Uttering an annoyed breath, she asked, “Why are you pushing me away?”
“You hurt me tonight.” He almost choked on the words. Hurt didn’t remotely encompass the shame and humiliation he suffered due to her jealousy.
“You were flirting with that woman.” Her sultry voice swerved swiftly to condemnation, as if he’d asked for her abuse.
“Her name is Enovese, and I was not flirting with her. I only danced with her as you did with Chur.” That was the heart of the matter; he was supposed to trust her with Chur, but Kasmiri refused to trust him with any woman but herself. He had to expose her double standard now or it would never end.
“I am the future empress. I will do as I please.” With that edict, she rolled over to the far side of the bed, taking most of the covers with her.
For a long moment, Sterlave considered continuing to play this childish game. He wanted her. His entire body raged for him to roll over, grab her, pin her hands to the bed, and take her as forcefully as he had in the basin room. If he tormented her long enough, denying her fulfillment, she would apologize with breathless sincerity. However, he did not trust her word in such a moment of passion. He needed her to express regret of her own free will, not because he’d beleaguered it out of her.
Ignoring his stiff prick, he burrowed into his pillow, and said, “You may be the future empress, but you still need me to fill your belly with a child. Let me know when you are ready to ask for my forgiveness.”
Kasmiri sat up, yanking all the covers off him. “You expect me to exonerate you for your impertinence?”
Since the ceiling was open, cold harvest air prickled his skin. His cell in the training rooms was stark but not this cold. When he next saw Rown, he would ask him how to close the damn ceiling. Shivering, he sat up and placed the puffy pillow over his genitals.
“I expect you to apologize for the wrong you did to me.” As a youth, he’d never been in a position to demand such, but he would be damned if he would let Kasmiri treat him like her servant.
Kasmiri leaned close, her breath hot against his freezing skin. “I own you. Dare you defy me and I will have you bound so I can take from you what I need.” Even in the shadows, her eyes glistened with appalling determination.
Pouncing upon her, grasping her hands and forcing her to lie flat below him, Sterlave said, “You do not own me. If I have to, I will milk myself every hour until there is nothing left for your dark harvest.”
Gasping, shocked by his dominant position, Kasmiri struggled, pushing at his arms with ineffectual power. His sheer size and weight afforded him control.
“You may be the future empress, but I will not allow you to force me to your ends. Do you hear me?” He wasn’t a frightened boy anymore. He’d struggled and suffered, and now he demanded respect.
“Get off me!” Panic spun her voice to a harsh edge of alarm. Below him, she fought, twisting and turning her body against his.
“Struggle, Kasmiri, and you’ll only excite me more.” He planted his mouth to hers, forcing his tongue between her pressed lips. “Isn’t this what you want?” Trapped below the covers, he thrust against her forcefully splayed thighs with sinful intent. “I’m your stud servant, am I not?”
“How dare you?!” Kasmiri fought him vigorously, but she could do little against his strong body.
“I dare because I will not succumb to your allure or allow you to force me. You will say you are sorry or we will never have sex again.” He couldn’t believe he’d threatened her so grandly, but he intended to keep his word, even if it drove him mad. She did not own him and she could not treat him shabbily. He refused to let her get away with her bad behavior.
He rolled off her and the bed. Shivering, he grabbed the dressing robe from the floor and several fur rugs. A long couch against the far wall would be a perfect temporary bed until Kasmiri realized he would not relent.
9
Kasmiri sat alone in her bed and considered calling the guards. She quickly dismissed the idea. Once they entered, what would she order them to do: bind Sterlave to her bed so she could have her way with him? It was bad enough her behavior tonight had embarrassed her family name for generations to come. She certainly didn’t need people thinking she had to force her consort to have sex with her.
All she had to do was apologize. Once she did, Sterlave would happily share her bed again. Even though she knew he was right, that she had hurt him terribly tonight, she couldn’t swallow her pride and say she was sorry. If it came down to a battle over which one could go the longest without contact, she was certain he would give in first.
