"Operation: Divine Seduction," I announced, standing atop the velvet-draped roundtable like a heretical ringmaster addressing my very confused circus. The members of the Velvet Court blinked up at me, eyes full of confusion, curiosity, and one deeply inappropriate amount of admiration.
Salem had warned me not to go too far. But with him off exploring the hidden chamber and reorganizing the stash of secrets we'd extracted from the Church, I felt wonderfully unsupervised. Dangerous, even. My favorite state of being.
"You're going to do what?" Lysaria asked, one delicately arched brow rising higher than any eyebrow should dare.
"Infiltrate the Church, undercover cover style this time" I said sweetly, twirling a silver fork like a blade between my fingers. "With Hollow reinstated and collared at my side, I shall work my way up the ranks, gain their trust, seduce the righteous, and plant seeds of corruption like an unholy gardener with a thigh gap."
Rodrick leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes flicking to Elian for support, but Elian just looked intrigued. "You want to become the next High Priest? That position has been sealed off for months after his recent assassination."
It was true, and was the main reason why Cardinal Iareth had been the one to oversee my short-lived trial. Apparently, the old geezer had mustered up a shit tons of enemies in his rein of power and corruption, resulting in his swift execution mostly likely as a result of some city-wide financial dispute. Go figure.
"The Council's still dithering over which uptight sycophant to place in charge next."
I grinned, arms outstretched. "And why not me?"
The silence was palpable.
"Because you're a heretic, possibly a war criminal, and definitely slept with at least one of their scribes," Lysaria muttered.
"Only once," I corrected. "And she initiated it."
Aurel, who'd been quietly polishing his twin daggers by the fireplace, finally spoke. "So your plan is to... seduce your way to the top of the Church hierarchy?"
"Oh, it gets better," I said, hopping down from the table. My cloak flared behind me like the final act in a cabaret. "I recently discovered a little something new about my evolving gifts."
Elian perked up. "New power?"
He remembered the voice that came to him as he was drinking himself to sleep last night.
New Skill Acquired: Divine Femmeform
You have unlocked the ability to temporarily assume a flawlessly seductive femboy form. While transformed, your charm and allure skyrocket—granting enhanced persuasion, disarming hostility, and rendering most divine spells ineffective. Enemies suffer cognitive dissonance and increased susceptibility to manipulation.
I gave them my most dazzling smile. "I can temporarily transform into a femboy version of myself."
The room went still.
Aurel dropped his dagger.
Lysaria choked on his tea.
"It's true," I said, voice low and reverent. "A complete transformation. Body, voice, aura. The magic wrapped around me like sin in silk. I am a celestial vision with thighs to kill for."
Rodrick groaned. "We are so going to hell."
"We were going there anyway," I reminded him. "Might as well get good seats."
The laughter broke the tension, and even Lysaria allowed himself a sigh. The plan was half-mad, wholly dangerous, and undeniably mine.
Later that night I found myself in quite the situation. The idea, of course, wasn't mine.
For once.
I had merely walked into the Velvet Court's common lounge in full femmeform—hips swaying in a black satin mini-skirt, thigh-highs gripped with dark garters and two black bows, a soft blouse barely buttoned and heart-meltingly sheer—fully intending to gloat and bask in their stunned reactions.
What I got instead was a coordinated ambush.
"Elian," I said warily, my voice now of a higher pitch, eyeing the wineglass he offered. "Why are you already half-naked and smiling like that?"
"For morale," he said, pressing the glass into my hand. "We thought it best to… rehearse. You'll be seducing some of the most powerful men in the Church, after all. Best we ensure you're fully prepared."
Jules perched on the edge of the table, running a finger along the curve of my exposed shoulder. "You're our best weapon. We wouldn't want you going in under-trained."
Ash said nothing, but his gaze was already burning low and hot. Rodrick crossed his arms but made no move to leave. Miko, whom I have't been giving much attention to as of late, remained impossibly soft in his oversized sweater, hiding a blush behind his sleeves but kept stealing glances at my thighs. Even Lysaria—ever composed—looked like a cat preparing to pounce.
I blinked. "You're serious?"
"Of course," Lysaria said smoothly. "Would we joke about seducing clergymen?"
"Yes," I deadpanned.
"Yes, but not like this," Jules chimed in. "We're doing this for the mission. For strategy. For the greater good."
"You're seducing me for practice?"
