Deadly Secrets: Paranormal Reverse Harem (Dark Realms Book 1)

by Abby James

  He ran up the stairs two at a time, thanks to the effects of the quirine, which tingled through his body exciting his muscles. Extract of quern was a popular mix for combatants before a fight as it enhanced what they already had. Too much, however, and you became sloppy, made valuable miscalculations. In the arena, the slightest miscalculation could mean the loss of a limb or, depending on the level of combat, your life. Sargon never bothered with the drug, in or out of the arena.

  He strode across the cavernous hall to the wooden doors at the end, passing old council members immortalized behind glass. It took two guards to sweep the doors open and again Sargon was able to enter without breaking stride.

  All ten council members were present, perhaps due to his return from the north, no doubt each wanting to hear Sargon’s report for himself and have his say. A chair had been placed in the center facing the line of the council. Sargon, however, chose to stand. Thanks to the quirine, he wanted room to move and knew that, before long, the council would have him pacing.

  “Commander, we are all eager to hear your report of activity in the north.”

  “High Chamberman.” Sargon dipped his head, though not out of respect. It was important the council believed in his subordination. The commander-in-chief was not elected by the council, hence they would be unable to remove him, but they could make his task difficult.

  “My report is not good. We noticed increased activity across the border by small vehicles. I believe it is an advanced scout party, and they are caching supplies along the northern line.”

  “What evidence do you have to support these claims, Commander?” Archard leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table.

  “Village people are reporting weekly sightings.”

  “We cannot go by the ramblings of villagers.”

  “I have seen them with my own eyes, Lord Archard.”

  “Commander, you are aware of the seriousness of your assertions.” Waldron, the High Chamberman, was perhaps the most likely to listen, but he was easily swayed by the opinions of the others. He’d been elected by them for his lofty position and no doubt feared the council would call an early election if the rest lost faith in his decisions. In this way the High Chamberman became a puppet, always deferring to the greater wishes of the council.

  “I am aware of the seriousness of the situation, and the consequences due to lack of preparation.”

  “You have already made plans for deployment in the north.” Besides Archard, Tyrone was his toughest critic and also the oldest. With any luck he would be dead soon.

  “As commander-in-chief I made a decision for the safety of the region. It is not an act of aggression—”

  “But soldier deployment to the region will be viewed as such.”

  “And their movements are not an act of aggression? They are moving across our borders.”

  “Or so we are told.” Archard’s comment was saturated with sarcasm and he looked at the other members to engender support. Some nodded their heads in agreement.

  “We all know of the animosity between the northerners and your line, but we will not let our territory be dragged into a war of revenge.” Cathal listened too closely to Archard’s lies. Sargon expected little support from him either.

  “You know this has nothing to do with revenge.”

  Archard raised his eyebrows for an answer.

  “The decision is made. A small party is heading north. They will blend in with the villages and move on camel. There will be little to alert those across the border.”

  “You dismiss the laws and make decisions regarding our territory alone. It is these actions that endanger our peace.” Waldron’s outburst had the desired effect on the rest of the council, each nodding in agreement at his words.

  “No. It’s your lack of will to accept that threatens our territory.” He’d hoped to retain his anger. He should’ve known better.

  “Enough.” Waldron’s voice rose to match Sargon’s. “Do not push too far, Commander. Your position does not place you outside our law.”

  It was doubtable the council could do anything to stop him. He knew that, and they knew that. It was brute strength and popularity that gave the commander-in-chief his place and kept him there.

  Sargon had said his piece. Past experience told him they would pay his words little attention, for they were too absorbed with maintaining their seats to look beyond the city of Fortescue.

  Time to go. Being in their presence fed his anger.

  “I have reported and you now all know my actions. I have little else to say.”

  He turned to leave, but Waldron’s voice came up from behind.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is over.”

  He let the warning sit on his shoulders as he departed. Sargon had earned his position by being smart, resourceful, determined and strong, but above all, by holding the respect amongst his men. He had enough supporters surrounding him who would protect his back. Even so, it was wisest to never become complacent.

  Outside, the lowering sun reminded him of where he needed to be.

  He chose to walk the remainder of the way to his apartment, in the heart of the old quarters, prime real estate afforded only by the elite. His building was immaculately preserved, as was the rest of the district, and tended regularly by some of the resultant harvest. Chett wasn’t too far off the truth when he’d hung the garbage collector’s tag round the harvest kids’ necks. Most ended up doing jobs deemed beneath the citizens who were willing to pay the high prices for a bump up the social ladder.

  He pressed the button for home at the dome lift when his name was called. Sargon closed his eyes and sighed. Was there no end to his misery today?

  He turned. “Mother.”

  She came forward and kissed him on the cheek he didn’t offer.

  “Darling, I heard you were back from the north.”

  “I’ve only just arrived.”

  “You know how word travels.”

  “On your web, yes I do.”

  Her face remained impassive. As always, she concealed her emotions well. “Let me ride the lift with you.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “I hear a delivery was made to Madame Lorraine. But also one to Miss Tule.”

