by Kelly Hunter
Benedict, after spending half a day with him, dropped all pretence of pleasantries the minute they left the stables and brought out the bolt-cutters in an attempt to prise Augustus open.
‘What on earth is wrong with you?’ he demanded bluntly. ‘I’ve seen junkies desperate for their next fix in better shape than you.’
And Benedict would know. Even though he’d settled down and returned to the family fold after his father’s death, there wasn’t much Benedict of Liesendaach didn’t know about the darker side of sex, drugs and reckless self-indulgence.
‘I’m not on drugs.’ He’d never followed that road.
‘And yet you’re radiating barely concealed angst all over my calm. Are you having an existential crisis? You’d be surprised how many people invite me to tea and then proceed to come undone. As if I give a damn.’ Benedict was eyeing him speculatively. ‘Although for you I might show minor concern. I owe your sister a favour. She gave me my cousin back.’
‘Whatever debt you think you owe Moriana, leave me out of it.’ He didn’t need saving or fixing or whatever else Benedict thought he was doing. He just wanted a distraction from the woman in his birdcage who was messing with his head. The woman who this morning had put a tapestry illustrating one of his ancestors feasting in the round room on show in the main entry hall. The accompanying plaque named every nobleman in the picture, the names of every courtesan and the date. On a plinth beside the tapestry sat an open recipe book, written in a language of old. Beside it, she’d offered a printed translation of Feast Number Six for Midwinter Dining.
Augustus scowled afresh. Sera of the High Reaches was doing exactly what he’d told her to do and, what was more, she was doing it well.
‘No sexual identity crisis?’
What the hell was it with these questions lately? ‘I’m male. I’m straight. I sincerely don’t know what else to say to that question.’
‘Not a problem,’ said Benedict blithely. ‘But if that had been your problem I would have helped. I take my role seriously when it comes to being a guiding light for same sex relationships of the royal variety.’
‘You buried yourself in vice, became estranged from your family and then downplayed your most important romantic relationship for years.’
‘And now I’m back. Like I said: guiding light. I’m a veritable lighthouse.’
Augustus snorted.
‘Besides, there are other existential crises to be had,’ continued Benedict. ‘No unexpected desire to be tied, gagged and at someone’s mercy?’
‘No.’
‘Bootlicking, public sex, voyeurism...’
‘I worry about you occasionally,’ said Augustus.
‘I’m worried for you right now, in spite of my self-proclaimed indifference. It appears I’m getting soft.’
‘Worry about something else.’
‘I hear you have a courtesan in residence. Moriana thinks it’s wonderful. A revelation, rich in art, history and cultural significance. Which, while I embrace your sister’s enthusiasm for all things cultural, rather seems to be missing the point. You have a woman who has been trained to indulge your every sexual whim living in your birdcage. How’s that working out for you?’
Trust Benedict to get straight to the sexual point.
‘The Lady Sera has now retired from her former role as courtesan and has taken on an events management and PR position.’
Benedict had his head down and his hands in his pockets as they headed for the car that would take them on to future engagements, but at this he looked up. ‘No special services at all?’
‘She’s finding me a wife.’
When Benedict laughed, he did it body, heart and soul. He was laughing now, near bent double, and all Augustus could do was scowl.
‘That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had,’ offered Benedict when his amusement no longer threatened his ability to talk.
‘Thank you for your enduring support. Moriana’s helping her.’
‘Good heavens, you’re serious.’
‘When am I not?’
‘Says he who threatened Theo with a procession of elephants after he proposed to your sister.’
‘I reiterate—when am I not serious?’ Elephants too had been part of Arun’s lore of old. His courtesan could probably tell him all about them. ‘I need a wife in order to make the courtesan in the birdcage go away. I also need an heir and Arun could use a Queen. They seem like good enough reasons to make marrying a priority.’
‘I understand your need for a wife. I even understand your desire to canvass other royal opinions as part of your decision-making process. But why’s the courtesan helping you choose one?’
‘She’s not helping me choose, she’s simply helping to organise the parade of eligible women.’
‘Giving her ample opportunity to manipulate the parade itself,’ Benedict offered with a hefty helping of sarcasm.
‘If I don’t like what I see I can always look elsewhere.’ Augustus was famously picky when it came to choosing women to keep company with. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t already looked. I need to broaden my horizons. This is one way to do it.’
‘Are you intending to bed your former courtesan while you wait for your potential Queen to amble by?’
‘No.’ But his brain conjured the image of Sera on her knees before him and then another one of her naked beneath him, a writhing, pleading mess as he sent her soaring, those expressive grey eyes blind to everything but the feel of him. ‘That would be potentially off-putting to said future wife.’
‘Tempting, though.’
‘Very,’ he admitted through gritted teeth.
Benedict smirked. ‘I see your dilemma. Fewer scruples would help.’
‘A king leads by example. Sera of the High Reaches needs to leave my employment in the same state in which she entered it.’
‘Right. And meanwhile you...’
