by Kelly Hunter
‘You mean the courtesans?’
‘So you do know something about them.’
‘I know they existed centuries ago. They were kept in our round room. Like pets.’ Moriana paused, and Augustus waited for her to put Theo’s comment about him having a pet together with his question and come up with a clue, but she didn’t. ‘There are some costumes in the collection here that were reputedly worn by them.’ Moriana was warming to her theme. ‘Gorgeous things. I wouldn’t call them gowns exactly—more like adventurous bedwear. The leather one came with a collection of whips.’
‘Whips.’ No guesses needed as to how some of those courtesans of old acquired their exalted levels of influence. Augustus put two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes, a habit he’d picked up from his secretary, or maybe the old man had picked it up from him. ‘So what else do you know about them? Anything from this day and age?’
‘These days they’re the stuff of legend. There’s a children’s book in the nursery about them, assuming it’s still there. Seven-year-old girl, clever and pretty, gets ripped from the arms of her unloving family and taken to a palace in the sky to learn how to dance and fight and be a spy. Then she meets a King from the Lower Reaches and spies for him and he falls in love with her and they live happily ever after. Ignore the bit where she poisons his barren wife. You should never believe everything you read.’
‘Does this book have a name?’
‘The King’s Assassin. It was one of my favourites. Why?’
No one had ever read it to him. ‘I currently have the Lady Sera Boreas, daughter of Yuna, Order of the Kite, staying in the round room. She arrived last week, as a gift from the people of the High Reaches.’
Silence from Moriana the Red, whose temper, once roused, was also the stuff of legend, and then, ‘Say that again?’
‘There is a courtesan here in the palace and at my service. Yesterday, six truckloads of priceless antiquities turned up. They belong to the Order of the Kite and can only be seen when a courtesan is in residence here. Now do I have your attention?’
‘Did you say priceless antiquities?’
‘Focus, Moriana. There is a pet concubine in the round room. No—did you just squeal? Don’t squeal. Invite her to stay with you. Keep her. Show her the whips. No! Don’t show her the whips. I take that back. But find out what she’s doing here. Can you do that?’
‘Does she have books?’ his sister asked. ‘I bet she has history books with her as well. Do you know what this means?’
It probably meant Moriana was about to try and organise an exhibition of antiquities native to courtesans. ‘It means I have a problem that I don’t know how to solve yet. What exactly am I supposed to do with this woman?’
‘Is she beautiful? They were reputedly all rare beauties.’
‘That bit’s true.’
‘Is she smart?’
‘I would say so, yes. Also cunning and completely unfathomable.’ Keeping her distance and rousing his curiosity, making her presence felt all the more keenly by the simple act of staying out of his way. ‘I need you to come here and see what she wants. Befriend her. Gain her confidence. Tell me what she wants.’
‘I can be there in a week.’
‘I meant today,’ he countered.
‘Can’t. I have a luncheon at twelve, a charity meeting at two, hospital tour at three and then I’m having a private dinner with my beloved husband who I’ve barely seen all week.’
‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’ll send the helicopter for you.’
‘Or you could talk to her yourself and find out exactly what this woman can do for you. Can she act as a social secretary, for example? Can she organise the Winter Solstice ball? Courtesans of old were muses, strategists, women of great influence. Think Madame de Pompadour or Theodora from the Byzantine empire. She might be one of those. Give her something to do. Apart from you, obviously.’
‘She is not doing me,’ he ground out.
‘Has she offered?’
She’d arrived wearing a collar and manacles, amongst other things. She’d called herself a courtesan and then she’d ignored him. ‘Who the hell knows?’
‘Do you—okay, you know what? Never mind, because there are some things sisters simply shouldn’t know. Give her the Winter Solstice ball to oversee. I’m serious. Put her to work. See if she truly wants to be of use to you.’
‘I’d rather she left.’
‘But why? You need a social secretary who wants to do a good job and isn’t inclined to sell us out. Talk to her. See what she wants from her role and from you. Your goals might align.’
‘What if she doesn’t want to be here at all?’
‘Then you’ll work together to find a way out of this. But not before I’ve seen all the art and persuaded her to let us photograph and document it, where possible. I can’t wait to see it.’
Augustus sighed. Theo really was a bad influence on his sister, who’d once dutifully dedicated herself to serving the Arunian monarchy. These days she shone a light on the already glittering Liesendaach crown and Augustus sorely missed her attention. He did need someone to replace his sister. Someone with a personal stake in taking on the role and making it their own. A wife...he’d been thinking of it. Not doing anything about it, mind, but thinking that soon he would start looking in earnest. Meanwhile, he had a...courtesan...at his disposal. Whatever that meant. Maybe they could renegotiate her job description.
‘All right.’ There was nothing else for it. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
* * *
It took until mid-afternoon before Augustus made his way to the round room in search of the elusive Sera of the High Reaches. Ignoring her presence and hoping she’d miraculously go away wasn’t working for him. Answers on how best to get rid of her were not forthcoming. Moriana thought she might be of use to him and he trusted his sister’s judgement in most things. Sera’s CV would make any power broker salivate. To have those kind of contacts at his disposal...