  Miss Tule had huffed at his request, claimed she was too busy to play charity for some wayward child. All lies, of course. She would’ve been brimming with interest over Rayce’s daughter.

  “What’s the reason for that smile?” She palmed his check, but Sargon turned his head away the moment her skin touched his. A rich perfume, exotic in its blend, filled the lift, the smell embedding in his olfactory memory, such that he would be unable to enjoy the scent again if he smelt it on another woman.

  “My own thoughts. As ever, your reach astounds me.”

  “Don’t you grow tired of underestimating me, my son?”

  “That is one mistake I will never make.”

  “You must’ve seen the girls on your return. I hear they came through Pardoo’s.”

  She would goad him until she got what she wanted to hear. But the arrival of the lift gave Sargon an opportunity to escape. He strode across his lounge room to the drinks cabinet. If she planned on staying any longer than the polite few minutes she normally managed to keep in his good graces, he would need something strong to soothe his temper.

  “Why is this such a secret?”

  “There is no secret. There is nothing of interest to tell. I arrived at Padoo’s late, eager for my bed.”

  “The ever-vigilant commander-in-chief.”

  He didn’t bother to offer her a drink, instead strode slider doors and stepped out onto the balcony. She dogged him with her soft, shushing footfalls close behind.

  He rounded on her before she could manage a word. “I know what you’re wanting to ask.”

  She raised an eyebrow but kept her cool countenance.

  “You want to know if I fancied any of them?”

  “There’s on
ly one who matters now, of course. The one now with Miss Lorraine.”

  “And I’m sure you know the girl’s name.”

  “You know Rayce’s daughter arrived in the harvest.”

  “Yes. And I also know she is with Miss Tule. Out of your reach.”

  With a wan smile, she turned her back on him. A skilled courtesan she may have been, but age was making her desperate, hence she was losing her tight grip on her emotions. The stiff line of her shoulders told him so.

  “And that was your doing.”

  “Don’t you get tired of manipulation and vengeance?”

  She spun. “I think only of you.”

  “Cut the crap, Mother. You think only of yourself.”

  “Will you select any of the courtesans?”

  She came toward him and ran her hand down his cheek. Although time had stolen her youth, Merriala was still a beauty. The pace of aging had been retarded with the help of rejuvenation therapy, but there was only so much the therapies could do before natural order became the greater force. It would pain Merriala to see even the slightest crease on her face.

  “I would’ve thought that a private matter.”

  “The commander-in-chief has no private matters.”

  “My mind is engaged with the north. If I need distraction, I’ll visit Magowbies.”

  “The girls there are hardly worth your notice.”

  “Who would you have me choose?”

  She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his chest.

  “Me, darling. No one will love you like I do. No one knows the council like I do. I can take care of you. I can help you in your decisions. You don’t need another.”

  Sargon reached behind, released her arms and moved across to the window. He looked out over the city and down to the sea. She came up beside him.

  “Will you take care of me like you did my father?” He glanced across to her and caught the small flinch she made. She buried the sudden shock deep in layers of falsity, digging out another of her plastic smiles, and sank with all the grace of a schooled courtesan onto the daybed and rearranged her emerald robe so it flared around her.

  Sargon could understand and forgive his father his weakness. Madame Lorraine was a supreme artist, able to model and fashion the very best instruments of desire. But the one thing Madame Lorraine could never do was manipulate a courtesan’s soul. That was the girl’s own choosing. And some courtesans were extremely dangerous, with the blackest intentions. They had the power to twist a man’s head and capture his heart for all the wrong reasons.

  Merriala feared the girls who entered Madame Lorraine’s because they signified something she would never have again, a dying youth she couldn’t accept losing. But the thing she feared most was the position a favored courtesan would have if she ended up in Sargon’s bed. Favored by the commander-in-chief was the one position denied his mother, the one position she’d coveted.

  “Don’t bother making yourself comfortable, Mother. I’m not staying long.”

  She sat up, her face showing her displeasure with her lips thinned into a line.

  “I wanted to know how you went with the council today.”

  “Why don’t you ask Archard?”

  Her eyes flared briefly before she managed to shutter her emotion.

  “You’re not the only one with an eye everywhere.”

  “I cannot mourn your father for the rest of my life.”

  “Did you mourn him at all?”

  She rose with the grace of a cat and came toward him. Without hesitation, she whipped her palm up to meet with his face, but he was quicker, grabbing her wrist and staying her action. He was willing to accept a slap from any woman if he deserved it.

  “You bastard. I loved your father.”

  “In your own way, perhaps you did. But your way is not particularly strong, now is it, Mother?”

  She recoiled from his hold but moved in close and craned up to meet him.

  “Don’t make an enemy of me, Sargon. I’m the only friend you have in the council. All wish to see your downfall. I’m the only one who can protect you.”

  “As always, Mother, you overestimate your influence.”

  “No, son. You underestimate mine.”

