Chapter 41: The Lesson
The afternoon sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of Zuko's chambers, casting fractured light over the tension thickening between them. Katara stood rigid by the bed, her arms crossed like armor, while Zuko leaned against the balcony door, his gaze dissecting her.
He had finished with whatever he was scribbling on those scrolls. Lieutenant Jee had come to the room and picked up the scrolls. He didn't even greet Katara which worsened her mood. She was still fuming with the way he had acted so boldly with her.
"You're terrible at this," he said flatly.
"At what?" she snapped.
"Lying." He pushed off the door, prowling closer. "Last night, you clung to me like a lifeline. Tonight, you'll have to do it again. And next time, there won't be a wall to hide behind."
Katara's cheeks burned. "I was scared with your deranged sister and her venomous eyes. I didn't realize…"
"You didn't realize what?" Zuko interrupted, stopping inches from her. "That snuggling into the arms of the Fire Prince sends a message? That every gasp, every shiver, is a performance here?"
She glared up at him. "You're enjoying this."
"I'm surviving it," he corrected, his voice low. "And so will you. Now…" He reached for her wrist, but she jerked back.
"Don't touch me."
Zuko's eyes narrowed. "We talked about this Katata. Every spy in this palace is waiting for me to slip, to show a shred of doubt. And your stiffness?" He gestured to her rigid posture. "It's a liability."
Katara's voice trembled. "You want me to… to pretend I like this. I just not that type of girl."
"It doesn't matter. I want you to convince them that you are." His hand hovered near her cheek, not quite touching. "You think I don't see you flinch? Hear your breath catch? They'll exploit that weakness. And when they do, it will not be me but your brother who dies first. I will make damn sure of it if you ruin my plans. I am playing the long game here. This… is only the start. If anyone gets in the way of those plans, I will be forced to use nastier tactics." He warned.
She swallowed hard. "What do I do?"
Zuko's fingers brushed her jawline, light as a threat. "Stop fighting me. Lean in. Make them believe you chose this."
Katara froze, his touch burning. "And if I can't?"
His thumb traced the curve of her lip, a mockery of tenderness. "Then Sokka dies knowing you failed him."
Zuko stepped back, crossing his arms. "Now… from the beginning."
Katara inhaled sharply. "What?"
"You need to get better at this so a brief lesson. This after noon you entered the room. I'm at the desk. You're supposed to be my servant." His tone hardened. "Act like it."
Katara clenched her fists, then forced her shoulders to relax. She approached him, her steps hesitant.
"Slower," Zuko ordered, not looking up from his scroll. "You're not marching to your execution."
She halted beside him, her voice taut. "What… do you need, Prince Zuko?"
He glanced up, unimpressed. "Warmer. Try again."
Katara bit back a retort, bending slightly toward him. "How may I serve you, my prince?"
Zuko's hand shot out, gripping her waist and pulling her onto his lap. She stifled a yelp as his arm locked around her.
"Better," he murmured, his breath against her ear. "Now smile. Like you're plotting my downfall."
Katara's lips curled into a snarl.
"Not like that." His fingers brushed her cheek, forcing her face toward his. "Like you want me."
"I'd rather kiss a komodo rhino," she hissed.
Zuko's smirk was lethal. "Then pretend it's the rhino."
She glared, but his thumb stroked her jaw, a cruel parody of affection. "There. Now whisper something treasonous in my ear. Make it convincing."
Katara leaned in, her lips grazing his ear. "I hope Azula fries you alive."
Zuko's grip tightened, but his laugh was smooth, audible. "Good. But louder next time. The guards have terrible hearing."
When he finally released her, Katara stumbled back, her chest heaving. "Are we done?"
"No." Zuko rose, circling her. "You still flinch. You still hesitate."
"Maybe I don't want to be your puppet!"
"You don't have to want it," he snapped. "You have to sell it. Or have you forgotten what's at stake?"
Katara's voice broke. "I'm trying…"
"Try harder." He closed the distance, his hand cupping the back of her neck. "They're watching. Always watching. So show them devotion. Show them fear. But never let them see you."
His fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her face up. "Now. Kiss me."
Katara froze. "What?"
"You heard me." His gaze was ice. "If someone walked in right now, what would they see? A prince toying with his pet? Or a girl seconds from driving a dagger into his heart?"
