The Daughters of Persephone, A Space Opera Special Edition

by Julia Barrett

  Sucking on his finger, he slid the knife back into the sheath. How the hells had she managed to acquire this? A blade made of Parsi steel could only have come from one place, the Empress’s treasure rooms. Likely the little sneak had stolen it from a member of the Empress’s entourage.

  He wondered what else the woman was guilty of. She’d stolen a knife, trespassed into the Royal pastures, mounted a stallion most men feared to approach, and baited him with a sly grin as she rode off.

  A corner of Aytan’s mouth turned up. He had to admit this red woman was a bold little thing.

  He watched her wince as she trotted across the pasture. He toyed with the notion of following and forcing her to tell him the truth about the knife, but he couldn’t. He had to wait. His cock felt about as hard as her godsdamned knife.

  Small though she might be, that round bottom of hers had felt bloody good beneath his palm. If he confronted her again he wasn’t certain he’d be able to stop his hands from feeling more of her lithe body, but he wasn’t about to add forced seduction to his sins.

  Aytan disliked the arrogant red women. Despite their obvious interest in him, he had never been with one. That didn’t mean he found them unattractive. On the contrary, the red women were lovely in face and form. But, as the stable lads joked, the red women liked to be on top.

  Aytan had spent enough time in their presence as a boy to know this was no joke. To be with a red woman meant giving up control. Aytan had no intention of losing control with a woman. He prided himself on his control when it came to his breeding program, even more so when it came to any woman in his bed.

  He watched the woman until she vanished over a slight rise. He wondered where she had come from and why he hadn’t seen her before. She’d obviously been around long enough to form a bond with the stallion. Aytan had heard of these blood bonds, but he’d never heard that they extended to animals.

  That must be how she did it. That was the only thing that made any sense. She’d blood-bonded with his stallion. Damn her. He’d see the Secretary of Visitations and make an appointment to speak with the Empress. At least he could return the blade to its rightful owner and he would insist the authorities hunt down this thief.

  Rising to his feet, Aytan adjusted his trousers. His cock still throbbed and that increased his anger towards her. How dare such an insignificant female give him the biggest hard-on he’d had in recent memory?

  Book IV: The Red Demon

  Tem leaned against a wall in her quarters, wolfing down a bowl of lamb stew. She was starving, her bottom stung and she needed a bath, but there was no doubt in her mind that the hot water she’d longed for just an hour ago was going to sting.

  What an infuriating man. A pity Kirrae is so valuable to the Empress Ya.

  As she ate, Tem entertained herself by envisioning what she would do when her vow to the Empress no longer held her. She’d shift into his quarters while he slept. She wouldn’t kill him, oh no, that would be too easy. Besides, alive he would make an interesting plaything.

  Once more she wished she’d been trained for combat along with her sisters, that she’d possessed the patience for it. If she was combat ready, he’d never have gotten the jump on her. Even if he had, she could still have turned the situation to her advantage and beaten him to a writhing pulp with her bare hands.

  Bloody yellow-haired darrok.

  Tem heard a knock at the door. Reluctant to move, she stood for a moment longer than was polite, finally pushing herself away from the wall. She threw open the door, half expecting to see said darrok. It was the Empress she found standing on her threshold, accompanied by two red-veiled attendants.

  Tem mentally kicked herself. The man had her so riled up she’d neglected to make a quick scan of her visitors.

  Tem inclined her head. “My Lady, I apologize for my slow response.”

  “May We enter?”

  “Of course.”

  The Empress dismissed her attendants, motioning for them to wait in the corridor. Tem ushered the older woman into the room and closed the door behind her.

  “We had hoped to see ye in the Great Hall this evening,” the Empress said.

  “I know. I’m sorry, my Lady, but something came up.”

  The Empress raised her eyebrows. Tem knew the woman had discerned her foul mood before she’d even opened the door. She looked away from the wise gray eyes and pulled up a chair. “Would you care to sit, Empress?”

  “Yes, thank ye. We tire easily of late. But We would not take thy chair.”

  “I prefer to stand.”