  She left him, gliding across the room and disappearing through the lift doors in a swirl of fabric.

  Sargon turned back to the window and breathed out held tension. The ache in his neck would soon move to his head. At times like these, he wished for the soothing hand of a courtesan. Someone who could bind a man’s pain within the alluring pleasure of her body and cleanse him free of all worries. But there was a reason Sargon had failed to take another courtesan after he granted the last her freedom—he trusted few, especially courtesans, given his mother had been the best.

  Chapter 8

  On the second knock, I opened my door and looked down at a small woman. I’d never seen an adult packaged in such a small size before. There were short people in Ladec but this woman was miniscule. She smiled up at me with dazzling white teeth, perhaps her strongest point. “You are to join Miss Tule in the dining hall. If you would please follow me.”

  “Oh, sure. Hold on a moment. I’ll just put my shoes on.” I’d fallen asleep on the way-too-comfortable bed shortly after falling flat onto my face, only finding enough time to flip off my shoes. I’d slept little the previous night, nor in the utility today. Despite being wired with nervous anticipation, once face-first on the bed, I remembered nothing until the knock at the door.

  After arriving at Miss Tule’s Academy for Girls, I’d been shown to my room and told to wait until someone came for me. My walk from the entrance to my room was all the tour I’d been given, but the place looked expansive enough and immaculately clean. I’d been led upstairs and along a balcony that overlooked a white-tiled courtyard. In the center was a large pool with the bluest water I’d ever seen. From high up, I could see colored tiles in the pattern of a mythical sea creature swirling from one corner of the pool bottom to the next. The green was the second biggest lure for me. It covered everything from the ivy that wrapped the pillars to the potted plants spread across the courtyard as if the outside had somehow found its way in.

  The little woman followed me into the room, waiting patiently with her hands clasped in front of her. I wanted to stare but averted my gaze and focused on lacing my boots. When I glanced up, I caught the distaste on her face as she looked at my shoes before she wiped it away with another white-toothed grin.

  “I’ll be taking those tomorrow morning…along with those.” She motioned with her finger at my clothes.

  “And what will I wear?”

  “You needn’t worry about that. All the girls wear the same thing while under training. I’ll be up to wake you first thing tomorrow with your clothes. They’re not fancy but at least you will be clean.” Her nose crunched up at the last. I looked down at my rust-hued clothes, which were looking a little tatty because of the amount of washes they’d been forced to endure.

  The small woman bustled over to me and took my hand, tutting while shaking her head. “This won’t do. We’ll need a great deal of cream to remedy the problem. I will teach you how to care for your nails properly. Miss Tule simply cannot abide her girls looking so shabby.” She turned my hand over. “And this”—she ran a finger over the surface of my palm—“is no good either. These are man’s hands. But nothing Marnena can’t fix.” She let my hand go and reached up to run her fingers through my hair, lifting it from my back as she inspected it, then letting it fall down again. “But this is good. There is much I can do with your hair. I could put a few highlights in to bring out the green of your eyes. Yes?”

  Was she asking my opinion? I’d never thought about my hair or nails before.

  “There are many things I will teach you. How to do your face so as to enhance your natural beauty.” She ran her fat finger down my left cheek. “How to wear your hair and the perfect place to apply the right amount of perfume. This is an ar
t, you know. It is important you look and act your best wherever you go. Miss Tule has a reputation to uphold.”

  “What is it I will be training for?”

  Marnena patted me on the shoulder. “All in good time, my dear. There is a lot you must learn. But Miss Tule is the very best tutor. You are in very good hands. And with me as well, of course.”

  She leaned over and kissed me on the head. It was such a natural gesture that I didn’t shy away. Mum wasn’t an overly demonstrative person, so Marnena’s physical affection, after having met her only minutes ago, stilled me.

  Marnena stepped away and waved her hand. “Come. One of Miss Tule’s first rules is punctuality. You mustn’t disappoint her on your first night.”

  I followed her out, closing my door behind me. There was little point in worrying about locking it. My only possession were the clothes I wore and they seemed set to disappear by tomorrow morning.

  We retraced the steps I’d taken earlier, with me casting another look over the balcony and down into the pool. Candles now surrounded the edge, outlining the contour in a shimmer of soft light. Lights from within the pool illuminated the colored swirl in the tiling on the bottom.

  A swelling in my chest, not too dissimilar to the thrill I used to feel when I was young, burst forth my question. “Do you think I will get a chance to try the pool out?”

  “Gracious, child, you mustn’t be thinking about that now. You have only just arrived.”

  “I’ve never seen water like it.”

  Marnena stopped on the next step down from me, which diminished her height even more than usual. “Of course. Sometimes I forget you are all foreigners.” She backtracked until she was on my step and took my hand. “All in good time, my dear. There is much to be discussed and learned before then.”

  She continued on down the stairs and along a walkway before stopping outside a giant double wooden door. She turned to survey me briefly, frowning slightly at what she saw, and then pushed open the doors. I entered to six pairs of eyes all trained on me.