung, fluid, precise, sending the emerald ball cleanly through the first hoop. The click of wood meeting wood was sharp, a heartbeat of tension. “Ahh, perfect form,” he said, savoring the way her cheeks flushed at his praise. “Do all Thal’Drenath women play with such devotion?”

Elys held the mallet to her chest, lips parted in a breathless smile. “Only when the prize is worthy, my prince.”

Lady Zahra Sahladir stepped forward, obsidian mallet gleaming. Her midnight hair spilled down her back, a river of shadow. “In my homeland, patience is a blade, but sometimes, one must strike quickly… before the sun sets.” She murmured, voice low, deliciously dangerous.

She lined up her shot, knuckles white on the grip, then tapped her ball with a measured flick. It curved around the hoop, barely grazing the edge, then rolled through. Zahra’s lips curled in a slow, secret smile. “Precision, your majesty, is everything.”

Lady Tatiana Drakov wasted no time, striding up with her silver mallet like she’d storm a battlefield. “Enough talk, let’s see some action.” She slammed her ball, a streak of violence and grace, sending it through two hoops and nearly colliding with Zahra’s. “If you want to win, hit hard and don’t hesitate.”

Jason laughed, letting the sound roll over the lawn. “A woman after my own heart. Tell me, Lady Tatiana, are you always so… forceful?”

She grinned, teeth flashing, a predator’s delight. “Only when I see something I want, Grand Prince. And right now, I want to see what you bring to this battlefield of grass.”

He grinned, the sunlight hot and white on his teeth. “You want to see what I bring, Lady Tatiana? I warn you, I play to win. Even when the prize is… a little less than innocent.”

A ripple of laughter, sharp and hungry. The air smelled of crushed grass and perfume, sweat and sugar. Lady Sylvara practically vibrated with eagerness, her pink mallet clutched to her chest. She bounced forward, skirts swishing as she set her ball with exaggerated care.

“Oh, oh, my turn! Grand Prince, it’s my turn? I feel so exposed in front of all these… experienced ladies.” She pouted, her wide sapphire eyes shimmering. “But if I make a mistake, will you punish me?”

He cocked a brow, letting his gaze linger on her hips. “That depends, Lady Sylvara. Are you hoping for discipline or mercy?”

She giggled, a little moan threaded through. “Both, holy master. But mostly discipline. I want to be very, very good for you.” She arched her back, wiggling her ass as she took her shot. The pink ball zipped through the first hoop and straight into Lady Zahra’s, perfectly lined for the next. She squealed, spinning to face him. “Did you see? Did you see? I’m already making friends!”

Jason laughed, the sound rolling out over the lawn. “You’re a menace, Lady Sylvara. But keep that up, and you’ll have every heart, and every ball… in your grasp.”

She blushed furiously, fanning her face. “Oh, my prince, if only I could have more of you in my grasp…”

“Oh, you’ll get your chance, Lady Sylvara,” Jason said, letting his voice dip low and promising. The way her cheeks flared pink told him everything. He could practically taste the sugar on her skin, the way she’d melt for him if he just gave the word.

He looked up, eyebrow cocked. “Lady Celestia, you’re next. Show them how it’s done.”

Celestia’s hands trembled on the blue mallet, sapphire silk clinging to her arms, so delicate it threatened to slip from her shoulders with every breath. “I—I thank you, my holy master. I only hope my play is… satisfactory.”

She bent over her ball, hair tumbling in a silver curtain. Jason’s gaze followed the line of her spine, the subtle shiver down her back. She looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading, and oh, she wanted to be praised, wanted to be seen. She wanted to be owned.

Her shot was careful, almost reverent, the blue ball rolling forward in a perfect line, clicking through the first hoop with a sound so clean it could have been a prayer. Celestia gasped, stunned, then turned to him, lips parted. “Did I… did I do well?”

Jason let his smile sharpen. “You did perfectly. I knew you would.”

She flushed, hands clutching the mallet, body trembling with the need to please. “I… I live to serve you, my lord. All I am is yours.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with promise. Jason felt it, the heat in her, a bonfire behind a veil of moonlight. He let her bask in the praise, savoring the way her eyes glazed with hunger.

Lady Valeska was next, her gown a storm of sapphire and silver, every inch of her sculpted to be admired. She moved with the poise of a queen, but her eyes, those blue mirrors, were hungry, desperate for his attention.