  “Ah, in that case We shall accept the kind offer. Ye were riding this afternoon, were ye?”

  “Yes.”

  The Empress studied her. “Ye encountered a difficulty with Our fine Kirrae?”

  Tem forced herself to meet the older woman’s gaze. “No, my Lady. The horse does very well. He is a magnificent beast.”

  “We are not asking after Our horse.”

  Tem sputtered for a moment and then dropped to her knees before the Empress. “Release me from my vow,” she said. “I wish to kill the man.”

  The Empress laughed. “Well, We are relieved to hear Our Master of the Horse survived the encounter. No, my dearest, ye may not kill him. He is a favorite of Ours. And Our women would be most aggrieved. The man is much admired about the palace.”

  “For what?” Tem jumped to her feet. “For behaving like a brute?”

  “When the occasion requires a brute, but also for his other fine qualities,” the Empress said. “Ye forget, Tem Bokinan, We know thee well. It may be that We know thee better than anyone in existence. Thy behavior through time has not always been above reproach. Ye have sacrificed for Our cause, yes, but ye have behaved in ways that could best be described as barbaric.” The Empress paused. “But then, in thy defense, ye were very young when Our cause was thrust upon ye.”

  Tem crossed her arms and paced the room. “I have only ever wanted your respect. I am estranged from my family. You, Lady, are the one constant in my life, the one person who has neither judged me nor feared me.”

  “And that is why ye will hold to thy vow and ye will remain with Us until We dismiss thee. Ye are much in need of a normal life, Tem.”

  “Then send me on another mission. I cannot ride again without encountering that pig, Master Kirrae. Send me off until he forgets about me. I will remain on my guard the next time I ride. I will avoid him altogether.”

  The Empres’s aged fingers toyed with the long string of amber beads she wore around her neck. “No. Ye have avoided confrontation over the years by either shifting through time or killing. It is not for nothing men name ye the Red Demon. That is how ye see thyself, is it not?”

  Tem strode to the window and stared out over the open courtyard. She had no desire to answer that question.

  “That is why ye came to Us, is it not? To be rid of thine own inner demons? Well, ye have made a beginning. Ye did not kill the man.”

  Tem snorted. “There is that.”

  “Aye.” The Empress laughed. “There is that. We believe it is time for ye to join in the formal training. Ye should know basic combat and We insist ye have formal riding lessons, perhaps with Master Kirrae as thy instructor.”

  Book IV: The Red Demon

  Aytan approached the Empress as she strolled about her gardens. He reached her just as she stopped near the fountains. The man dropped down on one knee and lowered his head.

  “Ye have requested an audience, Master Kirrae?”

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  “Ye may rise, Master of the Horse.” The Empress greeted him with a kiss on each cheek. “How goes Our breeding program? Matters of State have kept Us occupied and it has been some time since We have visited Our stables.”

  “My Lady, you are welcome to visit your stables any time you wish. My men are always prepared for your arrival.” Aytan hesitated. Perhaps the Empress did not want to hear about such a trivial issue. He had dealt with the intruder. He was quite sure
she would not be back. Still, there was the matter of the knife.

  “There is something ye wish to discuss?” When he remained silent, the older woman prodded him. “Master Kirrae, there is something ye wish to ask Us? It seems ye have not come to talk horses.”

  His movements slow and even so as not to startle the Empress’s guardians, Aytan’s hand moved to his belt. He lifted the knife, still covered by its sheath, and presented it to the Empress. “It is a blade, my Lady, crafted of the finest Parsi steel. I’m guessing it belongs to you. I know of no other who would possess such a rare treasure.”

  “Ah.” The Empress reached out a hand and took the blade from him. She held it with reverence. “Yes, my friend, We did indeed possess this blade.” She pulled the steel knife partway from its sheath. “Truly, it is a treasure, is it not? See how the sunlight reflects off the etching?” The woman peered into his eyes. “How did ye come by it?”

  “I took it from a thief and a trespasser. I found her in your pastures and drove her off. She left the blade behind. I can’t imagine how she managed to sneak it out of the palace.”