And yet he wasn’t the type to share power and he didn’t trust her motivations one little bit.
So here he was, foul of temper and distinctly lacking in patience as he stood at the closed doors to the round room and eyed the profusion of damask roses and soft greenery with distaste, even as the scent of them conjured memories of cloistered gardens and all things feminine. His mother had enjoyed overseeing the floral arrangements throughout the palace, but she’d not have allowed this flat-out challenge to grim austerity. This tease to stop and sniff and feast the eyes on such unrepentantly fleeting beauty.
With one last scathing glare, Augustus stood firm against the temptation to lean forward and let the scent of the roses envelop him. Instead, he pulled the dangling cord that would announce his arrival at the doors. He heard the faint chime of bells and then nothing. Ten seconds later, he reached for the cord again, and then the door opened and the roses were forgotten.
Never mind the creamy skin and the perfection of her lips, the delicate curve of her cheekbones, the raven-black hair that fell in a thick plait to her waist or those eyes that glistened dove-grey. Today his courtesan wore low-slung loose trousers and a cropped fitted top that clung to her curves like a greedy lover’s hand. She was lean and lithe in all the right places, and generously voluptuous in others.
It was a body designed to bring a man to his knees and keep him there for eternity.
She stepped back and dropped her gaze demurely, even as she opened the door wider and sank to the floor in a curtsey, and he might have felt a heel for causing such an action except that she moved like a dancer, fluid and graceful, and he wanted to watch her do it all over again.
‘Don’t do that.’ It was a curt reminder, mostly to himself, that she shouldn’t be on her knees in front of him. It gave him too many ideas, all of them sexual.
‘My mistake.’ She rose as gracefully as she’d
gone down in the first place. ‘Welcome, Your Majesty. Please forgive my appearance. I wasn’t expecting company.’
‘What were you doing?’ Her skin glowed with a faint sheen of exertion.
‘Forms,’ she said. ‘Martial arts patterns.’
‘Don’t stop on my account.’
‘I can do them any time,’ she murmured. ‘I’d rather have company.’
He looked around, taking in the now spotless round room, its stone walls and floors covered in tapestries and carpets, oil paintings and silver-edged mirrors. A huge round sofa had been placed in the centre of the room, beneath the domed glass ceiling. The seats faced inwards and there were openings at all four points of the compass. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘The tradespeople and artisans have gone and the Lady Lianthe with them. My guards are currently in a meeting with your guards about how best to utilise their services, given that standing outside a door that no one ever knocks on is a waste of their time and expertise. The maids have been and gone. There is only me.’
Holding her own in a round room built for hundreds to gather in and bedrooms enough for fifty. ‘It’s you I’ve come to see.’
She turned her back on him and led him towards the sofa at the centre of the room. It was leather and studded and looked comfortably soft with age. Pillows and throws had been placed on it at intervals, and the circular floor tapestry framed by the sofa had a stained-glass quality about it, with different scenes to look at depending on where a person sat. ‘What is that?’
‘On the floor?’
He nodded.
‘It’s a communication device. Each scene depicts an action: a need or desire, if you will. In older times a visitor to this place—or even another courtesan—would approach this area and in choosing where to sit would telegraph their needs. Those needs would be seen to.’
‘Just like that?’
‘So they say.’
‘And is that the way it’s going to work for me?’
‘Why don’t you sit somewhere and see?’
‘Maybe I will.’ Maybe he wouldn’t. Better all round if he didn’t engage, no matter how fascinating the history she brought with her. ‘I’ve been trying to get rid of you.’
‘I know that, Your Majesty.’ She glanced towards the tapestry. ‘Take your time looking at it. Even if you don’t plan to use it as directed it’s an amazing piece of artistry. I’ll make tea.’
He watched as she walked away from him, tracking every curve as if it would somehow allow him to see inside her skin. Only once she had withdrawn from sight did he turn his attention back to the mood-gauging tapestry on the floor in front of him. He’d never seen such a thing.
Some of the panels were easy enough to figure out. There was an orgy scene, with bodies entwined in the throes of ecstasy. A gentler scene in which a man reclined while a woman read to him. Another scene depicted people eating from a table covered in delicacies. A bathing scene. A sword-fighting scene. Another showing a reclining man being entertained by dancers holding fans. A dozen men and women stood around a table, deep in sombre discussion. A sleeping couple filled another panel. With every step another mood or need satisfied. A man lashed to a wooden X, his back a mass of welts as he writhed beneath the whip. A beautiful woman holding that whip, her expression one of complete control and focus. Punishment delivered, but not in anger, and the man on the cross looked...grateful.
His courtesan had returned with tea; he could hear her off to one side and see her in his peripheral vision.
‘You do all this?’ he asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the whipping scene. ‘Put a man to the lash and strip the guilt from his soul before putting him back together again?’ The next scene showed the same woman tending the man’s wounds.
‘I’ve been trained to, yes.’ She approached from his left and held out a porcelain cup filled with pale amber tea. ‘Will you sit?’