“I’m not going to apologize,” she called out.
“Fine. I hope you enjoy sleeping alone.” Sterlave turned his back on her.
“I’ll have Rown tie you down.” Even as she said it, she knew it was a ridiculous idea. Sterlave could hold off Rown with one mighty arm.
Sterlave laughed. “You’ll have to drug me first. If you want to have children with three eyes and horns, go ahead and pump me full of chemicals.”
Kasmiri gripped the covers in a crushing fist. He was right. Drugs were not the best idea, and force would only get her so far. A sudden smile lifted her face. She didn’t need force. What she needed was exactly what she had—a lush, desirable body. Curling to her side, she thought of all the ways she could tempt him. In a quarter cycle, he would be drooling at her feet.
When she put her mind to it, she could charm any man. A slight frown crossed her face. Any man except Chur, her mind whispered. He obviously had bizarre notions of female beauty since he chose a paratanist as a bondmate. What normal man would want to swear himself eternally to a servant? Absurd! She almost laughed as she pictured herself bonding to Rown.
Enovese might be beautiful but once everyone knew she was an untouchable servant of the lowest class, they would shun her and, in turn, eschew Chur. Kasmiri’s mother told her she could not insist they leave, but Kasmiri would make their life in the palace so unpleasant they would gladly leave on their own.
Despite her mother’s warning, Kasmiri did not need their help. An empress ruled alone. Doubt crept in because her weary mother had suddenly grown animated with fury, and bellowed, “You are going to befriend them both! You don’t understand what changes their relationship brings!”
Kasmiri nodded, trying to soothe her mother, but when Clathia started spouting twaddle from the Harvest prophecy, Kasmiri turned a deaf ear. It took all her will not to roll her eyes. She did not want to hear any more of that nonsense. Time after time, her mother bent her to her will by quoting the prophecy and filling her head with doom and superstition.
Kasmiri was a bonded woman now, too old for such tales. Enovese and Chur were like any other couple. As to the remarkable transformation of Chur, Kasmiri had no idea, but she simply didn’t believe the gods themselves had turned him into a demigod. She didn’t accept the explanation because she didn’t believe in the gods. All her life she’d performed an endless series of rituals to invoke their goodwill and nothing happened. Her mother said it was about faith, but Kasmiri had lost hers long ago. Yes, Chur had changed, but there had to be a logical explanation.
As she thought back on what ruined the evening, she realized she wasn’t jealous about Sterlave and Enovese. What infuriated her was that everyone liked Sterlave with an instant ease that she had never possessed.
Tucking the pillow below her head, she tried to hold back tears but couldn’t. She had no true friends in the palace. The girls her age never warmed up to her and the men only wanted something from her. No one ever liked her just for her.
Sterlave had inspired a close bond with Chur as evidenced by his warm and welcoming hug. Chur was genuinely glad to see Sterlave, but not her. Within moments, Sterlave had charmed Enovese and Rown. Rown clearly had a crush on him, but he also worried about him. Rown had looked stricken when he thought something had gone wrong with the bonds. She would never forget the terror on his face as he ran to release him.
Not once has anyone been tha
t concerned for me. No longer could she convince herself that the women were all jealous of her riches or her station. Rown served her with implacable skills, but when she railed at him, he cringed and hung his head for days, unwilling to meet her gaze. Even her consort had easily turned away from her. As much as she wanted to place the blame outside herself, she had to face the facts. People didn’t like her because of her behavior.
Tears of self-pity moistened the pillow so she turned it around to find a dry spot. How did Sterlave inspire such instant camaraderie? If she imitated him, she might be able to break free from her isolation. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. What if she failed? She would be exposing her heart to tremendous pain. But what if she succeeded? She would have friends with whom she could share her joys, her pains, and her regrets.
With a sigh, she realized if she wanted to change, she would have to start with Chur and Enovese. If she could befriend them, she could befriend anyone. Just the thought of being kind to that woman caused her to clench her jaw. Maybe she should start closer to home. Rather than seducing Sterlave, perhaps she could try being nice to him.
