by Eve Bradley
“You will be rewarded as I promised you. Either of my daughters is yours. You may choose whenever it suits you,” the Sultan said, tone hard with respect. “You shall be my son.”
“Well, I actually...” Glend fluttered through a fit of inability to express himself, and then pulled back the shirt from his shoulder blade, showing the binding mark to the entire gathering. “I’m hers.”
Darrian heard a hush in the room and knew that this had impressed Catryn because she wasn’t looking at him in an irritated gaze or glare.
“Ah...I see,” the Sultan smacked his lips. “Well, Sasha and Setora will be unhappy to hear this. But the Peacequeen is more important. I’m glad to see that the gods found you an appropriate match.”
“They almost didn’t,” Glend laughed loudly, and then cleared his throat. “I mean, I didn’t know what would happen. But alas, here I stand — a man bound to a woman. I do thank you, Sultan Hajj. It’s been most pleasant doing your bidding all these years. I’m sure you understand that I now belong to her. She’s a needy Queen...if I can be so open as to say so,” he chuckled.
The Sultan raised his brows and seemed indifferent to what Glend was saying. But it made Darrian wonder, how had the Sultan accrued Glend’s loyalty in the first place? And Glend had originated in the Rose Hills...hadn’t he? How’d a small pretty boy from a Catharsan settlement found himself in Yamar, a kingdom hidden in the sand?
“Save your stories for my daughters,” the Sultan uttered. “They’ll enjoy them more, frankly.”
“I can do that!”
Without another word, Majmal bowed before Catryn. Darrian noticed that he had gold-lined eyes. The thin man stepped lightly and began to lead them away from the sulking Sultan and keen onlookers.
“General Kalif,” Catryn called over her shoulder. “I wish to speak with you when you have a chance.”
Kalif lowered his head, sharp chin nearly meeting the bronze peaks of his chest. This was his consent.
Catryn followed Majmal’s bald head and trail of purple robes out of the giant hall. Darrian, Glend, and Valryn walked side by side, watching her from behind. When they were in the quiet of the smaller passages with the whispering curtains, they all let out irritated sighs.
“I think he was happy to see me,” Glend said.
Valryn laughed.
“You think? Seemed like he was in a ‘piss on the world’ sort of mood,” he rounded.
“Oh no,” Glend reassured them. “This was one of his good days. If he was in a bad mood, we’d all know it.”
The thin eunuch hid a smile behind his purple sleeve.
Catryn glanced back with an airy smirk on her face, dark red hair bouncing as she whipped around.
“Did you fuck him too, Glend?”
Glend’s brows furrowed.
“What? After all this time...you think I’d? Him?” he pressed out his hands as if he were innocent, and then when Catryn gave him a look that sported his incentive, he cracked one of his mischievous grins. “Yes, yes. Of course. You know me. Always fucking kings to get where I wanted to go in life. Damn. Now I have no secrets. I’ve lost my air of mystery...I feel almost...what’s the word? Vulnerable.”
“Good,” Catryn’s lips grooved as if she were battling away her satisfaction. “I like you better this way.”
Darrian came to stand beside Catryn at the window. He brought her a goblet of wine and reached out for her. She deflected his advance but took the wine. He didn’t know what he’d done but was worried he’d offended her somehow. He wanted to speak to her about the letter his father had sent entailed, but it was hard for him to find the words. He’d never been suave when it came to real conversation. Even Valryn had more grace when speaking.
“I uh,” he began awkwardly. “I think we need to reassess Kalif. We don’t know any of these people. All we have is the promise that they’ve waited centuries for you. We should be careful who we trust.”
“Mm,” she nodded, taking a sip and looking at him full in the face. “You seem different lately. Quieter.”
“So do you,” he shrugged, biting his cheek. “Did the desert give you time to contemplate the fact that you’re stuck with us?”
Catryn smiled and laid a palm out on his chest.
