by J. C. Owens
He reached out to wrap his fingers around the back of Natlien’s neck, urging him down, watching as the young concubine eagerly unlaced his pants, pushing the flaps aside and reaching for his prize. Plump lips stretched obscenely around his rapidly hardening shaft, and he let out a groan of sweet pleasure.
Reaching out, he snagged Hredeen, pulling him close to plunder his mouth. No one tasted like his favorite, nobody else could make him lose all thought and just feel.
Hredeen knelt beside him, leaning down over him, eyes alight with need, deepening the kiss into a duel of tongues, an orgy of taste that left Taldan wanting more. Always more.
With a forceful push, Taldan toppled Hredeen backward onto the couch. The concubine sprawled, laughing, spreading his legs and giving Taldan a glimpse of secrets beneath the shifting cloth of his light, flowing garments.
Naitlien hummed around his length, and he had to fight to focus on what he sought so avidly.
His long fingers closed around Hredeen’s shaft, and he gave a tug and twist that made the concubine gasp, eyes turning dark and sultry, fixed upon his face with complete intensity. When Taldan was present, it was as though nothing else existed for Hredeen, and as always, it made the prince feel as though he already ruled the world.
He quickened his fist, alternating his grip between firm and almost feather light, turning his wrist every now and then in the way that never failed to make his favorite moan, the sound making Taldan’s lust rise to a fever pitch.
The heat of a talented mouth upon him, the feel of his favorite under his hand, the sight of Hredeen writhing, his heels digging into the couch as he thrust up into his prince’s grip…
He controlled himself until he saw the incredible beauty of Hredeen as he came, body arched, face alight with pleasure, then he himself found release, feeling Naitlien drink his seed with consummate skill. The pulses of pleasure drove away the concerns of the day, and he drew in a shuddering breath as the last of the pulses left him drained and replete.
Releasing Hredeen’s now tender shaft, he ran his fingers through the cooling seed upon his favorite’s chest and belly, bringing the bounty to his lips and tasting the very essence that was his concubine.
Hredeen forced himself up, eyes gleaming at the sight, and sank against Taldan’s side, holding him close in the aftermath.
Taldan hummed with contentment, lying down and pulling Hredeen close, possessive, one hand gently carding through Natlien’s curls on his other side. Warm, cocooned in their care, he slipped into sleep at long last.
The corridors were deserted, illuminated only by the faint light from the morning sun still beyond the horizon as Taldan walked from the harem back to his chambers.
Taldan relished the solitude. This was his favorite time of day, when most people were safely abed and out of his way. Even his father would be asleep.
The sound of his boots, muffled by the long carpets that graced the hall floors, seemed inordinately loud. In contrast, the footsteps of his two Shadows, Nie and Weis, who paced behind him, were utterly silent.
He had been lax in his training as of late. In his younger years, he had been able to match that silence with his own, but the rigors of being the High Imperial Prince had taken him away from the training, and he had found many new interests, most of them far from martial.
He would have to make time for re-training before he stepped up as emperor. He was not sure if he would have more time or less after ascending the throne. His father made the role look so simple, so flawless, but Taldan had spent a lifetime watching every move his father made, and he was well aware that the complexity of the task was far beyond what he envisioned.
There were so many things that his father never shared with him that he refused to tell him.
Part of that was simply logical caution. There had been times in Anrodnes history when sons had tired of waiting for the throne and had staged a coup or an attempted assassination. His bloodline, after all, was full of intense, driven people who had been born to rule.
He thought the notion absurd. He respected his father deeply. The man was an emperor to his fingertips, and Taldan would strive to reach that pinnacle—and then surpass it.
His focus was going to be quite different than his father’s. He held no intention of adding more lands to the empire, as had been his father’s goal when he’d first taken the throne. In the last dozen or so years, the empire had ceased expanding its borders and worked on consolidating its gains and reducing its military expenditures.
Instead of expansion, Taldan wanted to improve things within the empire itself. Content people did not start rebellions. If their circumstances were so much better than the neighboring countries, then there was no reason for such a thing.
Constant conflicts drained the empiric coffers. Peace and prosperity brought about trade, and that, Taldan felt, gave them the most power possible. He planned on the lure of trade bringing a great deal of monetary gain to Anrodnes in the near future. Not to mention that Anrodnes controlled one of the three great trade routes.
His father might not approve, but then Taldan did not really concern himself with that matter. He would be emperor. His power would be absolute, and his plans were his own, not to be shared, even as his father had not shared his own methods and reasoning.
He had been well taught that family was merely a means to an end. Children to carry on the succession. It had not been uncommon in the past for royalty to kill their siblings to prevent coup attempts.
He also thought that absurd, a remnant of their tribal past that he felt they had long since passed. Or perhaps he was just fortunate in his younger brother. Zaran held nothing of ambition to rule. He had his own interests and supported Taldan quietly and efficiently. There was a link between them that none of the ancient texts seemed to explain. Taldan himself felt a warmth when his brother was present, a feeling of companionship that he had only ever experienced with Naral.