He’ll laugh in your face, her mind whispered. He doesn’t want to be your friend; he wants to use you for his pleasure.
Kasmiri shook the voice away. Sterlave was not a heartless monster. How could he be when everyone simply adored him? Even her mother remarked on his congenial regard and how attentive he was to Kasmiri during the celebration. If he could charm her mother, he could charm anyone. Even herself, because she realized she didn’t want to be at odds with him.
“Sterlave?” Her voice sounded terribly loud in the darkness.
He didn’t move. When she listened, she heard soft snoring. Seemed her plans would have to wait for morning. Sleep came easily once she decided tomorrow would be her first day of change.
Freezing air and pale morning light woke her. Shivering, she left her bed, pulled on her robe, and closed the ceiling. Rown entered with another platter of food for the table.
“How are you this morning?” she asked with a bright smile.
Rown glanced around, realized she was speaking to him, flashed her a dubious smile, and said, “I am fine, my mistress.”
It wasn’t quite the response she wanted, but people were not going to accept her new attitude overnight. When she glanced at the couch, she found a tumble of furs but no Sterlave. She didn’t hear water splashing in the bathing unit or see him anywhere within her rooms.
“Where has Sterlave gone?” When Rown flinched at her demanding tone, she softened her voice. “I’m not angry, I’m just curious.”
“He did not say, but he took two niclas with him.”
“Thank you.”
Rown bowed and left.
Kasmiri settled at the table to review her schedule and eat. As she scrolled down the items, she slumped. A glut of celebrations and endless meetings met her eyes. Her brief reprieve from her hectic schedule was over and demands upon her time reemerged like a festering wound. Often she spent two or three days with little sleep, less food, and no exercise.
An emergency summons flashed. Her mother needed her now.
As much as she wanted to track Sterlave down and apologize, she didn’t have time. She ate quickly, cleaned up, dressed in a simple wrap-around dress, applied minimal makeup, and secured her hair with a clip at the back of her neck.
Rushing through the maze of hallways, she entered her mother’s suite and skidded to a halt.
On a couch in the main room, clad in her galbol climbing outfit, her mother lay motionless. No breath lifted her chest. Her eyes were open, sightlessly centered on the ceiling.
Dread held her back, but a perverse curiosity drew Kasmiri closer. She noticed a huge gash in her mother’s stomach. Once she blinked back tears of horror, she noticed flakes of gray, knotty bark outlined the hole. Kasmiri knew at once that she’d fallen on one of the sharp branches of a galbol tree.
Had they found her dangling, so damaged they didn’t bother to start emergency procedures because nothing they could do would help her? No medical equipment surrounded her, but they had removed her safety gear.
Climbing the soaring trees was her mother’s favorite sport. She said obtaining the top of the trees, which often took three days or more, was like taking flight over the world.
Kasmiri often joked she could get the same effect by flying in her Golden Bird, but her mother said the sensation was not the same. Once she broke through the thickly netted tops, she could feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her face. She said slinging herself between branches to sleep, and eating only what she could carry in a small pack upon her back, made her feel more alive than anything else in the world.
Kasmiri had never told her, but she admired her mother’s adventurous spirit. Only once had Kasmiri joined her on a climb. The base of the tree was enormous, as big as her rooms five times over, and spindly branches stuck out like spikes, growing larger as they went up the trunk. Kasmiri had started with grand hopes but the height terrified her, causing her breathing to accelerate, and her palms to sweat so profusely she couldn’t hang on to the branches. It took three bulky guards to help her back to the ground.
Several advisors warned of the danger, but her mother dismissed them with an annoyed wave of her hand. Kasmiri hadn’t climbed since she was a girl, but she knew her mother never climbed without her safety harness.
“Did you remove her gear?” Kasmiri asked the air because she couldn’t take her eyes off her mother’s broken form. How could someone so vital be suddenly so still?
