Untouched Queen by Royal Command

by Kelly Hunter

  He had a courtesan. A virgin courtesan. Standing there beneath the dome, her midriff bare, hair pulled back and no make-up on her face. ‘Do you have someone in mind to be intimate with?’

  He had the sudden reckless desire to strangle them.

  ‘I had you in mind,’ she said as her gaze briefly dropped to his lips. ‘I do know what to do in theory.’

  ‘Theory isn’t doing. What if I wanted to use you roughly? Tie you down, take away all your control and self-respect and make you beg for release? Take away your ability to reason? Take every slight ever dealt me and transfer them to your flesh? Did your illustrious tutors ever teach you how to deal with sadistic madmen?’

  She had no answer for him.

  ‘You know nothing,’ he challenged.

  Her first kiss was his if he wanted it, not to mention the second. All of it. He headed for the door before he lost his mind and took what she offered so freely. He had his hand on the door before something made him look back. She’d fallen to a curtsey facing him and the door, her body placed right in the centre of that cursed carpet depicting every sin and pleasure known to man.

  ‘Get up.’ He didn’t want this. He didn’t dare take it. ‘Come here.’

  He waited until she stood before him, her eyes betraying uncertainty as he leaned down until their lips almost touched. ‘Lord knows I didn’t ask for you, but you’ve come here labelled as my courtesan and I will cut the hand off anyone who touches you. No kissing. No sex. No flirting with any of my employees. Are we clear?’

  ‘Clear. Very clear,’ she whispered with a tell-tale tremor in her voice. He was scaring her.

  And then he got caught in the whirling vortex of her expressive grey eyes, and maybe he wasn’t scaring her at all. Because that look right there looked a whole lot like surrender.

  ‘Do the work I ask of you,’ he grated. ‘Put me in contact with the power brokers you think I need to cultivate. Find me a suitable wife if you can.’ He could claim those perfect lips if he wanted to, tease the bow of the upper one with the tip of his tongue, slide in easy and experienced and lay her mouth to waste. She wasn’t unwilling. She definitely wasn’t unwilling.

  ‘Above all...don’t tempt me.’

  * * *

  Sera shut the door behind him and leaned against it, still reeling beneath the weight of his words and that brief brush of his lips against hers. It had barely qualified as a kiss but she could still feel the burn of his palm against her chin and the rough stroke of his thumb against her cheekbone. His breath caressing her lips and the swift charge of desire when their eyes caught and held.

  She’d wanted him to kiss her properly. Lay claim or lay to waste; either would have been acceptable. She slid to the floor, both hands between her legs, pressing down hard against the feelings he’d ignited inside her. She was so ready for a physical awakening. All the theory in the world and exploration with her own hands could only get her so far. She wanted his hands where her hands were, driving her higher until she broke all over him.

  It wouldn’t have to be all give on her part and all take on his, even if she did want to read and respond to every nuanced muscle twitch he made. She had been trained to please, no matter what he might think. The physical arrangement between courtesan and King didn’t have to be the bad thing he was making it out to be. Did it?

  Closing her eyes, she pressed up into her hand, seeking release, sharp and swift, as she allowed herself to imagine his kiss. Not the tease he’d left her with.

  A proper kiss.

  She ran her tongue over the spot where his lips had just been and came moments later, imagining it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT TOOK SERA two days to organise the midwinter ball. The guest list had already been prepared by Moriana, formerly of Arun and now Queen Consort to the King of Liesendaach. Her Royal Highness Moriana had returned Sera’s call promptly and approved the additional guests Sera had put forward for the express purpose of finding Augustus a wife. Invitations had gone out. The palace staff were happy for someone—anyone—to take the helm and direct the preparations. The ball was an annual event and they were well trained and competent.

  After that, there was a dinner for twelve to organise, and then an informal supper for thirty in one of the smaller palace libraries. Moriana had phoned Sera about the library event guest list several times already and once to discuss what books would go on display in the library given the handful of historians on the guest list. Moriana had asked if there were any books belonging to the courtesans of the High Reaches that Sera could put on display.

  At that, Sera had hesitated. Some books could be displayed without controversy, but not all. The journals of the courtesans of old were fascinating, but they weren’t for public viewing.

  Augustus had not been back. No other visitors had called on her and her guards had been incorporated into the regular ranks of the palace, although she still met with them for morning exercise. They met in the horse yard behind the stables, where the sawdust on the ground was sweet and soft. They’d thought it out of the way enough that they wouldn’t bother anyone. Three days in and already they had a growing audience for the martial arts patterns they completed in unison and the sparring that came afterwards. Give it another week and the requests for lessons would start. She could see the hunger for more in the eyes of those watching. The curiosity, reluctant admiration, and sometimes the heat.

  Always the heat.

  Aware of the restlessness riding her, Sera pushed her body hard during morning exercise, as comfortable as she could be with the hot eyes of the crowd, the sun weak and watery and a chill in the air that reminded her of the mountains.

  When she met the ground for the third time because of inattention, Ari, the guardsman who’d put her there, stepped back and disengaged from their sparring. She wasn’t easy to take down, and this time the kick to her sternum would have broken bones if she hadn’t deflected the blow at the last minute. Ari had expected far better from her. She wasn’t concentrating.