Whatever dynamic had existed between the royals in the past, he and Zaran walked their own path.
Their innate trust of each other felt right in a part of himself that he seldom delved into. An emotional side that made little sense.
Weis suddenly put a hand on his arm, breaking him out of his thoughts and drawing him to an abrupt halt.
Nie stepped ahead of them, drawing his sword with swift, deadly efficiency, while Weis drew Taldan back several steps.
Despite all his training, despite the basic magical essence that the royals inherited, Taldan could not sense what the Shadows did. Their training was secretive. Not even the emperor knew what it entailed, but their mystical abilities pointed to earth energy that no one outside the Shadows had any true knowledge of. Only rumors and whispers.
Now, he stood silent in Weis’s grip, his hand on his sword’s pommel, ready.
Nie stepped forward, head cocked, listening, before he disappeared silently round the corner like a wraith.
Weis’s eyes were unfocussed, as though he were tracking Nie’s movements in some fashion.
Taldan longed to understand how and why, but he knew better. This was one thing he could not study and dissect.
His own breathing seemed loud in his ears, the silence pressing upon him.
Weis finally released his hold on Taldan’s arm, his body relaxing somewhat.
“There seems to be an altercation between two men ahead, my prince. Should we divert to another route?”
Taldan frowned. “Altercation? Who is part of it? Is security aware?”
“The elder Lord Yoldis and his younger brother, one of the candidates. Nie has contacted one of our brothers to alert security forces. It will quietly be taken care of. You need not be involved.”
* * *
Raine
“You are a disgrace to our name,” Parsul hissed, dragging Raine closer until they were face to face, Raine half choking as he struggled to loosen Parsul’s grip upon the collar of his tunic.
“All I asked of you was one simple task. Get the
attention of the imperial high prince. Get into his bed and sweet-talk him into allowing us our little adventure where everyone profits, our family most of all. Simple. So damned simple. But of course, you have to over-think every fucking thing. Talking back to Zaran of all things. You never shut your fucking mouth for more than a minute.”
He shook Raine like a dog shakes a rat, rage contorting his features.
He slammed Raine back against the wall with such force that the air was forced from Raine’s lungs and he gasped for air, collapsing as his brother released him contemptuously to slide to the floor.
Raine curled away, fighting for breath, his vision swimming.
The brutal kick made him cry out despite his determination to stay stubbornly silent. Pain exploded over his ribs, and he rolled away, gritting his teeth and trying to curl around the pain, to protect himself.
He was all too familiar with such things.
Parsul crouched before him, the seething anger in his expression making Raine’s breath hitch. “You are a useless waste of skin, brother. Useless. Father was ashamed to call you son, and we all know why, don’t we? The list is so long it’s amazing he let you live, let you use our name.”
He grinned, a demon’s smile. “I think some time serving clients at a brothel as I suggested earlier might finally break that stubborn will, don’t you think?” The smile faded away, a hand coming to trace over Raine’s cheek with exquisite gentleness. “One last chance, little brother. You see my will done, or I will see you broken, shattered into pieces that will come together into something I can use. Is that clear?”
Raine nodded shakily.
Parsul’s hand was swift, Raine’s throat in his grip with crushing force. “It better be, you—”
“What, precisely, is going on here?”
Parsul froze, releasing his grip, then slowly swiveled in his crouch, looking up—and up—to a stern, unsmiling, extremely cold visage.
The man was extraordinarily tall, lean bodied with powerful shoulders. His face was slender, almost sharp, his short white hair and piercing blue eyes marking his bloodline clearly. The strength of his presence was almost overwhelming.
There was no doubt who this was.
Raine fell back against the wall, staring in shock, one hand covering his throat as though he could disguise what had just occurred. For Prince Taldan, the man he worshiped, to see him in such a state, in such a manner, was beyond shaming. Desperately, he scrambled up, sinking into a deep, reverential bow.
Dimly he realized that Parsul had followed his actions, but his heart was pounding so loudly that he thought he might faint. A combination of fear, pain, and now shock made him want to sink down into a huddle, but pride, stubborn pride, kept him vertical.
“I asked a question, and I expect it answered.” The power of that voice rolled over them. Out of the corner of his eye, Raine saw Parsul flinch and then bow more deeply.
“I deeply apologize, Your Imperial Highness. I was disciplining my younger brother for the way he has acted. For insulting your younger brother and behaving in a manner unseemly for a candidate. I assure you, he will not continue in such a vein. Please, do not disqualify him for the foolishness of youth. You know how they can be.” The smarminess in the words made Raine want to sink through the floor.
Did his brother truly think that one of the greatest minds of their age could not see through his posturing and his inelegant words?
“You will return to your quarters, Lord Parsul,” Taldan ordered. “You will remain there until you are told otherwise. Is that clear?”
Raine could not help but rejoice as he saw his brother pale as he met ice-cold eyes, a flicker of cold rage in their depths. His brother tried to gather courage, but a slow hiss of steel as one of the Shadows drew his sword, dried up any protest he might have made.