‘Go slowly round the twist, yes.’
Sera knew Augustus was avoiding her and, frankly, that suited her just fine. Courtesans weren’t meant to blush at the memory of a man’s mouth on her. She wasn’t supposed to crave Augustus’s attention the way she did. Anything would do. A touch, a glance, the merest shred of his attention. Anything to feed the bubbling cauldron of emotion he’d awakened in her. The desperate need to satisfy his desires and hers. The things they could do, and feel. They could be fearless together...
She read texts on controlling sexual situations, because that was his way, was it not? She read texts on how best to stay safe while surrendering control. She did everything he asked of her. Put artwork from the High Reaches on display in his palace and the libraries and galleries of Arun. Arranged speaking engagements for herself and spent hours crafting speeches to fit various target audiences. She set about reinventing her role here and part of her relished the challenge even as another part mourned the loss of tradition. She purchased clothes more suitable to a corporate banker than a courtesan, and when the Winter Solstice ball came along she attended it as the events co-ordinator, dressed fully in nondescript black. Black boots, black trousers, fitted black blazer and her black hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Communication pack at her waist and an earphone in her ear, she was quite clearly working the event and not there as a guest.
It didn’t stop people—mostly men—from staring at her regardless or luring her to their side under the guise of making a complaint and then asking for her phone number or simply asking her what she was doing later. No finesse, but most accepted her polite brush-offs with equal civility. Those who pressed their suit met Ari and Tun. Augustus might have requested her presence here tonight but he hadn’t been stupid enough to leave her unprotected.
Small mercies.
Just because he had no desire for a courtesan, didn’t mean others were equally restrained. Augustus had relinquished his claim on her in the most
public way possible—by putting her to work, very visibly, in another role. Others were singularly inclined to pick her up where he’d left off.
It made it extremely difficult for her to competently do her job.
When Augustus’s long-suffering secretary caught her eye and wordlessly directed her to the service doors, Sera made her way towards them. He met her there, his face impassive.
‘The King respectfully requests that from this point onwards you leave all requests for your personal attention for either me or your guards to deal with,’ he began.
‘With pleasure.’
‘He also requests that you stop deliberately attracting attention.’
Deliberately attracting attention? ‘Are my black clothes not modest enough?’
The older man hitched his shoulders in a wordless gesture signifying who knew what.
‘Shall I overcome years of comportment training and walk with a slouch?’
Another shrug. ‘I’m just the messenger.’
‘Then you can tell the King that this is no more and no less attention than I ever receive. People look and people want. There is no “off” switch. The relationship between King and courtesan is often mutually beneficial in that once he stakes his claim the unwanted attention afforded a courtesan will stop. Of course, this King is far too enlightened to understand that the course of action he insists I follow has consequences he knows nothing about.’
‘I’ll let him know,’ the older man said, and strode off.
The next time a guest beckoned her forward, she sent Ari to deal with him.
The next time the King’s secretary approached she summoned her gentlest smile.
‘The King suggests you supervise the event from the upper west balcony,’ he said. ‘From behind the lights.’
‘Of course.’ There were two ways to reach the suggested balcony. By the servants’ entrance or by the central staircase. She chose the stairs. Head held high and the six-inch heels of her boots very much on show, she made her way straight up the middle with Tun and Ari falling into place on either side of her and two steps behind. She didn’t bother looking back.
She knew damn well she had almost everyone’s attention. Including Augustus’s.
* * *
He found her two hours later, after the remains of the meal had been cleared away and guests had gravitated towards the dance floor, some to dance, some to stand and mingle at the edges. He’d mingled too, for as long as his patience would allow, and then he’d slipped away through a side door and taken the back way to the balcony. She had her back to him as one of her guards opened the door so he could enter. The second guard appraised him coolly before apparently making some kind of decision and silently taking his leave and closing the balcony door behind them and plunging them into near darkness.
‘Why are you up here when you should be down there?’ she asked without even turning around.
Why indeed? ‘How did you know it was me?’
‘Ari gave us privacy. There’s only one person in this palace he’d do that for without waiting for my command.’ She turned to face him. ‘Your Majesty.’
He didn’t make the mistake of thinking Sera’s guards were under his control. According to his Head of Security, they were compliant to a point. Co-operating when they could, fitting unobtrusively into whatever protection detail was in place. Beyond that, they were hers. ‘Lucky me.’
Her shuttered glance mocked him.
‘Would you prefer I call him back in?’ she offered, dry as dust.
‘No. The evening didn’t go quite to plan, as far as you were concerned.’
‘Didn’t it?’ She sounded wholly unconcerned. ‘I thought it went well. You mingled. Ate well. Met the women you wanted to meet. I gather Katerina DeLitt is a pleasant enough conversationalist.’
‘She is.’ One of his sister’s additions to the potential brides list. A noblewoman with strong trade connections. ‘She’s titled, well-read, entertaining and perfectly pleasing to the eye. And yet no one here this evening seemed to be able to see past you.’