  She lay there, eyes closed and reluctant to take a breath because when she did it was going to hurt. She felt rather than saw someone crouch down beside her and, quick as a snake, she clamped her hand around their wrist as they went to touch her torso.

  ‘Easy.’

  She opened her eyes to slits and studied the forearm she’d captured. It was tanned and corded with muscle, the hand looked strong and the fingernails blunt. She looked for a face to match the hand but the sun was directly in her line of sight. It wouldn’t be Ari or Tun; they knew better than to offer to help her up. It might be someone from the audience who didn’t understand the limits she lived by.

  She moved just enough to let the man’s body block the sun, the better to see his face.

  Augustus.

  She took in a breath and pain didn’t slice at her. She eased into a sitting position and didn’t pass out. Good news.

  ‘You went down pretty hard,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘My own fault,’ she murmured, and let go of his arm. He had the right to touch her. She could not refuse.

  He stood and held out his hand and slowly, carefully, she put her hand in his and let him help her up.

  His hand was more calloused than she’d been expecting from a man who did no physical work. Her hand looked tiny clasped in his. His dark eyes showed no emotion.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

  ‘I live here. And when rumour reaches me that half my security force is turning up on their days off to watch the northerners beat the living daylights out of each other I get curious.’

  Fair enough. She took back her hand and spared a glance for her guards. Only two were here with her; the third was on duty. Neither stepped forward, although Ari’s fingers flickered a message that hopefully only she could read. Had he injured her?

  No.

  A silent conversation, mean
t to set her guardsman at ease.

  He didn’t seem convinced.

  ‘What may we do for you, Your Majesty?’

  ‘Find somewhere else to practise, for starters. You have half my men-at-arms gagging for a glimpse of you. The other half have already seen you fight and now have a new erotic fantasy to be going on with.’

  He wasn’t being fair. ‘Sawdust is soft and the floors in my quarters are too hard for serious sparring. Where else might we practise? We are also open to teaching those of your court who wish to learn the forms and uses they might be put to. Ari is a master. Tun a champion who will soon retreat to the mountains for his final year of meditation before he too becomes a high practitioner of the art.’

  ‘What grade do you hold?’

  ‘I hold my own.’

  ‘You didn’t today.’

  ‘I lost focus. If there’s some other place you’d rather we practise we’ll take it, Your Majesty. We practise daily, together and alone. It’s not just exercise. It’s a way of life for those who guard the temples of the High Reaches. It’s contact and communication. Learning how to read a person’s movements. It’s non-sexual. Instructional. There’s no harm in it,’ she said in the face of his continued silence.

  He gave Tun and Ari a glare far sharper than any knife. ‘Then why are you hurt?’

  ‘I’m wiser in the face of Ari’s takedown. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘What did the older one say to you with his sign language?’

  She hadn’t thought he’d been in any position to see that. ‘He wanted to know if I was injured.’

  ‘He could have asked.’

  ‘You were there and seeing to me. Discretion was best.’

  ‘Tell them not to use sign language again in front of my men. It breeds suspicion and there’s already far too much of that around here because of you and the old ways you’ve brought with you.’

  It was true; the people here continued to see her as other. ‘People fear what they don’t understand.’

  ‘They also fear rare beauty, overt displays of power and influence and those who never stay down, even when beaten. Especially when beaten. Tone it down, Sera, or I’ll shut you in your room full of temptation and beautiful things and leave you there.’

  ‘I’m never going to please you, am I? You give me functions to organise and I organise them. I come meekly when called. I’ve stacked the midwinter ball full of accomplished single women for you to meet. I’ve set up introductions with people of influence. What else do you want?’

  ‘I want sweet dreams,’ he grated. ‘I’d prefer them not to be about you. My sister has just flown in. She says she’s already been in contact with you by phone. She wants to meet you.’

  Sera wasn’t ready for guests, sweaty and aching as she was. She wanted to ask more about his dreams. ‘I’ll need half an hour before I’m properly presentable.’

  ‘You don’t have it,’ he said, and opened a half-hidden door in the castle wall. ‘After you.’

  She had sawdust in her hair and on her sleeve and down the leg of her loose cotton trousers. ‘Are you always this petty?’ she asked, and watched his eyes narrow.

  ‘It’s an impromptu visit and my sister schedules herself so tightly that she never has much time,’ he countered. ‘Believe me, I like spontaneity less than you do but she’s here now and you look fine as you are. Through this door and keep walking for a minute or two. After you.’

  She stepped inside and kept to a brisk pace. The corridor was narrow but well lit. The next door he bade her to walk through opened into a large sitting room with a wall full of windows overlooking palace gardens. An elegant woman in a tangerine sundress rose from a chair as they entered. Sera took note of her poise and careful smile before dropping to the floor in a curtsey, suddenly light-headed at the piercing pain coming from somewhere near her ribs. Maybe she had taken some damage after all.

  ‘Moriana, meet Lady Sera, Courtesan of the High Reaches,’ Augustus said from somewhere beside her. ‘Sera, get up.’