"For research," Elian corrected, plucking the wineglass from my hand and setting it aside. "Hands-on experience."
Rodrick stepped closer. "Unless you're scared."
"I fear nothing," I said. But my cutesy voice cracked a little when Ash pressed a hand to the small of my back and leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear.
"Then prove it."
The couch caught me as I was gently backed onto it, a dozen teasing fingers helping me down. My arms splayed lazily across the cushions, one leg draped high and utterly obscene, and I gave them my most theatrical sigh.
"Fine," I said. "Use me. For your noble research."
They didn't need to be told twice.
Jules was the first to climb into my lap, straddling me with practiced ease. He toyed with the ribbons on my blouse, undoing them with a grin. "You look like sin in heels," he whispered, dragging his nails down my chest. "No one's going to survive you."
"You think?" I asked, breath hitching when he leaned in and bit the curve of my neck.
"I know."
Ash knelt beside me, his hand sliding up my thigh with a slow, deliberate pressure that made my breath falter. "Every step you take in this form is a weapon," he said, voice low. "But even weapons need sharpening."
Miko crept behind the couch, brushing my hair to the side, lips ghosting over the back of my ear. "I missed this," he murmured. "You."
"I'm right here," I whispered, head falling back into his touch.
Elian climbed over the back of the couch, his hand slipping into mine as he straddled my legs. "Do you feel powerful like this?" he asked. "Or… does it make you feel vulnerable?"
"Both," I admitted. "Terrifyingly so."
Rodrick hadn't moved yet. I caught his eye over Elian's shoulder, daring him silently.
He gave in.
He always did.
He crouched by my feet, rough hands pulling my heels off gently. Then he pressed a kiss to my ankle—slow, reverent. "You pretend to be in control," he said. "But not tonight."
I opened my mouth to argue—but Lysaria silenced me.
With a kiss.
He leaned over the arm of the couch, fingers gripping my chin, and kissed me like I was something to be devoured. The room spun as our lips moved in sync, as if all the fights, the flirtation, the smirks had been leading to this singular moment.
"Still think you're the one doing the seducing?" he whispered, eyes glinting.
I let out a soft whimper under their oppression.
Elian kissed down my chest, dragging his tongue along my collarbone. Jules bit my ear, as playful as ever. Miko curled his hands in my hair. Ash's lips pressed to my inner thigh. Rodrick was biting marks into my ankle now. And Lysaria—Lysaria pulled my blouse completely open and just stared, as if worshipping the vision before him.
"You're trembling," Jules murmured.
"Shut up," I breathed.
They took turns. They touched, teased, and seduced me into slumber.
The next morning, drenched in lipstick stains, I set the plan into motion. I had left Hollow a note days in advance instructing him to meet me in the cathedral's main garden.
I snuck through the shadows and we met without notice, Hollow's face slightly blushing at the sight of my new transformation. With Hollow trailing dutifully behind me, collared and dolled up in ceremonial robes of chastity that clung a bit too tight in the hips, I approached the main sanctum.
The guards paused, but the seal I bore was enough. A divine sigil gifted during our previous break in. They let me in without a word.
Inside, golden light poured through stained glass, casting rainbow hues across the polished floor. The air smelled of incense and arrogance.
Perfect.
A bishop greeted me, robes trailing like fog. "You must be...uh-um," he stuttered over his words.
I curtsied. "Callie sir. Here to assist in the choosing of our next holy icon."
He looked me up and down, paused at my bare collarbone, then nodded slowly. "...This way."
I stifled a giggle. Gods, it looks like their influence was working on me already.
By noon, I was seated at the side of the cathedral's main altar, sipping consecrated wine and listening to clergy bicker about the succession, it seemed to be all they ever talked about. Hollow sat beside me, eyes blank, playing his part to perfection. Occasionally, he would look at me and blush like a virgin acolyte.
The bait was set.
One of the cardinals leaned over. "You seem well-versed in theology."
"Oh, you could tell? Well, you could say I'm well-versed in a lot of things," I said, crossing my legs just slowly enough.
He coughed. Hard.
Step one was complete. Seduction was underway. The next few days would be a holy haze of ceremonies, politics, and behind-the-scenes debauchery. Just the way I liked it.
And when I finally stood atop the dais dressed in gold-trimmed lace, preaching to a sea of glassy-eyed believers, they would've never guessed the truth.
Their next High Priest would be a heretic.
A rebel.
And the world's most dangerous femboy.