‘It happens.’
‘Why?’ His knew his voice sounded tight with frustration. ‘You were supposed to blend in as an employee, shatter the myth of the courtesans of old. Instead you—’
‘Instead I what?’ He really should have taken note of the sharp note in her voice. He hadn’t grown up with a temperamental sister for nothing. ‘Did I not dress appropriately and make sure the evening ran smoothly? Was I not available to troubleshoot guest issues as they arose? Did I not do what you asked of me?’
‘You drew too much attention.’
She leaned back against the balcony and crossed her arms in front of her, wholly unconcerned by the low balustrade and the significant drop to the floor below. ‘I’ve been drawing that kind of attention since childhood. They say I have too much presence, that my beauty serves to make others insecure. Some people want to tear me down before I’ve ever said a word to them. Others would own me for their own ego enhancement. I don’t blend in. I never have. My beauty will always be both celebrated and demonised, sometimes both at once, because beauty is power, and never more dangerous than in the hands of someone who knows how to use it.’ She cocked her head to one side, her face in shadows and the spotlights behind her shining out across the ballroom below. ‘You want me to craft a new persona while I live beneath your roof and I have no objection to doing so. But the response of others to power such as mine is always going to be part of it. Your response to me is always going to be part of it. So what’s it to be? Are you here to work with me? Ask me to set up another meeting for you with the pleasant enough Katerina DeLitt? Perhaps you’d also like to tell me to make a note to never invite Peter Saville and Ricardo Anguissey to the same event again lest their wives and everyone else discover that they’re in each other’s pants? Or are you here to condemn me because my mere presence makes others behave badly?’
He’d been about to do that last one. He hadn’t liked the attention his guests had bestowed on his new events co-ordinator. The predatory nature of some of it. His instinctive desire to protect her from it. He’d wanted to claim her, to own her, to tear into anyone who dared covet her. Berate her for using the same stairs dozens of his other employees had used throughout the evening.
He wanted to step away from the door and look into her face, the better to try and interpret her every thought. He wanted to see her eyes darken with desire not hurt, and then he wanted to turn her around to face the ballroom and tell her that none of the people down there mattered; only his elemental desire to claim her mattered. And then he would step up behind her, open her trousers and bring her to quivering arousal with his fingers while his mouth ravaged hers and smothered her soft gasps of completion. She’d let him.
He knew damn well she’d let him.
And the next time he saw her she’d have drawn up a new list of candidates eligible to become his Queen—women with a knack for surrendering to exhibitionism or possessiveness or whatever this was that he wanted from her.
From her, not them.
‘Is my Minister for Trade really having an affair with our Liesendaach Ambassador?’ he said instead. ‘I’ll have to tell Theo.’
‘You’re assuming he doesn’t already know.’
Augustus lowered his head and bit down a snort. She had a point. ‘In that case, I’ll ask my sister why I shouldn’t simply send Liesendaach’s diplomatic representative home and get them to send a new one.’
She smiled ever so slightly, and dropped her arms to her sides and then curled her hands around the railing behind her. ‘That would be one way of opening dialogue about the conflict of many interests, yes.’
He liked seeing her less defensive when she looked at him. ‘What else did you see?’
‘Your Transport Minister’s wife is pregnant and not coping well with the demands of his job and
her first trimester sickness. One of the Cordova twins of Liesendaach will be going home this evening with your Horse Master, although I’m not sure which one. And Prince Benedict of Liesendaach enjoys winding you up more than you can possibly imagine. If he wasn’t so enamoured of his partner I’d think him desperate for your attention.’
‘Benedict enjoys cultivating other people’s low opinion of him. It prevents them from noticing how ruthlessly cunning he is until it’s too late. At which point he usually has enough dirt on them to make them beholden to him for life. Never underestimate him.’
‘I like him already,’ she murmured.
‘He collects art. I’m sure he’d like to see some of the treasures that now reside in the round room.’ Benedict would go nuts over the tapestry wheel on the floor. ‘You might want to be careful about where he wants to sit on that round sofa of yours. Because he’ll doubtless want to sit in every damn section, just to see what happens.’
She smiled and for a moment his breath caught in his throat. It didn’t matter what they’d just been talking about because that smile was one he hadn’t seen before—openly conspiratorial and at the same time unguarded. As if gossiping about guests and trusting her to deal with Benedict however she saw fit made her happy.
He looked away, trying desperately not to be one of those men who looked at her and wanted her for all the wrong reasons. Nor did he want to be among the masses who became putty in her hands with just one smile. He wanted to do right by this woman who’d been placed in his care regardless of whether he wanted her there or not. Set her up to succeed. Give her a way out of the lifestyle she’d had thrust upon her when she was seven years old.
No judgement. No slaking his desires. Just common human decency. ‘Make sure Katerina DeLitt is invited to the next palace function, along with the next set of candidates,’ he said gruffly. ‘I like her.’
