Cruel Enchantment

by Janine Ashbless

  ‘Lady,’ said the man hoarsely. ‘Princess. Forgive me. I never meant to spy on you. I am not going to hurt you.’ He was recovering quickly from his first shock and now held his head up high. Jade saw his gaze flick around the room, looking for some means of escape, but it kept returning to her face.

  A little smile moved across her lips. The man took it as a good sign.

  ‘Are these yours?’ he asked, daring to grin crookedly at the bronze figures holding him. ‘You are well guarded, Princess. If I had known, I wouldn’t have chosen this way in to the palace. Forgive me, please. I never intended to frighten you.’

  His voice, though hoarse, was low and gentle. Jade climbed down from the bed and walked around to where he was held. The caryatids turned him to face her. She dragged the sheet with her as a sheath to cloak her slender nakedness but, under the silken-black gleam of her unbound hair, her amber shoulders and arms were bare. She stood within a pace of him, so close that he might have leaned forwards to touch her if he had not been gripped so tightly.

  Jade gazed up at the man’s face. He was somewhat taller than her and, she guessed, twice as old. His hair was sandy-brown and the stubble on his cheeks caught the lamplight and looked blond against his tanned face. She open her nostrils to breathe in the scent of him. She had never in her life before encountered a man who did not reek of perfume – but this one smelled like a man. It was a heady, dark, salty scent like clean leather, strange and yet pleasant. Jade allowed another smile to creep on to her lips. She decided she liked the look of this stranger. He was compactly built out of hard muscle and his brown eyes were keen.

  ‘Are you a thief?’ she asked, inclining her head.

  He held her gaze and attempted a wry shrug. It was almost possible to hear his mind working furiously as he replied, ‘They say in the city of Ilaun that no man can steal the Emerald Pendant of Yoharneth-Lahai. It was my ambition to prove them wrong, Princess. For three years I have been uncovering the safest route into the Palace and from there to the Imperial Treasure House. My path, sadly, led through your chamber.’

  Jade spared a glance at the litter of tools and rope that lay discarded near the window. She wondered what the man thought of her, so close to him and so flimsily clothed. Did he see a pretty girl, still a child, or a lovely young woman? Did her slight, small-breasted figure in its pale veil and its long cloak of hair speak to him of untouched pleasures? Or would he dismiss such inexperience as not worthy of his interest?

  Whatever he was thinking, he hid it beneath a studied mask of respect and self-deprecating trust. Even his diction was carefully honed.

  ‘What is your name?’ she asked.

  ‘Petrus,’ he said. ‘I am at your mercy, my Princess. If you should choose to give me up to the officials, I would be subjected to a terrible death. You cannot imagine the tortures that would be laid upon a thief caught in the Imperial Palace.’

  ‘You are mistaken,’ Jade told him coolly. ‘I know what they would do. I have seen it done before. You would be flayed across your back, chest, lower legs and palms, and then you would be taken out to the salt-pits beyond the city gates and thrown in.’

  It was like watching a light die in his eyes.

  ‘Princess …’

  ‘Do you know who I am?’ she enquired gently.

  He swallowed. ‘Princess Flower of Jade,’ he murmured. ‘Daughter of the Emperor.’

  ‘I am the eldest child of the Emperor,’ she corrected. ‘I am the Celestial Light of the People. The Diamond of Ilaun. The Golden Dove of the Twenty Kingdoms. And when my father is dead I shall be Empress.’

  Petrus bit his lip. ‘There has never been a ruling empress,’ he said. ‘And you have brothers.’

  Jade smiled benevolently, a smile she had practised in front of her mirrors until she knew it was devastating in its charm.

  ‘For now,’ she said. ‘But I will be Empress. And you are to be my first subject, Petrus.’