“I’ve been stuck with men my entire life. But those men I had to please. This is different. I don’t feel like I owe you anything,” she explained quietly as not to intrigue Valryn and Glend, who were mumbling to each other on the pillows.
“I hope you don’t ever feel that way,” Darrian said, staring down into the depths of her dark willow brown eyes.
“Don’t worry about that. I won’t. I’ve been fucking for money since I was fourteen. I know how to detach,” she smirked. Her eyes were haunting, and something about the way she said this concerned him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, attempting to be serious.
“Listen to me, Cat,” he spoke quietly. “Don’t shut us out. I can sense your fears. You think we’ll fuck you over like every other man in your life. I can’t speak for them...but I’m not going to do that to you.”
Catryn raised her brows, and with a small surge of Faerus, he was forced a few inches away from her. It was a reminder. She was in control.
“Darrian...” she leaned forward as if she was going to kiss him. “I will never be fully yours. I’m never going to let myself love any of you...you have to know that.”
Darrian looked down, sighed, and then looked up at her again, eyes keen and bright. He couldn’t imagine what she’d been through. She was drawn to each of them because of the bond, but also because of the inherent attraction. Still, attraction and lust were one thing. Now love? He smirked.
“Fighting love are we?” he said.
She rolled her eyes and patted his cheek.
“If only...” she exhaled. “But no. I’m a twisted bitch. I don’t think I could love any of you if I tried. Care...yes. I care for you all deeply. But I’ll never commit myself enough for you to hurt me.”
“Yeah?” Darrian challenged, chest puffing out in amusement as he crossed his arms. “We’ll see. I’ve been told women fall in love with me quite easily.”
“Because of your careless nature?” she laughed. “Weak women seem to love the bastards, don’t they?”
“I’m hurt Cat,” Darrian laid a hand on his heart. “You’ve let me fuck your ass. You think I’m a careless bastard?”
Catryn turned away, wholly coy and mischievous. She looked back through a veil of wavy red hair, a hint of a smile on her luscious pink lips. It killed Darrian, and the look alone was enough to stagger him. Maybe he was a weak bastard. He wanted her so badly and felt his cock pulsate in his linen pants. This style did not give much shielding if he got excited.
“What, I can’t give in to lust? I like pleasure,” she whispered.
Darrian was frustrated by her inability to be close to him. She’d enticed him so sweetly before, but it was as if she’d taken ten steps back. He didn’t know what to ask her or how to help her relax and let her guard down. He wanted to whisk her away somewhere alone where he could speak to her about everything that was on his mind.
Darrian inhaled the fresh scent of the night and tried to exhale the mounting desire in his pelvis. They would have to leave soon for the banquet. He wouldn’t be the only one leaving the room with flames of passion building in his body.
He leaned forward and caressed her neck and ran his hand nearly over her breast. He saw her breath coming quickly when he did this and smiled.
“You know where to get pleasure when you want it...don’t you?”
She nodded, lips cracking a bit as she stared up into his eyes.
“Remember that.”
Catryn
Jurdu Palace, Yamar
The skies swirled with stars and creamy pink and green galaxies. Catryn peered up at the eons above her, the chaos of the celebratory ambiance ripping her away from her fascination with the stars.
They decorated th
e giant pergola structure with lights and swaying fabrics, everything blazing, airy, and packed with exotic men and women.
The men walked behind her as if they were her handmaids. But they stayed close for so many reasons. Protection. Devotion. Desire to watch her figure. She knew this and had dressed in a luxurious silk red slip dress. There was an open space in the silk over one leg, and she enjoyed imagining the men fawning over her.
As they walked through the masses towards the Sultan’s table, eyes were upon her. Men and women whispered or spoke loudly about her. She tried to keep her face free of emotion. Stone cold. Part of her was worried another Djinn would make its way out of a random person. If they could take over people’s bodies through possession, they could never know where they were. She would have to keep a keen eye.
“Like what you see?” Kalif came to walk beside her, black hair shiny and swooped back to expose his thick black brows and dark russet skin. “It’s all for you.”