“Gold is the color of conquest, my prince,” she said, her voice low, rippling with tension, “but sapphire is the color of loyalty. The West has always served the empire.” She let her gaze linger, a challenge. “And I intend to serve you better than any who came before.”

She took her shot, the blue ball arcing with predatory precision, knocking Celestia’s clean out of the way and through the next hoop. She turned, lips curling in triumph. “I hope you appreciate a woman who knows how to eliminate the competition.”

Jason grinned, letting the thrill of it roll through him. “I appreciate a woman who knows what she wants. Tell me, Lady Valeska, is there anything you wouldn’t surrender for me?”

She bared her throat, every inch of her body a declaration. “Nothing, Grand Prince. My house, my lands, my will. All of it, yours. If you want the gems of the Sapphire Coast, the fortunes of the West, you have only to command it.”

Fuck, they didn’t make them subtle here. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said, eyes lingering on the hollow of her throat, the way it fluttered when she breathed.

Next to her, Lysandra Elenia Tharn Lirandor wore green and gold, her gown shimmering in the sun. She looked softer, more reserved, but her smile was sly, her eyes bright with secrets. “In the Verdant West, we believe power is best grown… slowly. Cultivated. Fed with patience and care. Alchemy can never be rushed.” She set her ball, fingers lingering, nails painted the color of spring grass. “That’s why our harvests are the richest and most exotic in the empire. We make things last.”

Her tap was gentle, elegant, the ball rolling slow and steady, slipping through the hoop with a lazy confidence that made the others stare. Lysandra turned, offering Jason a coy smile. “Sometimes, a gentle touch yields the sweetest fruit, your majesty.”

He laughed, the sound bursting out of him. “You’re not wrong, Lady Lysandra. I look forward to seeing what you can grow… with the right encouragement.”

She dipped her head. “With your guidance, my prince, I could make the whole empire bloom.” Her words were a breath, a promise, and Jason filed them away. The Verdant West, the breadbasket and alchemy supplier of the empire, already knelt at his feet.

Lady Seraphina Valis Aeltharn strode forward, the navy and silver of her dress clinging to the hard lines of her body. She moved like a predator, all muscle and cold calculation. “I’m not much for these games, Grand Prince,” she said, voice flat, gray eyes locked on his. “But I respect a contest of skill.”

Her mallet cracked against the ball, a shot so clean it made the others gasp. The ball shot forward, smashing into Zahra’s and sending both balls flying. “On the sea, only strength matters. And loyalty.” She looked up, face unreadable. “If you want to command the west coast and all the power of the Aeltharn fleet, you need someone who doesn’t flinch from the hard choices.”

Jason let his gaze drift over her, the lines of her jaw, the whipcord strength of her arms. “And you, Lady Seraphina? Would you obey orders, no matter how hard?”

She didn’t blink. “Without hesitation, Grand Prince. I was raised to serve. But I prefer a master who knows how to take control.”

Oh, she was a challenge. He liked that. “I never leave room for doubt,” he said, voice low. “You’ll find I’m very… thorough.”

A flicker of interest in her eyes, the faintest flush at her throat. “Then I look forward to being tested, my lord.”

Lady Calista Althea Varynthal approached, her gown a living emerald, every curve of her body shaped to seduce. She didn’t speak at first, just let her eyes do the work, deep green and velvet, watching him as if memorizing every inch of his skin.

She set her ball, careful, patient, then took her shot. The ball rolled, unhurried, bumping gently into Elys’s perfect placement for the next move. She turned, finally speaking. “In House Varynthal, we’re taught to wait. To observe. To be patient until the moment is right.” She smiled, slowly, a secret behind her lips. “And then we strike, and we never let go.”

Jason let the words hang between them, watching the way her chest rose and fell, the way her fingers curled around the mallet. “You don’t strike me as someone who lets anything slip away, Lady Calista.”

She shivered, just a little. “I don’t. Once I have you, my prince, I’ll never let go.”

He let his grin widen, the heat of her promise sinking into his bones. “I look forward to being caught.”

The other girls tittered, the sound a shiver of silk and hunger. Next was Lady Madeline Na’thar, tall and lean, her hair a dark flame. She grinned at him, all energy and wildness, no pretense.

“Up north, we don’t stand on ceremony,” she said, voice bright, almost a challenge to the joy of the day. “We hunt, we fight, we win. And we play to win.” She set her ball, muscles flexing, then swung with a power that sent the ball skittering through two hoops at once.

She pumped her fist, spinning to face him, cheeks flushed. “See? Told you. Sometimes, you just have to go for it.”

