This was the problem with "Royal Command." It worked on intent. If I could obey, I had to.
My body began to ripple. The carefully sculpted cheekbones I wore started to soften. My eyes, usually dark brown, turned a translucent, glowing blue.
"No," I gritted out. I focused every ounce of my willpower, fighting the System's command with my own corporate stubbornness. I grabbed the edges of the chaise, my fingers digging into the fabric.
Override. Override. I am the CEO of this body. You do not authorize a merger without my signature.
I spent 200 Mana in a second, burning it to reinforce my disguise. My face solidified. The blue glow faded.
Isabella frowned. She sensed the struggle. She sensed the power I just burned.
"You resisted," she said, sounding impressed. "No one resists a Royal Command. Not even the High Priest."
She reached behind her back.
I expected her to pull out a whip, or maybe a scroll.
Instead, she pulled out a dagger. It was small, encrusted with rubies, and very sharp.
"Let's try a different test," she said.
Before I could react, she drove the dagger down.
She didn't aim for my heart. She aimed for my shoulder—the same one Malakor had damaged earlier. She wasn't trying to kill me; she was trying to get a reaction. She wanted a flinch. She wanted a scream.
Thunk.
The blade sank into my shoulder.
There was no scream. There was no crunch of bone.
There was just a wet, suction sound. Squelch.
I looked down. The dagger was buried to the hilt in my expensive coat. But there was no blood. No red stain spreading across the fabric.
Instead, the area around the blade turned into a thick, blue jelly. The dagger wiggled loosely, suspended in the viscous fluid of my body.
Isabella let go of the handle. She stared at it.
"Oops," I said.
My disguise faltered locally. The skin around the wound dissolved, revealing the truth: I wasn't a man. I was a construct of sentient, high-density mana slime in a suit.
Isabella didn't scream. She didn't call the guards.
She laughed.
She leaned in, her eyes wide with fascination, and poked the blue goo oozing around the knife.
"I knew it," she whispered, grinning like a child who just found out Santa Claus is real and also a dragon. "You aren't human at all. You're a monster."
"I prefer 'differently animated'," I said dryly, watching my blue slime slowly push the dagger back out of my body. "And if you tell the Church, I'll be executed. And then who will balance the Empire's budget?"
Isabella grabbed my face with both hands. Her nails dug into my cheeks, but this time, I let the skin ripple like water under her touch.
"Tell them?" she scoffed. "Arthur, I've been praying for a monster for years. Do you have any idea how dull it is to rule a kingdom of sheep? I don't want to expose you."
She leaned in and kissed me.
It was a weird sensation. I didn't breathe, so I didn't need to come up for air. I just sat there, a slime creature in a Duke suit, being made out with by the most powerful woman in the world, while a dagger fell out of my shoulder and clattered onto the floor.
She pulled back, breathless.
"We're going to have so much fun," she said, her eyes gleaming. "I'll keep your secret. And you... you will be my weapon against the Church."
"I charge consulting fees," I managed to say.
"Deal."
She opened her mouth to say something else, probably another terrifying proposition, when the floor beneath us jumped.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.