“It’s enjoyable to look at...” she glanced at him and watched his khol-lined eyes linger on the thick glittering bracelets on her wrists. “The Sultan is comfortable in his wealth. It’s almost like there isn’t an impressive threat rising up around him.”
Kalif shrugged as he sauntered beside her.
“This is our life. If he shows them that something is wrong, how long do you think before mass uproar begins? Before everything he’s created crumbles? You out of anyone must know that it’s your choices in the thick of disaster that make or break the future. It’s a delicate balance. The Sultan is no fool.”
Catryn listened curiously, the tease of Kalif’s accent clipping his words. She’d noticed that most everyone knew the common language, but that most times, they spoke in their native tongue. People danced in between aisles, and there were women with sheer face coverings. Men and women both wore chains of gold drawn from piercing to piercing in their flesh. Kalif wore a small gold chain earring on his left ear that hooked through the upper cartilage and then through his lobe.
“Oh, he doesn’t seem like a fool...” she smirked. “He’s just like every other man. Arrogant. But arrogance is only placed there at the forefront of their persona. It’s a shield to hide the weakness that hides within every man.”
“You think our Sultan weak? You think your Guardians weak? You think me weak?” Kalif named off, nearly offended but speaking with an even tone.
“I think what makes men weak is that they are not willing to explore their weakness. Women...they explore everything they hate about themselves. They aren’t afraid to do the dirty work to strengthen themselves. And, as I’ve seen it...you only become stronger when you realize and accept your weaknesses, General.”
“Yes? You seem to have the opinions of a queen now. These methods of wisdom...you’ve practiced them yourself?”
Catryn glanced up at Kalif’s dark eyes and found that suddenly he’d abandoned his harsh exterior, and what laid beyond was something warm and stormy. It was in the lowered brows, the way they expressed curiosity and dominance, and it hit her like a hailstorm. Unexpectedly.
“I would never advise someone of something if the gods didn’t approve,” she reacted as if he were almost insulting, but this was her personal opinion of men. When she felt around in her mind she could feel the god's truths. Both men and women had their strengths and weaknesses. Facing them did indeed bring growth.
Kalif bowed his head and said nothing more. But his thick arm brushed against hers as they walked. She felt Valryn physically bristle at this brief connection and Darrian’s burn of jealousy. She couldn’t feel much from Glend aside from his instability. Something was causing his nerves to flare up, and she wanted to know what it was.
The Sultan sat at the back of the giant pergola feast on a tall gilt chair. His robes were ornate, flowing with delicate designs. Rings glittered on every finger, bracelets nearly up to his forearms. He gave her a smoky gaze across the expanse, and she bowed her head. Beside him sat two extremely sexualized identical women. Their hair stuck off their heads in fountains of ink black, and they wore angular lines of makeup that caused their almond eyes to look nearly feline.
Their eyes lit up when they saw Glend, and suddenly his heart was thundering, and Catryn could sense his awkwardness.
“So, I should warn you...” Glend whispered in her ear from behind. “They sort of love me.”
Catryn looked down and smiled.
“How surprising.”
As they approached the table, Valryn went in front of them and introduced her.
“Your Peacequeen. Catryn Islenes, protector of innocents.”
The masses applauded, and a servant drew out a chair for her.
“Glend! My rose love...oh!” The women shot up from beside their father and went to wrap themselves around Glend. His arms were pressed out in front of him, but they smothered him, clinging to his chest and neck like leeches.
“Good serpent above us, how you’ve changed...so sleek and manly....” one purred in his ear.
Catryn tried not to grin, but the bubbling of her amusement came full force. She whisked past Glend, offering him no help. She gave the Sultan a quaint curtsy, and both Darrian and Valryn bowed at her sides. She could hear Glend’s buzzing thoughts as he tried to untangle himself from the women.
“Leave us already...?” one whispered, shreds of sexual need making her tone whiny.