Jason laughed, letting her energy infect him. “Impressive, Lady Madeline. Are you always this bold?”

She shrugged, grinning. “Only when it matters. I want to prove myself, Grand Prince. I want you to see me.”

He stepped closer, voice soft but edged. “I see you. You’re impossible to miss.”

She nearly vibrated with excitement, the need to please him written across every inch of her. “If you ever want to go hunting, my prince… I’ll show you what I can do.”

“Careful, Lady Madeline,” he teased, “I might take you up on that. I’m always interested in new… prey.”

Her laugh was wild, untamed. “Then I’ll be waiting.”

The last to step forward was Princess Maelira, a vision in silver and midnight blue, her hair a spill of velvet along her back. She moved with a dancer’s grace, every motion calculated, but her eyes were sharp, measuring.

“Your Imperial Highness,” she said, “my family’s holdings on the Sapphire Coast have always been loyal to the throne. But we have more to offer than just trade. We have knowledge, secrets, old magic.” She let the words curl around him, promising more.

She lined up her shot, a slow breath, then sent her ball forward in a perfect arc, slipping through the hoop as if it belonged there. She straightened, meeting his gaze without flinching. “A good move is about more than strength,” she said. “It’s about knowing where to press, when to yield, and when to take what you want.”

Jason felt the weight of her words, the way her eyes burned for him. “And what is it you want, Princess Maelira?”

She didn’t hesitate, “I want to see the empire thrive, Grand Prince. To be a jewel of your court, my family’s islands are the gateways to the Five Tides and the old trade routes through the Thalvoryn Strait and Thalaryn deep to the oceans beyond. All the secrets of the sea, the treasures of the drowned cities, the magic sleeping beneath the waves… Our tides bring wealth, our nights bring wonder, and all could be yours. If you choose the right partner.” Her lips curled, the promise sharp as a hook. “I want to be that partner, your majesty. I want you to want us.”

Jason let the words roll over him, the taste of ambition and salt and ancient secrets. Fuck, they really didn’t hold back here. Even the princesses were sharks. He grinned, letting the sunlight warm the moment. “An ocean jewel fit for a grand prince, let's see how the tides of fate ebb and flow upon the green this day.”

Princess Maelira smiled and blushed as Jason lined up his shot. The mallet fit his hand perfectly, gold and heavy, the promise of power in every ounce. He set his ball, muscles bunching under the tailored jacket. He swung, the crack of impact slicing through the air, the gold ball streaking across the green and through the first hoop in one clean, perfect shot.

The debutantes gasped, some clapping, others biting their lips in anticipation. “Grand Prince!” Sylvara squealed, bouncing on her toes. “You made it look so easy! Are you always this… skilled with your hands?”

He caught her gaze, letting it linger. “Only when the stakes are worth it, Lady Sylvara. And I do believe the stakes are very, very high today.”

She giggled, nearly dropping her mallet, eyes shining with delight. “Oh, you’re going to make me faint if you keep talking like that.”

From somewhere behind him, Lady Zahra’s voice cut through, low and velvet. “A careful strike, Grand Prince. But the game is long, and patience always wins in the end.”

He turned, catching the glint in her onyx eyes. “You think you can outlast me, Lady Zahra?”

She smiled, lips barely parting. “I know I can. My people survived a thousand years of desert storms. We endure, always.”

Jason wanted to laugh, but something in her gaze made him pause. She was serious, and beneath the silk and shadow, she wanted him to know it. Damn, she was good. He nodded, giving her that, and moved aside to let the next round begin.

The game rolled on, the croquet balls clicking and spinning. Debutantes darted and swayed, skirts flashing, laughter bubbling across the lawn. Lady Tatiana and Madeline competed to see who could hit harder. Every time one of them swung, the crack of wood echoed, and the balls flew across the grass, scattering the careful order of the game.

“Going to break something, you two,” Jason called, watching Tatiana’s arms flex as she lined up another shot.

She grinned, not looking at him. “That’s the point, isn’t it? If you want to win, you have to take risks.”

Madeline let out a wild whoop, “Up north, we don’t believe in playing it safe, Grand Prince.”

They played in teams, they played solo, they played for the thrill of being seen, and every round was a new battlefield, a new excuse for laughter, for flirtation, for the slow dance of dominance and surrender.