  ‘Augustus, she’s not a hound,’ Moriana protested.

  ‘If I don’t tell her to get up she stays down.’ Augustus scowled as he bent forward and curled his hand around her upper arm and drew her to her feet. ‘You are injured. Don’t lie to me again.’

  ‘I’m okay.’ If he would stop looking at her as if she were a stain on his shoe she might feel less dizzy and disoriented.

  ‘Have I caught you at a bad time?’ his elegant, well-mannered sister asked as Sera swayed and tried to find her centre and her balance. Augustus’s hand tightened vicelike around her arm. ‘I hope Augustus hasn’t had you cleaning out the stables.’

  ‘No, Your Highness.’

  ‘I found her engaged in hand-to-hand combat with two of her guards.’

  ‘For exercise,’ Sera stressed.

  ‘Find another form of exercise.’ His eyes burned black.

  ‘I’ve been doing martial arts for fifteen years. If you tell me to give it up I will because I’m duty bound to obey you, so here’s a thought. Don’t ask me to.’

  The quiet clearing of a throat reminded Sera that they weren’t alone and she bowed her head in shame. She wasn’t presentable or amiable enough for guests. ‘I can do better,’ she offered quietly, and it was a blanket statement that covered a multitude of sins. ‘I will do better.’

  ‘Oh, for f—I’m trying to protect you.’ He turned to his sister. ‘She’s here. She’s all yours. I have other things to do. If she collapses, leave her where she falls.’

  ‘Augustus!’

  Sera watched from beneath lowered lashes as Augustus stalked from the room, leaving thick silence behind him and no even ground to stand on.

  ‘Well, that was...unexpected,’ the King’s sister said with no little bemusement. ‘What have you done with my courteous, by-the-book brother?’

  ‘Barely anything.’ And wasn’t that the truth. ‘He doesn’t want me here, Your Highness. That’s all.’ It underscored their every interaction.

  ‘And how old are you?’ Augustus’s sister asked next.

  ‘Twenty-three.’

  ‘You look about sixteen. Maybe that’s what’s bothering him.’

  Sera couldn’t say.

  ‘Are you here of your own free will?’

  ‘I am.’ Perhaps this woman, out of everyone here, would understand. ‘I undertake my role willingly and with honour.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. But it’s been over a hundred years since this court has seen a courtesan of the High Reaches. We are, as a rule, a suspicious lot and fiercely independent. How can you serve my brother? What is it you bring?’

  ‘Political backing and access to people of influence. You saw the additions to the most recent guest list for the library evening?’

  ‘A diplomat, a peacekeeper and a historian from well beyond our northern borders. Not people we usually deal with.’

  ‘Yet their voices are heard elsewhere, where others have concerns over the grand water plans for this region. What better way to begin conversation than with a casual evening of books, fine food and access to one of the monarchs at the heart of those plans?’

  ‘Are you saying that my brother can’t find his own way through the political mire?’

  ‘I’m saying that the Order of the Kite has influence far beyond Arun’s reckoning, and beyond Liesendaach’s too, never mind your husband’s dealings. Should your brother ever ask for access to people who can aid him in his vision, he shall receive.’

  ‘And has he asked?’

  ‘No.’ There was the not so small matter of his pride, not to mention his innate suspicion. Trust did not come easily to the royals of Arun. ‘There’s also the issue of your country needing an heir to the throne.’

  ‘I fail to see how a courtesan can help with that.’

  ‘And yet courtesans
throughout the centuries have brokered marriages and more. Something is holding your brother back from making a commitment. Once we understand what it is we can address the issue and find someone who can give him what he needs. I can encourage him to explore or even simply to voice those...needs...in a safe and confidential environment.’

  The elegant Queen Consort suddenly looked supremely uncomfortable. ‘What makes you think my brother has particular needs?’

  ‘The fact that he’s not yet married, perhaps?’ There was no delicate way to put this. ‘Look, everyone explores their inner desires given the right opportunity. My job is to give the man a non-judgemental space to do it in. Some of the preferences of former Kings of Arun have been quite specific.’

  Moriana blinked. ‘Do I really want to know?’

  ‘There are journals, milady. As a direct member of Arun’s royal family, you have the right to view them.’

  ‘May I see them now?’

  ‘Of course. I have some in my quarters.’

  ‘The rumours surrounding your quarters are quite...elaborate.’

  ‘The rumours are true. Would you like to take tea with me there? Your brother has yet to put a cup of mine to his lips but I assure you there’s no poison involved. That would be counterproductive.’

  ‘You do know that I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not?’

  Sera smiled. The King’s sister stared.

  ‘I’m beginning to realise the extent of my brother’s problem,’ Moriana said drily. ‘Yes, I’d like to see the journals and what you’ve done with the round room. I’ll cancel the rest of my morning engagements.’

  ‘Wonderful.’ Sera thought about curtseying again, but the memory of the pain involved gave her pause. She turned and headed for the door instead, opening it for her companion.

  ‘So you’ve been working with Augustus and his assistant. Have you met our head of household staff yet?’

  Sera nodded. ‘And the chefs, function waiting staff, and the head gardener.’