Her eyes flicked to the door. "They'll see hate."
"Then make it look like passion." His thumb brushed her lip. "Or I'll make you regret finding out the difference."
Katara hesitated, then pressed her lips to his, quick and venomous.
Zuko pulled back, unimpressed. "Pathetic."
Before she could react, he kissed her properly, slow, deliberate, a performance of control. Katara's fists clenched against his chest, but she didn't pull away.
When he broke it, her breath was ragged.
"Just like that," he said coldly. "Now they'll believe you're mine."
The air in the chamber hung thick with tension, the scent of smoke and salt lingering as Katara stood rigid, her fists clenched at her sides. Zuko circled her like a predator, his golden eyes sharp.
"You're still stiff," he said flatly. "If someone walks in, they'll see a hostage, not a lover. Again. We won't stop this until you can convince even me."
Katara glared. "This isn't exactly natural for me you know?"
"Natural?" Zuko scoffed. "Survival is natural. It's within all of us. Now, " He once again closed the distance, his hand brushing her waist. She flinched, and he clicked his tongue. "Stop recoiling. You're supposed to want this."
"I hate you," she hissed.
"You are not the first." His fingers trailed up her arm, deliberate and slow. "This is my second chance, there is too much at stake. I cannot risk you messing it up Katara so find it within yourself. If you mess this up, your brother and the Avatar die screaming in agony. So act."
Katara swallowed hard, forcing herself to still as his palm settled against her hip.
"Again," Zuko ordered, stepping back. "Walk to me. Like you mean it."
Katara inhaled sharply, her pulse roaring in her ears. She took a step forward, her hand trembling as she reached for his chest.
"No." He caught her wrist. "You're not a soldier. Seduce me."
"I don't know how!"
"Then learn." His voice softened, almost mocking. "You're a quick study, Katara. Use that waterbender focus of yours. Channel it into this."
She hesitated, then let her fingers brush his collarbone, trailing down to the scarred hollow of his throat. His breath hitched, a flicker of surprise she almost missed.
"Better," he murmured. "Now closer."
She stepped into him, her body inches from his. His hand slid to her lower back, pressing her against him. Katara stiffened.
"Relax," he ordered. "You're not a statue. You're mine."
Her nails dug into his shoulders, but she forced her body to mold against his.
"Good." His thumb grazed the curve of her breast over her dress, and she jerked. "Breathe. Remember what I said when we went to see Aang. They'll believe it if you do."
"This is insane," she whispered.
"This is survival." His grip tightened. "Again."
By the fifth attempt, Katara's hands no longer shook. She looped her arms around Zuko's neck, her lips parting in a practiced smile. His palm cupped her breast, his thumb circling slowly.
"Don't… don't overdo it," she muttered through clenched teeth.
"You're thinking too much," he said, his voice low. "Focus on the lie."
She exhaled sharply, leaning into his touch. His other hand slid to her waist, then lower, squeezing her buttock. Katara bit back a gasp, her cheeks flushing.
"There," Zuko murmured, a flicker of approval in his tone. "Now for the last test, kiss me. Like you mean it."
Her lips met his, hesitant at first, then deeper, fueled by frustration and fear. His hands roamed her body, possessive and calculated, and she matched him, her fingers tangling in his hair.
When they broke apart, Zuko's smirk was razor-thin. "Better. You almost convinced me."
Katara scowled. "Don't push it."
A slow clap echoed from the doorway.
"Well," Fire Lord Ozai drawled, his voice dripping with icy amusement. "It seems my son has finally learned to prioritize the nation's interests."
Zuko stepped back smoothly, his arm still draped around Katara's waist. "Father."
Ozai's gaze raked over Katara. "A… creative solution to the Water Tribe problem, Prince Zuko. Though I trust you'll remember your duties extend beyond your chambers."
Zuko bowed stiffly. "Of course."
Ozai's smile didn't reach his eyes. "See that you do. Anyway meet me in the gardens. I think it's about time you and I had a private conversation."
As the Fire Lord swept away, Katara's knees buckled. Zuko caught her elbow, his grip firm.
"Breathe," he muttered. "You survived."
"He approved," she whispered, horrified.
Zuko's jaw tightened. "Approval is poison here. Remember that." Though his mind was focused on another issue altogether. "Why the fuck does no body knock in this goddamn place!?"
[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]