  “The blade was a gift to a dear friend of Ours. It has not been in the Treasure Room for some time.”

  “I thought as much, my Lady,” replied Aytan. “She must have stolen it from your friend. I’ll send one of my men to fetch the owner, if you wish.”

  The Empress appeared to consider his offer. “What of this thief? This woman who got in amongst Our horses?”

  Aytan couldn’t hide his smile. “She won’t be back. I have seen to that.”

  “Is that so? How can ye be certain?”

  “I imagine she will be too sore for riding for quite some time.”

  “Ye used brute force on a woman?” The Empress’s eyebrows flew up.

  “No more than was necessary to punish the little thief. I caused her no permanent harm. She had made off with your stallion, my Lady. She could have injured both herself and the horse. She might have gotten herself killed.”

  The Empress turned to stroll down a garden path. Aytan followed a few steps behind.

  “Did ye not think to bring her before the Magistrate?”

  “I considered this to be a matter of little import. Would you have preferred to see the woman in court, my Lady? I fear the punishment meted out by the judges would be much more severe than paddling her bottom.”

  The Empress burst into delighted laughter. “Paddling her bottom, ye say?”

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  “Master Kirrae, ye do know how to amuse an old woman.” She stopped and motioned for him to stand beside her. She took his arm. “Help Us to a bench, young man.”

  Aytan assisted the Empress to sit. The regal old shoulders continued to shake with laughter.

  “We have heard much in Our time, but this…” She shook her head. “Do ye have any notion whose bottom ye paddled?”

  The Horse Master crossed his arms. “A small red woman,” he scoffed. “She didn’t wear the veil and she wasn’t one of your fighting women. She was no one I’ve noticed in the palace.”

  “We know of whom ye speak. Yes, We can see how ye might miss this one. No, she does not wear the veil, nor is she one of Our fighting women, as ye call them, but Master Kirrae this small red woman could have killed ye in the blink of an eye.”

  “Kill me?” It was Aytan’s turn to laugh. “She could not even manage to kick me, let alone kill me.”

  The Empress lifted her red veil and Aytan could clearly see the mischief in her eyes. “Ye and all Our people inhabit Persephone today because of this small red woman. Ye may be the only man in history to spank a demon and live to tell the tale.” She laughed again.

  The Empress’s words made no sense.

  “A demon?” Aytan’s snort was dismissive. “There is no such thing, my Lady. Demons are nothing more than tales told to frighten children.”

  “Oh, on the contrary, Master Kirrae, Our demon exists and fortunately for the likes of ye, she has promised to refrain from killing any of Our subjects. Here.” She held out the blade to him. “Take this. Ye shall seek out this diminutive demon and return Our gift to her.”

  Aytan hesitated, his fists clenched at his side. He couldn’t read the Empress. Perhaps she was teasing, perhaps not. “One of my men might be the better choice. I suspect this woman has no wish to see my face.”

  The old Empress’s eyes twinkled as she replied, “Oh no, Master Kirrae, one of thy men will not do. Ye must go to her.”

  “But my Lady, I have very little free time and—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “We so order. Only ye. Ye have opened a door, Master of the Horse, whether wittingly or unwittingly, and it is too late to close it.”

  Aytan accepted the knife with reluctance. “Where do I find this…?” He found it hard to speak the words. “Where do I find this demon, my Lady?”

  “Tem. The demon’s name is Tem Bokinan. Ye may find her in her quarters in the Sun Wing of the palace. She sleeps in the last room at the end of the blue corridor. Ye can find the way, can ye not, Master of the Horse?” The Empress waved a hand. “Ye are dismissed.”

  Aytan nodded and backed away, his head lowered.

  “Oh, and Master Kirrae, ye had better hurry. We plan to give her an assignment and she will be leaving the palace tonight. She will want her blade.”

  Book IV: The Red Demon

  Tem stared out the window. She’d awakened from a restless sleep, her body sore, her mind in turmoil. She couldn’t ride and the Empress had not yet agreed to her request to fly. She had thought to spend some time on Eir Eidan, perhaps train with the Red Women there. It would be good for her. The encounter with the Master of the Horse had pointed up that glaring deficiency. It seemed as if the more time she spent with the Empress on Persephone, the more holes she discovered in her own training and her own life.