Elys played to win, but every shot was a prayer, every glance a plea for attention. “Your majesty, in Thal’Drenath, we believe every contest is sacred,” she said, pausing to line up her shot. “Every victory, an offering. Every loss, a lesson. But I confess… I only wish to lose myself in your gaze.” She struck true, the emerald ball skipping through two hoops at once. “Will you accept this humble devotion, Grand Prince?”

Jason arched an eyebrow. “A private devotion, Lady Elys?”

Her cheeks flushed, but she met his gaze, unwavering. “If it pleases you, Grand Prince. I would show you how we honor victory.” She trembled, her delight obvious, then took her shot, sending her emerald ball sliding through a narrow gap that made the other girls gasp. “For you, my lord, I would move mountains.”

Holy hell, they don’t hold back. He almost wanted to ask if they practiced these lines in front of their mirrors. Maybe they did; their deliveries were always exceptional. But damn if it wasn’t fun.

Tatiana prowled the green, all muscle and intent, her silver mallet an extension of her will. “You call that a shot?” she barked at Lady Sylvara, who had just missed by a finger’s width. “You’re not going to win his favor with wobbly wrists.”

Sylvara pouted, wiggling her hips. “Maybe not, but I bet I can win his favor with other talents. Right, my prince?” She bent over, the pink silk clinging to her ass, and took another shot. The ball zipped forward, slamming into Tatiana’s, knocking it off course. “Oops! Did I do that?”

Tatiana just grinned, the challenge in her eyes burning bright.

The game moved fast, balls flying, mallets swinging, the air alive with the scent of grass, sweat, flowers, and barely suppressed desire. Every debutante fought for his attention, but not just with their bodies—with their minds, their words, their promises.

Lady Calista was all patience, every move measured, her eyes never leaving Jason. She let the others fight and bluster, then slipped her ball into perfect position, always just a breath ahead.

“In House Varynthal, we prefer to let the strong tire themselves out,” she murmured, close enough for only him to hear. “Then, when the moment is right, we strike. Quietly. Completely.”

He leaned in, just enough to let her feel his breath. “And how would you strike, Lady Calista?”

She shivered. “With everything I have, Grand Prince.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said, letting the words hang.

Lysandra smiled, her touch feather-light as she lined up her shot. “In the alchemy gardens of the West, we tend everything with patience. The rarest blossoms, the most potent potions, all require time and the right… environment.” Her ball rolled slowly, deliberate, slipping through the hoop like it belonged there. “I’d like to be the one to cultivate your reign, my prince. To help you grow into something no one’s ever seen before.”

Jason blinked. That was… actually kind of sweet? And hot, in a quiet, weird way. “You think I need nurturing, Lady Lysandra?”

She smiled, gaze sly. “All rare things do. Especially when they’re destined for greatness.”

He grinned, feeling that one settle deep. “Then nurture away, Lady Lysandra.”

Celestia was pure nerves and devotion, but every time she shot, her hands steadied, her focus narrowing to a razor’s edge. “I—I hope to show you the strength of House Loryn, my lord,” she whispered, blue eyes wide and shining. “Our lands are rich in mana gems, and the enchanting academies there are the finest in the empire. If you wish it, I—I’ll bring you every secret, every artifact, every ounce of power.” Her shot was perfect, the blue ball gliding through the hoop and stopping dead, poised for the next move.

He let his praise wash over her, watching the way her body responded, every muscle trembling with need. “You’re doing perfectly, Lady Celestia. I expect nothing less from the best mind in the empire.”

She nearly melted, her breath coming fast. “I—I live to please you, my holy master. There is nothing I wouldn’t do.”

Madeline was pure energy, bouncing on her toes, her voice bright as she boasted about the Frostvein wilds north of Thullnathar Gate, the great northern city and seat of her father’s dukedom. “The north is all mountains and snow and wild things, Grand Prince. The people there are tough, loyal, and stubborn as hell. If you want soldiers, if you want hunters, if you want the best, you come to us.” She took her shot, the ball zipping through two hoops, then collided with another, sending both spinning. “I want you to remember me, my prince. I want to make you proud.”

He stepped closer, letting her feel the focus of his gaze. “I’m not likely to forget you, Lady Madeline. You’re a force of nature.”

She grinned, wild and free. “Then take me hunting, my lord. I’ll show you what real passion looks like.”

Jason moved among them, letting their voices wash over him, their bodies brush against his as they lined up shots or conspired to block each other. It was chaos, it was beautiful, and for the first time since waking up in this insane world, he felt… at home. At ease. Fuck, maybe this was who he was supposed to be, the center of a storm of ambition and silk and lust.