  She had him confined to her bathchamber. As she indulgently explained to him, there were seven rooms assigned to her in the palace, and of these only three were never visited by human servants. ‘If you were to be seen by anyone else, that would be the end for you. You cannot trust slaves. That is why I have Anima and Animus to serve my needs,’ she said, indicating the two caryatids as they dragged him into place at the back of the chamber. ‘They are quite sufficient for my present requirements – they are without speech, unswervingly loyal, and they make excellent guards. Do not bother to struggle, Petrus. I have kept the palace servants out of my bath and bedchambers for years. They know I require privacy. But I would not shout, if I were you.’

  The echoing, marble-walled chamber with its central circle of columns around the sunken bath was lit only feebly at this hour by the open skylight above the pool, through which the fat yellow moon was shining. But there were also five great metal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, each bearing a crown of candles. Anima released the long chain supporting one of these and lowered the ornate structure to within reach. The living statue broke and twisted the bronze fittings of the chandelier, wrapping them around Petrus’ wrists and securing the metal back upon itself. When the caryatid had finished, Petrus was held firmly in a standing position, his arms spread apart at head-height, his feet free but taking his weight. He was capable of moving no more than two steps in any direction before losing purchase on the smooth marble floor and swinging back on the length of the chain like a living pendulum.

  Anima crouched behind him at his feet, ready for action. Animus stood to the side holding the single lamp. Their terrible unbreathing stillness only accentuated the isolation of the room.

  ‘Comfortable?’ asked Jade sweetly. She was still holding the silk sheet around her with one hand. She had noticed that the raised position accentuated the muscles on Petrus’ arms and revealed the soft skin of the armpits beneath, fluffed with sandy hair.

  ‘What are you doing with me?’ Petrus asked. ‘Is this some game little rich girls play?’ He had gone quite pale and she could see sweat standing out under the untidy line of his ragged hair.

  ‘Ssh,’ she admonished, laying one finger on his lips. His stubble felt rough against her hand. Fascinated, she explored with her fingertips the hard line of his jaw and the softer skin beneath, the warmth of his neck and then the ridge of his larynx, hard as a peach-stone wedged in his throat. His hair was coarse to the touch as she wrapped it round her fingers, but the tuft under his right arm was soft as carded flax and he quivered under her cool hand.

  Petrus made a little noise in the back of his throat.

  She liked him. She liked the little lines under his eyes got from smiling in the sunlight, liked the pads of muscle over his cheekbones, the softness of his dry lips, the smell of him, the size of him. She liked the neat lie of the hairs on the back of his forearms, and the muscle beneath that felt hard as wood. He was twice her bulk, all meat and bone, but he was there at her whim for her to touch and explore. She laid one hand on his breastbone but her quest was blocked by the tough leather jacket he wore.

  ‘Anima,’ she said, stepping back. It was not actually necessary for her to vocalise but she sometimes did so out of natural habit.

  The feminine caryatid stepped over and tore the leather from Petrus’ torso as if it had been wet paper. The man flinched and the breath hissed over his teeth.

  Jade looked at his bared chest with pleasure and ran her hand over his ribs as if he were a beloved dog. The muscle definition on him even stretched to his belly; not soft and rounded like a woman’s but sculpted into ripples like the sand on a flat beach.

  ‘Princess,’ said Petrus. His voice sounded strained.

  She ignored him. She stroked the kite-shape of hairs that grew across his upper chest, tugging them softly. They were darker than the hairs on his head. His nipples were flat and pale brown. She wondered if they were as sensitive as her own and toyed playfully with one; when it responded within seconds to become a hard little pea of flesh she coul
d not help giggling to herself.

  Petrus bared his teeth and grunted. Jade took both nipples in turn in her fingers and pinched them, softly at first and then harder. When her nails bit in he shuddered under her touch as if an earthquake was shaking his body.

  ‘You are strong,’ she breathed. ‘And big.’

  She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart pounding. She pressed her face against him, exploring the extraordinary textures of his body with the sensitive skin of lips and cheeks. Softness of warm flesh, tickling little hairs, nipples hard and slippery under her tongue. He smelled of warm bread. She crouched to brush her lips across the skin of his belly and sides, found more hair leading from his navel down under the unkind edge of his trousers. Her shoulder rested against his crotch and she felt the hardness of the unseen member beneath it move suddenly and savagely.