He swallowed hard, then managed to nod. “I will take my brother—”
“You will do nothing of the sort. I will speak to Lord Raine myself, without you present, and I will get to the bottom of this. We have laws here, Lord Parsul, and you would have been wise to have studied them before you arrived here. Assault is a serious offense here in Persis.”
The shock in Parsul’s expression was priceless. Subdued at last, he obeyed the Shadow who sharply gestured at him to move down the corridor the several steps necessary to take him back to his room.
His departure left a ringing silence in his wake. As the prince swung his gaze upon Raine, he swiftly lowered his eyes, mourning that his first glimpse of his hero had to be under circumstances such as these. The man must think him the worst kind of weak, ineffectual personality.
Unfortunately, Raine had learned very early in his life that resistance simply led to more pain and never to any resolution in his favor.
He heard the remaining Shadow murmur something to the prince, then the prince turned his attention back to Raine. “You will come with me.”
There was no mercy in the tone, and why should there be? Raine was a guest here and had interrupted whatever the imperial high prince had been occupied with.
He followed the tall, regal figure dazedly, wondering how it all could have come to this. He could barely walk and was having trouble breathing. Each breath sent jolts of pain through him. If he had just kept his mouth shut…
His brother was right. He was his own worst enemy.
The prince swung open a door and gestured him in, impatience in every line of his body. Raine slid by him, face flaming, pain pulsing through his body.
The room looked to be a small meeting room of some sort, ornate enough, but without the splendor of the rest of the palace. This was more functional, basic.
“Sit,” the prince ordered.
Raine limped toward a chair partway down the large table, attempting to keep a respectful distance from his hero.
He went to sit, then gasped in agony and collapsed to one elbow on the table, the other arm wrapped around his ribs as agony burst over him, threatening to take his consciousness.
Large hands grasped him, settled him back into the chair with swift competence without causing more pain.
He heard the prince speaking to someone else over his head, but the words were mere smears of sound that he could not quite decipher.
Long fingers took his hand and pried it away from his ribs with amazing gentleness. “Breathe shallowly, short breaths.”
He obeyed the emotionless words without thinking, a type of trust that he had never experienced before. He scoffed to himself. Of course he would trust the prince. Had the man not written half the medical journals that doctors themselves used? This man was more skilled and learned than any of them.
He could not be in better hands.
Cold sweat trickled down his spine, his senses swimming. His tunic was cut away with a knife, and he could not protest the destruction, could only attempt to gain enough air to keep conscious.
He was vaguely aware of other people entering the room, of low-voiced conversation around him, but time moved in fits and starts, and it was all confusion.
“Drink this.”
He obeyed without question once more, letting the thick mixture flow into his mouth, swallowing with difficulty, half choking it down.
It was vile. He could not help grimacing at the taste, but whatever it was turned out to be a godsend because it seemed no time at all before the agony began to dull, his breath ease from white-hot pain into something almost bearable.
Whoa. They needed this concoction in Odenar.
He blinked, realizing with a start that the prince was kneeling before him, unwinding a bandage, several people standing at his side, ready to hand him various items.
Whoa indeed. Raine stared dreamily at Taldan. What a beautiful name. Taldan. A suitable name for a beautiful man. In all the world, could there possibly be a more perfect being than this?
He reached out with trembling fingers, wishing to touch the vision before him…
Swift fingers caught his, held them in an iron g
rip, icy blue eyes rising to meet his gaze.
He smiled back. The cold look so suited the prince, made him distant, mystical, fascinating.
The grip loosened, another hand coming to hold Raine’s wrist in a firm but not brutal grip. Raine knew all about brutal.
It was a sad thing, brutality. He wanted to talk to Taldan about it, see what his thoughts were on the subject. There was a law here. Assault. That was what it was called. He had never known it had a legal description before this day. Certainly there were no laws in Odenar about Parsul abusing Raine.
He would like to stay here, to never go home.
Dimly, he realized that one of the Shadows held him. Raine glanced up into the dark eyes of the man who gripped his wrist. The rest of the face was hidden by the cowl and veil that protected his identity.
A Shadow. The elite protectors of the emperor and his family. Only the best, the most amazing warriors were chosen for the emperor himself.
Taldan would be emperor soon.
“He will be an amazing emperor, you know? I think you should be very proud to protect him.”
The dark eyes narrowed, then something far in their depths showed amusement. “I think you gave him too large a dose, my prince. He seems to be a bit of a lightweight.”
Raine puffed up, straightening in outrage that subsided with a whimper as his ribs shifted.
“Stay still, you fool.”
The command made sense. He should listen.
He looked at the prince. “I may be useless, but I am not a lightweight. I need you to know that. You are beautiful. I know you know that, but really, it needs to be said.”
He glanced back up at the Shadow. “Does he truly understand how amazing he is? How grateful we are that he exists? His works…” He trailed off, unable to formulate the words needed. “He is a great man. He needs to know that.”
Those dark eyes looked less hard by the moment.
“I think he is aware of his greatness. Believe me.” The amusement in the Shadow’s tone grated on Raine, and he frowned.