He let himself lean into it, teasing, goading, rewarding.

“Careful, Lady Zahra, you’re about to lose your lead.”

She didn’t look up from her shot. “I never lose, Grand Prince. I just let others believe they’ve won.”

He smirked. “Big talk.”

Her lips parted, a slow, deliberate breath. “Try me.”

Next to him, Celestia hovered, desperate for his approval. “My lord, am I… am I doing well? I want you to be proud.”

He reached out, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “You’re perfect, Lady Celestia. Never doubt it.”

She trembled, her breath catching. “I live for your praise, my prince. I’d do anything to earn it.”

He wanted to kiss her, right there, but let the moment hang, the promise lingering.

Sylvara pounced, her ball bouncing off three others in a single shot. “Oh! Did you see? Did you see? I’m so clever, Grand Prince!”

He clapped, making a show of it. “You’re a menace, Lady Sylvara. Remind me to keep you close at all times.”

She giggled, eyes shining. “I’d be your shadow, always.”

Tatiana and Madeline turned the lawn into a battlefield, each one determined to outdo the other. Balls ricocheted, skirts tangled, and at one point, Tatiana nearly tackled Madeline in her rush to line up a shot.

“Is this croquet or war?” Jason called, laughing as Madeline pinched Tatiana’s butt when she spun out of the way.

Tatiana’s yelp split the afternoon. "Careful, Lady Madeline," Tatiana growled, "teasing like that might force me to make you crawl the green on your knees."

Madeline smiled, leaning on her mallet. "Lady Tatiana, you offer such sweet promises." She flicked her hair behind her shoulder, grinning straight at Jason, the wildness in her eyes a dare and a promise. "I think the Grand Prince prefers his prey lively when subduing; with any luck, we both might end up on our knees."

Tatiana’s smile was inches from Madeline’s, “Mmm, such sweet lips pray pretty words of prayer for the subjugation of prey worthy of hunting…” Tatiana bit her lower lip as they gazed into each other’s eyes, finding equals in spirit within the other.

Jason wanted to laugh, wanted to pin them both to the grass and see who begged first, but damn, he had to at least pretend to be the civilized one here. Keep it together, Jason, because hell if you don’t, no one here for sure as fuck will. "You’re both going to start a hunt if you’re not careful, and that’s not scheduled for a few days," he said.

Sylvara darted between them, her laugh a squeal of delight. "Oh, oh, it’s my turn!" She bent low, nearly flashing the whole lawn, her ass wriggling under the pink silk. "Grand Prince, will you watch me? I want you to see every… little… move." She took her shot, the pink ball bouncing off another, then skidding sideways right to the edge of the pond at the far end of the green.

"Oops!" She spun, eyes huge. "Did I send it too far? Grand Prince, do I get another try? Or should I be… punished?" She bit her lip, eyes wide and wet.

Jason grinned, voice dropping. "That’s definitely a penalty, Lady Sylvara. But if you beg prettily, I might let you off easy."

She quivered, delighted, then shot him a sly, sideways look. "What if I want it hard, my prince?" The other girls snickered; even Zahra’s lips twitched as she rolled her eyes.

"Then you’ll get it hard," Jason promised, moving to set his own ball, the gold gleaming in his palm. He lined up the shot. He swung, not thinking, keeping a clear head, around all of the debutants, which took most of his will. But he would not give in, he would not succumb… The gold ball cracked forward, spun across the green, and rocketed straight into the pond.

Shit, well at least I hit the ball…

Silence… For a second, nobody moved. Sylvara screamed, clapping her hands to her cheeks, her eyes bright with glee. "Grand Prince! You sent your ball into the water! Does that mean we all have to follow?"

He wanted to say something clever, but he was too busy laughing. "Only if you dare," Jason sighed out, already knowing he’d lost control of this pack of wild debutants. The game was about to get very wet and muddy.

One by one, each of the debutants rocketed their balls into the pond.

The air exploded with squeals, laughter, and a wild volley of color as debutantes abandoned all pretense of dignity and sent their croquet balls hurtling for the water. Pink, emerald, obsidian, sapphire, and silver, creating a rainbow of ambition arcing through the sun, every shot more gleeful than the last.

The air split with a chorus of shrieks and laughter, silk and sapphire and gold ribbons flashing as a dozen girls sprinted for the water’s edge. Skirts hiked, slippers kicked off, the whole pack of them tumbled down the velvet slope, croquet mallets abandoned in a heap. The pond, placid and smug, waited with open arms.