  ‘Princess,’ said Petrus urgently, ‘if this is what you want, let me go. Oh, I can help you. Let me free. I can give you what you want. Just …’

  ‘Ssh,’ said Jade, distracted. She straightened to face him again, reached up to lay her cheek against his and let her body rest lingeringly against him. He tried to press into her but she would not push back. She rubbed her soft, golden cheek against his prickling stubble, eyes half-shut in an ecstasy of exploration and sensation. Her lips closed around the lobe of his right ear and she tugged the helpless morsel of flesh with her teeth.

  ‘Gods, you really need it, don’t you?’ he groaned. ‘You’re dying for it. Go on, let me give it to you. Let me give you what you want. I’ll show you. I’ll give it to you hard and long, Princess. Everything you want. Everything.’

  Her sharp little canine teeth sheared through flesh and met in his earlobe.

  He did not cry out, or pull away. He convulsed silently under her and she felt the damp heat of his sweat hit her like a wave. When she stepped back she found him pasty white and starting to shake.

  ‘Brave, too,’ she whispered.

  She kissed him gently and left his own blood on his lips.

  Then she walked away and went back to bed.

  Jade did not return to her prisoner until the following night, except for a brief visit at dawn just to instruct Anima to lower the chain so that he could rest on his knees. She had a full day planned. After dressing she breakfasted with her mother, the Emperor’s fourth wife, and, with her younger sisters and the female children of the concubines, she inspected the wares of a merchant who had brought in for their perusal goods newly arrived from up the river Yann. Slaves, silks, jewels and perfumes were the bulk of the merchandise on offer. The merchant, being a commoner and a man, was forced to kneel behind a screen in the Court of Women to call out his descriptions and explain the delights of his wares, while eunuchs carried or led the objects of trade before the assembled women.

  Jade bought nothing from the merchant in public except a small monkey in a red silk shirt. Two of her sisters commented audibly upon the great number of pets she had purchased in the last few years, and upon how few of them had ever been seen again. Jade made a mental note to herself, to be reviewed at an appropriate point in the future, but was not distracted from the next event of the day – the public beating of a slave-girl – and watched the proceedings with dutiful concentration.

  The objects she bought from the merchant once out of the public gaze were a heavily wrapped book and a very old, tarnished, silver ring, both of which she had instructed him to acquire for her. She was greatly pleased with both objects, and for several hours she sat upon the balcony beyond her bedchamber and read the book.

  She ate alone during the hottest part of the day, then spent the afternoon with one of the tutors she employed, a wizened old man who taught her the astrological lore of the ancient people of Runazar. And when the day had cooled she went down through the gardens to the river Yann with the oldest of the concubines, a woman who had always shown a special care for the young Princess, and they embarked on one of the royal boats. For three hours they watched the oarsmen row them up and down the river, while fanning themselves to encourage the sultry evening breeze and listening to one of the city’s poets who crouched blindfolded in the prow, earning his hire with words that few would have understood but many decent people had reviled.

  The blue night was settling on the palace by the time she finished dining with the concubine and returned to her rooms, humming to herself and absently stroking the monkey on her shoulder. Animus stood before the door to her bedchamber, arms akimbo, guarding it and the rooms beyond from any intruders. It slid aside as she entered, metallic limbs moving noiselessly, eyeless head turning to watch her.

  Jade deposited the monkey in its golden cage and stretched her arms. She felt sticky and unclean from the long day and ached for a bath. Slaves had already been sent to fetch water to her chambers. At the flick of a glance in its direction Animus picked up a lamp from the room and preceded her into the bathchamber to prepare the candles.

  By the time she entered that room, all the chandeliers but one were blazing and scented tapers were lit on every surface, filling the room with attar of roses. Reflected light gleamed from the white marble and green malachite surfaces. The water in the bath looked gold under the candle-flames as Animus poured bucket after bucket into its creamy depths.

  Petrus kneeled under the unlit chandelier, his head sunken on his breast. He raised it up when she entered, then pointedly looked away.