  Feeling a sudden shift behind her, Tem spun on her heels expecting to find the Empress or perhaps even her mother standing there. Heart pounding, she jumped out of the way. “Issa?”

  “Yes. I’ve been searching all of time for you, sister.”

  Speechless, Tem stared at her for a few moments. At last she said, “Sister, is it? I assumed I would be the last person you would want to see.” She inclined her head, nodding at Issa’s flat abdomen. “You’ve birthed the child. How is he?”

  “He’s why I’ve come. My baby is sick, Tem. He’s dying.”

  Crossing her arms, Tem turned her back on her protégé, the Thousand Year Empress, the woman she’d once thought of as her own little sister. She remembered how Issa had turned her back on her.

  She had her reasons, and they were damned good ones. She was wise to flee from me.

  Tem spun around to face her. “You knew the risks of bearing a son, Issa.”

  Tears flowed down the younger woman’s cheeks. “I knew the risks, but that doesn’t mean I want to lose my child.” Sobbing, Issa fell to her knees. “Please, Tem, you are the only one who can help him. I no longer have the power and Kane hasn’t the training. Please. I’m begging you to come forward with me, to save my son. Please save my son.” Issa reached for Tem’s hand, pressing it against her forehead. “You’ve seen his potential. Save him because of what he can do for humankind, if for no other reason.”

  Tem knelt alongside the younger woman, tears filling her own eyes. She wrapped her arms about her. “Issa, listen to me. Please don’t prostrate yourself before me. I’ll come with you because he’s your son. I’ll do whatever I can to save his life. Don’t beg and don’t plead. You are the Thousand Year Empress. It is beneath you.”

  “Nothing is beneath me,” Issa cried. “I would crawl on my hands and knees through the black flames of the lowest of the Seven Hells of Wrath to save the life of my son.”

  Tem’s hand automatically reached for the handle of her knife, but she touched only her belt. Why didn’t she feel the beaded sheath? Then she remembered. Aytan Kirrae had it.

  “Issa, give me your knife. We go t
ogether and we go fast.”

  Issa leaned back and drew her knife. Tem accepted the blade from Issa’s shaking hands. She sliced deep into her own palm then cut into Issa’s. She twined her fingers through Issa’s, pressing their bleeding hands together, mingling their blood, and she shifted them both four thousand years into the future.

  Tem fought the usual head-spinning nausea that accompanied a rapid jump either forward or backward in time. She had grown accustomed to the sensation over the years. Her hand held tight to Issa’s, and she could feel the blood pulse between them, but for some reason she couldn’t breathe. A great weight lay across her chest, suffocating her.

  Eyes still closed to decrease the sickness, she freed her other hand and reached up to feel whatever lay on top of her. Tem’s eyes flew open as her fingers touched solid flesh, man flesh. A very hard man lay atop her. At the sound of a low groan beside her ear she dropped Issa’s hand.

  “By the gods,” Tem wheezed. “Get off me, you big darrok.” Using all her strength, she rolled the man away and glanced at Issa, making certain she’d managed the quick shift all right.

  Clutching her belly, Issa rose to her knees. She pointed to the man beside Tem. He chose that moment to moan. “Who is that and how in the seven hells did he get here?”

  Tem brushed the hair from her face and sat back on her heels. “That is the Empress Ya’s Master of the Horse, Aytan Kirrae. He must have somehow hitched a ride in the field we generated. He’s a bloody ass, and now I’ll have to save his bloody ass.” She stuck out a hand. “Your knife… I need to adjust his blood chemistry or he’ll die. It wouldn’t much bother me, but the Empress might be upset.”

  Issa passed over her knife. The two women rolled the semi-conscious Horse Master onto his back. “Kirrae,” Tem hissed in his ear. “This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”

  After slicing once more into her palm and then cutting his, she pressed their bleeding hands together, allowing her blood to heal him from the shock of time travel. She concentrated on healing herself as well. Issa did the same.