Sylvara got there first, of course, squealing at the top of her lungs as she plunged up to her knees in the muck. “Grand Prince, Grand Prince, it’s so cold! I think… I think something touched my ankle!” She spun, flinging droplets everywhere, her hair a wild halo of honey, her eyes wide with faux terror. “Save me, please, or I’ll get dragged under by the pond monsters!”

Jason shook his head, laughing as he waded into the water, boots sinking into mud that squelched and sucked at his calves.

The surface regality shattered into joyful chaos as a rainbow of silk and skin splashed, in a tidal wave of shrieks and laughter. The water churned with mud, and each debutant desperately plunged into the muck to find their ball and Jason's.

Tatiana and Madeline wrestled, each with the other’s ball in their hand. Their dresses were totally forgotten as the silk peeled from their bodies as they slid over the other.

Balls of opposing color came up in the debutant's hands as each tried to claim their captured color. Jason stood in the water, letting the spectacle unfold, waiting for his ball to be claimed in the impromptu mud wrestling match.

Jason lay back on the grass, covered in mud, as the debutants joined him. Only four of the balls had been retrieved, some having been tossed back into the now very murky pond as the rest of the debutants all lay out along the grass next to him.

A shadow cast itself over Jason, and he opened his eyes to find Sarah and four very clean, very proper imperial princesses standing over him. “Princess Arabella, Amina, Armella, Katerina, and my faithful Rúnaí Sarah,” he said, “to what do I owe this ambush of beauty?”

Princess Arabella’s laugh was a chime of crystal. She gazed down at him sprawled in the grass, mud soaking his gold jacket, utterly unrepentant. “We came to see if the croquet match was going… as planned?” The question in her voice was echoed in the looks of all four princesses.

Amina’s lips parted, the tip of her tongue flicking out, a kitten tasting cream. “Or perhaps it’s a test of who can get you the dirtiest?”

Armella knelt beside him, skirts pristine, her scent a storm of lilies and sugar. She reached out, tracing a finger through the mud on his chest, her touch feather-light, reverent. “Should we help you clean up, Grand Prince? Or would you rather savor the memory of conquest a little longer?”

“Oh, I think it is time to clean up and prepare for the evening feast,” Jason declared, rolling to a seated position. “And it was a delight to spend the afternoon with all of you. Truly, you’ve made the croquet lawns a battlefield worthy of legend.”

Sylvara, still dripping pond water, let out a squeal of delight. “I’ll never wash this mud from my dress, Grand Prince! It’s a treasure now, a memory of you…”

He grinned as Tatiana and Madeline wrestled upright, mud streaked across their arms and faces, dresses torn at the seams, hair wild with the aftermath of their contest. Tatiana bared her teeth in a wolf’s grin, “If you want a real clean-up, Grand Prince, I’ll toss you back in the pond and scrub you myself.”

“Or we could all just get naked and save the servants the trouble,” Madeline shot back, voice bright and wild. She arched her back, breasts straining against the torn bodice, eyes locked on his.

“Tempting offer,” Jason said, rolling his shoulders and letting the silk of his ruined jacket slide lower, exposing the hard cut of muscle beneath. “But I need a bath and moments reprieve before the festivities of the evening.”

Seeing the game and afternoon entertainments were over, even Sylvara’s demeanor changed, becoming once more the proper and cunning noble lady of the Thull empire. “As you command, Grand Prince, we long to see you rested for our evening feats.” her play full tone was still happy, full of joy, but reserved once more submission to her imperial prince.

Jason raised his hand, and Sarah helped him to his feet. “Ladies, it was a delight, and I look forward to the evening. Lady Celestia and Lady Elys, you shall sit next to me this evening.”

Elys’s eyes shone, twin lanterns of emerald worship. Celestia’s breath shuddered, her hands knotting in her skirts, body thrumming with the need for approval. Every debutante locked onto Jason, their longing painting the air thick as honey.

“Thank you, Grand Prince,” Celestia breathed, her voice a tremor of gratitude and awe. “It is… an honor beyond all dreams.”

Elys dipped her head, lashes sweeping shadows across blushing cheeks. “Your will is our joy, my lord. We live to serve your pleasure.”

Jason let the words settle, watching them squirm beneath the weight of his favor. “You’ve both earned it.” He turned to the princesses, “Now who’s going to get dirty first…” he raised his hand.

“Oh no, nope-nope-nope.” Each princess squealed as Jason chased the princes back into the imperial pleasure palace.