  Jade was wearing a gown of silk strands so loosely woven that although it draped her from neck to ankle her small nipples poked through between the weave and snagged upon the weft as she walked, a nagging friction that she found gently pleasurable. She walked without haste up to Petrus and looked at him solemnly. His head was at her breast height but he stared into the distance past her arm, his jaw set and his eyes hot with loathing. Dried blood was still tracked across his neck and shoulder.

  ‘Petrus,’ she greeted him, laying one hand along the line of his jaw. She could feel the muscles clench at her touch. ‘Would you prefer to stand up again?’ she asked.

  The eyes he turned to meet her gaze were bloodshot. ‘I need to piss,’ he said harshly. ‘And I need to drink.’ She could see that his lips were dry and cracked. Despite the marble vault in which he had been incarcerated, the day must have been hot for him, and very long.

  Jade turned to look for Anima. The caryatid was sprinkling flowers on to the warm waters in the bath; the white, waxy flowers of the Tree of Stars whose four stiff petals gave out such a perfume that it was said that bees would not forsake them to return to their hives, but hover lovesick around the tree until they died in the night. At her glance Anima ceased its task and brought over from the side of the bath a small bowl of fruit.

  Jade selected a pink, fleshy persimmon and held it to Petrus’ parched lips. ‘Drink,’ she said, squeezing it. The thick, sweet juice ran out between her fingers over his chin but he grimaced and made no attempt to suck the liquid. Jade shrugged and dropped the empty rind on the floor.

  ‘Stand up,’ she said. Anima instantly went round behind Petrus. While Animus shortened the chain to take the weight of the bronze chandelier, Anima hoisted the man from his knees to his feet. Petrus groaned in pain, his calves unable to brace themselves under him. The two caryatids freed him from his shackles and Anima simply propped him up in its cold bronze arms, supporting him as he slumped against its obdurate length.

  ‘You have made a mess,’ Jade observed and, gripped by impulse, she leaned into him and licked the pulp from his chin and chest with soft lapping motions. On her tongue she tasted both the sweet fruit and the salt of his sweat. Petrus groaned again.

  She pulled away with a smile, licking her lips, but when she saw his tightly shut eyes she turned towards her bath.

  ‘I have had quite a tiring day,’ she said conversationally, sliding the robe from her shoulders and stepping into the scented water below her. ‘It is nice to bathe and relax, don’t you think, Petrus?’

  She turned in the
water to smile up at him, and was gratified to see the man staring at her. But as soon as she glanced in his direction, he looked determinedly away, fixing his gaze upon Animus, who waited against the wall. Jade stretched out in the warm water, opening her legs to its caress and resting her head back on the rim of the bath.

  ‘Do you like them?’ she asked mischievously

  ‘What in the Seven Hells are they?’ he muttered.

  ‘They were sculptural bronzes. They used to support a fountain in the Court of Women. Then I summoned efrit to animate them.’

  He looked over at her blankly and she wriggled in the water beneath his gaze.

  ‘They make perfect slaves,’ she concluded.

  She could not hear his voice, but his lips painfully shaped the words ‘Oh, shit.’

  She ran her hands up and down her body lingeringly. It was not a lavish, fleshy body but she was proud of it and knew she was beautiful. She pushed her hand between her legs and rubbed the perfumed water into the petals of her sex, but somehow the aches of the day just seemed to grow worse.

  ‘Do you like me, Petrus?’ Jade asked, lifting her breasts so that they bobbed upon the surface of the water, stiff nipples pointing like fingertips. Flowers clung to her body. Her black hair spread through the water like mist or darkness.

  ‘Like you?’ He coughed; it might have been meant to be a bitter laugh. ‘I did think you were a poisonous little bitch-puppy. I must apologise. It turns out you are a black sorceress as well.’

  Jade laughed and wriggled over on to her stomach, her buttocks arching. Every part of her that broke the surface gleamed. Petrus was not even trying to look away from her now. She could feel the warm water pressing into her sex and see the rise and fall of his chest sharpening. Both facts delighted her.