He took the tea and let his fingers brush hers. She stilled, and so did he.
He didn’t believe in instant attraction. He’d never been a slave to his body’s baser demands. But if one tiny touch could send this much heat and awareness coursing through him, imagine what she could do with full body contact?
‘It’s a trap,’ he said at last.
‘How so?’ Her gaze was steady, her features as smooth as marble.
He gestured towards the depictions of service laid out before him, and it was all very tempting, except that beneath the surface pleasures lay a darker truth altogether. Mind, body and soul. She wasn’t here to serve. She was here to own him. ‘What wife could ever compete if I had this at my disposal? Where else would I go but here, where every whim would be served up to me on a gilded plate? By the time I’d satisfied every corrupt thought lying dormant in my soul it would be too late for either of us to escape. I’d own you, in ways you’ve never dreamed of. And you’d own me.’
‘Well, that’s one interpretation,’ she said. ‘There are others.’
‘Tell me some others.’
‘Ignore the sexual element and take advantage of my political prowess instead. Arun is a stabilising force in this region. Many would like to keep it that way, including those I answer to. Including you.’
‘Am I not doing that already?’ Because he thought he was.
‘Your plans to unify water resources across four neighbouring nations haven’t gone unnoticed. This region will grow to become a power bloc—provided you can hold it together.’
He had Theo, Casimir and Valentine right there with him, a shared vision for their region. ‘I can hold it together.’
‘Indeed, we think so,’ she said. ‘But who will explain your ambitions to a wider world that might fear such a power shift?’
‘And I suppose you can help me there.’
She couldn’t fail to pick up on the sarcasm in his voice but she paid no heed to it. ‘The Order of the Kite has contacts you don’t yet have. I can make introductions, facilitate communication channels that you will then keep open when I leave.’
‘And what’s in it for you?’
A tiny smile graced her lips. ‘World peace?’
‘You’re a saint,’ he said. ‘But I still want to know—what’s in it for you personally? I don’t understand why a modern-minded woman with your kind of looks and education would choose such a role. I don’t know what your angle is. Do you want to marry a man of power and gain power and status through him? What happens after me? Do they send you onto the next visionary King in need? And the next after that?’
‘I only need to do this once,’ she replied quietly. ‘I serve you until you release me, at which point my debt will have been repaid. Then I’m free to choose my own way.’
‘What debt?’
‘The Order cared for my mother through a long and arduous decline and she died with peace and dignity. They saved me from a life in the gutter.’
‘And how old were you when this happened?’
‘Does that matter? Others turned away from us. They didn’t.’
‘It matters.’
A small frown appeared between her eyes. ‘I was seven.’
Seven years old and taken and trained and made to feel beholden to her rescuers. ‘So basically you’ve had no choice but to do what they ask of you.’
‘Have you ever had a choice but to serve the monarchy?’ she asked, and he glared at her. ‘I think not. We are not so different, you and I. You were born into service. In a way, so was I.’
Except that for her it wasn’t a lifetime commitment. ‘I’m releasing you from your duty. Soon as I can.’
She nodded. ‘I’d like that. But at least make use of me first.’
His gaze slid to that cursed wheel of desire on the floor.
‘You don’t have to take advantage of all that’s on offer.’ She barely knew him and already she was reading him like a book. That d
idn’t happen to Augustus. Ever. ‘But you could take advantage of some of it without surrendering your mortal soul.’
‘There’s an opening on my staff for a social secretary. I need someone to organise a ball and other smaller events.’ He handed the teacup back to her, still full. Not a drop had passed his lips. ‘Can we start with that?’
Sera nodded as she set the tea aside. ‘Of course.’
‘I think fixed boundaries between us would be best. Meanwhile, is there something I can do to make your stay here more comfortable? Anything you need that you haven’t already seen to?’ She wasn’t a sorceress. He wasn’t a lovesick fool, but he could still offer common courtesy.
‘If you and I are to be observing fixed boundaries, there is something I’d like to discuss.’
He waited.
It was the first time he’d ever seen her looking nervous.
‘Am I free to seek sexual satisfaction elsewhere?’
Continued silence was often a tactic he used to force the other person to speak. This time, pure shock stilled his lips.
Sera of the High Reaches squared her delicate shoulders and fixed him with pleading kitten eyes. ‘I’ve never truly been intimate with another person. That was reserved for you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it. And seeing you’re not of a mind to...’
He wasn’t a complete stranger to women becoming impatient for sexual experience. His sister, dear Lord, had been quite adamant about partying up a storm at one point. But not under his roof, and she’d never actually gone through with it. Theo had seen to that, with Augustus’s full blessing. Now this.
‘You’re a virgin courtesan?’
‘Yes. Do you seriously think they would send someone used?’
‘Oh, pardon my ignorance. Forgive me that I assumed some small measure of experience from a trained courtesan!’ Never mind the beast in his belly that flicked a scaly tail and roared because she’d been kept pure so that he could be her teacher. It wasn’t right for him to want that, and it certainly wasn’t right that she’d had no say in her own sexual enlightenment.