One of the health professionals cleared her throat. “She had no harness on.”
Kasmiri lifted her gaze and considered the slender woman. Glossy red hair curled around her face, highlighting clear gray eyes that were studious yet compassionate.
“My mother never climbed without taking precautions.” Anger built inside, churning her belly, turning what little food rested there to stone. “Someone removed it and I want to know who.”
Blank faces met her furious gaze. Finally, the woman with the kind eyes spoke. “There is some indication her fall wasn’t an accident.”
Kasmiri rounded on her. “Of course it was an accident! My mother would not have injured herself!” Such a suggestion was ludicrous. Her mother was strong. Clathia met every problem in life with fierce determination.
Calmly, the woman met her gaze and straightened her shoulders. “Your mother was facing an incurable disease that would have slowly ravaged her system until it reduced her to a shell of her former glorious self.”
Her mother was ill? Kasmiri had no idea. Was that why her mother had been so anxious to see her bonded so that the family line was secure? All her desperate actions suddenly made perfect sense. Regret for her horrible behavior threatened to drop her to her knees and beg her lifeless mother for forgiveness. Had she known of her mother’s struggle, she would have been more kind. Now it was too late.
“Perhaps now is not the time to discuss this,” said a short, thin man with a sparse sprinkling of brown hair.
Kasmiri followed his gaze to the entryway.
The magistrate, Ambo Votny, waddled into the room. Huffing and puffing, he too stopped dead when he saw Clathia. “What has happened?” His already bulbous eyes bulged further as his skin washed pale against his silver uniform. He approached the body with surprisingly delicate steps. “Oh, Clathia, I told you climbing those trees was dangerous.”
“My mother is dead yet you stand there and berate her on her way to Jarasine?” Kasmiri slapped his face. Row after row of blubbery chins shook from the blow.
Ambo clutched his cheek. His eyes narrowed to slits and his upper lip twitched. “You round on me when you tormented her every step?”
Outraged by his accusation but more so by the truth behind it, Kasmiri launched herself at him. She’d only managed two slaps and a kick before the guards pulled her away. Still, she struggled, slapping, kicking, and screaming. Despair and rage battled within, ca
using tears to stream down her face, but her body would not rest. She wanted to destroy. To rail at the sky. To collapse into a heap, then hide under her mother’s empress cape.
Her desire for change had come too late to include her mother. All the hateful, harmful, destructive things she’d ever said or done to her mother filled her mind in a montage of ugliness.
“Calm yourself, Kasmiri.” Ambo straightened his stained and wrinkled trousers with trembling fingers. “An empress must comport herself with dignity and grace at all times.”
Shock drained everything from her mind. “I am now the empress?” She had always known this day would come, but not this soon. She imagined her mother would be on the throne until her hair turned white and grandchildren played at her feet. Now, Clathia would never see even one grandchild. Oh gods, if she did not have a girl child within two seasons, the challenges from the other houses would begin in earnest.
Kasmiri wanted to run. She wanted to find Sterlave, beg his forgiveness, and then swiftly lose herself in his passionate embrace. Let the world pass her by as she wallowed in ecstasy. Duty and responsibly had always dragged her steps, but now they caught her firmly in their unrelenting grips.
“We must perform the coronation ceremony at once.” Ambo issued instructions to his servant, a whey-faced young man with thick white hair and mismatched eyes. Once the boy understood, he scampered off.
“We have not even performed the rites of passage for my mother.”
Ambo nodded, compassion softening his tone. “I am sorry, Kasmiri, but your first act as empress will be to oversee that most tragic ritual.”
Sterlave stepped into the training rooms. When he took a deep breath, he smelled sweat, leather, and a slight tang of blood. He smiled. The essence of the room was as familiar to him as his own skin. He’d only been gone for a few days but it seemed a lifetime. His body begged for exercise.
The elevated square platform, where he had challenged Chur for the right of Harvester and lost, was gone. A few battered mats for barehanded wrestling took up the space.
Dark Harvest Page 10