These girls would be Sasha and Setora, the Sultan’s daughters. Their outfits uplifted their breasts and held their bodies in perfect alignment for pleasing silhouette’s. The gathering chuckled in a unanimous warmth, and although she was smiling, she still found it nearly disrespectful that these princesses would maul Glend when he was hers. They should know it after the display Glend had made earlier. Still, it was evident that they couldn't care less for Catryn’s rank or relationship with him. Small flickers of impatience and irritation gathered in her sternum.
“We’ll talk later,” Glend said as he nearly kicked the other off of his leg.
Catryn honed in on Valryn and could smell the fragrance of disapproval. She placed the slightest of glances on him, noticing the sly glare of his eyes. He caught hers, and she saw the side of his mouth rise a minuscule amount.
“He did warn us?” Catryn teased, but instantly felt her stomach sour.
She didn’t know what she felt. She just wanted to speak with the Sultan about the situation at hand. This was more important than fickle flirtations and social nuances. She liked them all looking at her, but she was becoming impatient. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Majmal, the Sultan’s preferred mage. His bald head shone in the light as he tilted forward in a respectful bow. She gave him a wry smile and then turned her eyes to the Sultan.
Cat sensed Darrian and Valryn’s hesitance in such a strange place. Valryn especially. She’d not had much time to speak with him and thought that she should consult him on a few things before they went forward with whatever magic Majmal was keen to try on her.
“The Peacequeen,” the Sultan rose, arms outstretched. “We welcome you, and with the same abundant heart with which we welcome you, we offer these gifts...”
Two impressively built men came forward bearing a giant chest of gold. They placed it before her and pried it wide, revealing a delicious center of jewels beyond anything she could have imagined. Her heart stirred with primal greed. There were rubies that looked practically juicy in the torchlight. Chains of gold and platinum laid in coils and tangles like snakes. She took a deep breath, hoping that her face betrayed nothing that was occurring within her.
Life had never been simple. It had always been dirty, filled with scarcity, challenge, blood, sweat, and starvation. When the King of Malavash had offered her gifts before, she’d been impressed, but none of it felt real. It was as if she’d been stuck in a state of disbelief, never truly believing she was Peacequeen, or that her powers would ever arrive. Here and now, in the hot desert night, she felt as if she’d been drinking before her lips had even tasted th
e wine. The jewels acted as an intoxicant. Hadn’t the gods known that she’d be the greediest bitch ever to live? She wanted it all. Why would they choose her if that’s what she was?
Glend’s smooth arm skimmed hers gently. The comfort of these men around her kept her from collapsing. The servants took it away, most likely to her chambers. When they’d gone, they were replaced by two more bearing trunks of beautiful clothing and ornamented shoes. It went on like this for a while, and her jaw grew slack.
“My Sultan...” she uttered.
Valryn gripped her arm, warning her to stay silent and simply thank him. She nearly snapped at him for berating her with such a firm grip, but she knew he was correct. She had to maintain her composure.
Lastly, a group of at least ten men and women arrived, heads slung low. They bore the faces and mannerisms of slaves, a hunch to their shoulders, scars along their backs, and hollow eyes. Not only this, but they were white-skinned, perhaps from Catharsa.
“Send them to my rooms...make sure they’re cared for,” she ordered Valryn.
“I’m not leaving you. Not here. Ask Glend,” he hissed through his teeth.
“Glend,” she whispered.
“Nope,” he ignored her, staring straight at the Sultan.
Catryn stepped forward and fixed her eyes upon one middle-aged woman. The woman didn’t dare look up at her, but if only she knew that Catryn had not been better than her. She was the same as her still.
“Darling...your name?”
The woman’s chest rose with quick breaths.
“Dinah.” The voice was thin on the robust night air.
“Dinah,” Catryn addressed her. “Take everyone to my chambers. The guards will guide you. I want you specifically to be sure that everyone is fed and dressed appropriately. Tell anyone who questions you that the Peacequeen gave you the power to ask for anything you need. If they challenge you, please tell me.”
