The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 40: Learn to Pretend

The afternoon sun streamed through the open balcony doors of Zuko’s chambers, casting long golden shafts across the polished obsidian floors. Katara stood near the bed, her fingers nervously tracing the embroidered hem of her crimson Fire Nation dress. She had just returned from the brig of Zuko’s ship, where Sokka, still imprisoned aboard Zuko’s ship, had cracked jokes with the guards about “Fire Nation hospitality” while secretly passing her a folded scrap of parchment hidden in a bread roll. The message burned in her pocket, unread.

Zuko sat at his desk on the balcony, his back to her, scribbling notes onto a scroll. The breeze ruffled his hair, still damp from earlier bath. Without turning, he spoke.

“You told him the delay is necessary?”

Katara stiffened. “Yes. He… didn’t seem surprised.”

“Sokka’s sarcasm is a survival tactic. As long as he’s alive to wield it, he’ll endure.” Zuko’s quill paused. “You, on the other hand, look like you’ve swallowed a live eel.”

Katara glared at his back. “Why are you being like this? Sokka’s joking with the guards. The crew treats him like… like a guest. And Aang, what’s this deal you mentioned? What are you planning?”

Zuko set down his quill. The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.

Then…

Crunch.

A faint creak echoed from the hallway. Zuko’s head snapped up, his nostrils flaring as if scenting smoke. In one fluid motion, he surged to his feet and lunged across the room, his boots silent against the stone. Katara barely had time to gasp before he flung open the door and vanished into the corridor.

She followed, peering out to see him stalking down the hall, his gaze sharp as a hawk’s. Servants scattered like leaves in his wake, bowing and murmuring apologies. Zuko paused, scanning the shadows, then turned back with a scowl.

“Paranoia suits you,” Katara muttered as he reentered the room.

Zuko shut the door with a soft click. “You think this is paranoia?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Every word you speak here is heard. Every move, watched. My father’s spies don’t take breaks.”

Katara crossed her arms. “Then why bring me here? Why not just…”

Zuko’s hands shot out, gripping her shoulders. She stumbled back, her spine hitting the wall as he crowded into her space. His breath warmed her cheek, his golden eyes blazing.

“When you have questions like that,” he hissed, his lips brushing her ear, “whisper.”

Katara’s heart hammered. His scent of smoke and salt and something sharp, like citrus, flooded her senses. She opened her mouth to protest, but his left hand slid from her shoulder to her chest, his palm pressing against the soft curve of her breast.

She froze.

“Stand still,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Katara’s face burned. His fingers tightened slightly, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of her dress. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think…

The door swung open.

Mai stood in the threshold, her expression as lifeless as a porcelain mask. Her black-and-crimson robes clung to her slender frame, her dark eyes flicking between Zuko’s hand on Katara’s chest and his face.

“Did my sister send you to spy on me?” Zuko asked, not loosening his grip.

Mai tilted her head. “Would I admit it if she did?”

Katara’s breath hitched. Zuko’s thumb brushed lazily over her collarbone, his gaze never leaving Mai.

“You’ve always had terrible timing,” he said.

Mai’s lips twitched. “And you’ve always had terrible taste.”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Zuko released Katara, stepping back with a smirk.

“Tell Azula her games are transparent. If she wants secrets, she’ll have to work harder.”

Mai’s eyes narrowed, but she turned on her heel and vanished.

Katara sagged against the wall, her legs trembling. “What… what was that?”

Zuko poured himself a cup of tea, his demeanor calm as if nothing had happened. “A reminder. In this palace, every touch, every word, is a weapon. Even yours.”

“You, you used me. To provoke her? To send a message?”

Zuko sipped his tea. “You agreed to play your part, Katara. Or did you think ‘servant’ meant folding my laundry?”

She stared at him, her voice shaking. “You’re worse than Azula.”

He set down the cup, his smile brittle. “No. I’m better. And if you want your brother and the Avatar to live, you’ll learn the difference.”

“I can’t believe you, you just touched me wih no warning,” she hissed, her voice shaking. “Like I’m some… some toy for your stupid games!”

Zuko didn’t look up from the scroll. He was busy with before. “I hate repeating myself but like I just said. You agreed to play a role. This is part of it.”

“This wasn’t part of the deal!” She stormed forward, her fists clenched. “You don’t get to just, just grab me whenever it suits you! You said you wouldn’t rape me!”

Finally, he met her gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Would you prefer I ask permission first? ‘Princess Katara, may I fondle you for the sake of our charade?’”

Her face flushed crimson. “Don’t mock me!”

“I’m not.” He stood, circling her like a predator. “But let’s be clear, every servant, every guard, every spy in this palace expects me to treat you exactly as I did. A prince doesn’t keep a peasant girl in his chambers for her conversation.”

Katara backed up, but he closed the distance, his voice dropping. “And let’s not pretend you’re shocked. You knew what this would entail when you bargained for your brother’s life.”

“I didn’t know you’d be so… so disgusting and straightforward!”

Zuko’s smirk widened. “Disgusting? Or inexperienced?”

She froze. “W-what?”

He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear. “That was your first time, wasn’t it? Being touched like that by anyone.”

Katara’s heart raced. “That’s none of your business!”

“Oh, but it is.” His hand brushed her waist, and she jerked away. “If you can’t handle a little teasing, how will you survive what comes next?”

“What comes next? Stop talking in riddles!”

Zuko sighed, feigning boredom. “You think the Fire Lord’s spies care about subtlety? They need a show. And unless you want your brother’s cell ‘mysteriously’ catching fire tonight, you’ll stop squawking like a startled turtleduck and learn to perform.”

Katara’s voice trembled with rage. “Perform? You want me to… to pretend I enjoy this?!”

“Enjoy?” Zuko barked a laugh. “No one cares what you feel. They care what they see.” He stepped closer again, his gaze piercing. “But if it bothers you so much, here’s a lesson: next time I touch you, touch me back.”

Her eyes widened. “What?!”

“Grab my arm. Smile. Whisper something cruel in my ear.” His fingers trailed up her sleeve, deliberate and slow. “Make them believe you’re here willingly. That you’re mine.”

Katara slapped his hand away. “I’d rather kiss a viper!”

Zuko’s smile turned feral. “Careful. Vipers bite.”

Before she could retort, he gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You think I want this? You think I enjoy babysitting a waterbender who can’t tell a lie without blushing?” His thumb brushed her lip, his voice softening mockingly. “Well actually I do prefer doing this with you but there are much more important things going on, so here we are. So either play the game, or watch your brother and the Avatar burn.”

Katara wrenched free, her chest heaving. “You’re a monster.”

“No,” Zuko said coldly, turning back to his desk. “I’m the only thing standing between you and the real monsters.”

She stood there, trembling, until he added without looking up:

“Oh, and Katara? Try practicing in the mirror. Your outrage is… unconvincing.”

[A/N: Can’t wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on .com/saiyanprincenovels.]