by J. C. Owens
After his brother boarded the ship for Odenar, Taldan found himself at loose ends.
For once, his mind could not focus on his many projects. The realization that Zaran was not in the palace, not close to hand, was far more bothersome than he would ever have expected.
Certainly Naral was no help, moping about the place like he had lost a family member. It brought home how close the three of them were and how strange this was that one should be missing.
What Zaran would find upon his arrival, what message he would send back to Anrodnes, would determine Raine’s fate, yet another concern piled into his thoughts. Yet again, the young man came to the fore, and his selfless requests, so heartfelt, echoed in Taldan’s memory.
Add to that the number of times the Lord Chamberlain had come calling, asking for his input on the coming ceremonies, and Taldan’s mind had no hope of buckling down and getting anything at all done.
Zaran had been so concerned about his fitness to lead the army. Now Taldan, for the first time, was feeling tension over the fact the coronation was so close.
Before, he had not had the slightest doubt in himself and his abilities. Now, with the time abruptly shortened and a possible war on the horizon, he felt blindsided and ill-prepared, something he had never before experienced.
Doubts were only highlighted by the fact that he could not agree with his father over Raine’s guilt. That he was guilty of withholding vital information yes, but of being part of this entire enterprise? That was where Taldan’s reasoning differed from his father’s.
His father was rigid in his certainty that any degree of opposition was a seed that grew into rebellion, that threatened the empire as a whole.
Taldan was not so sure.
Then again, he had not lived through the time of acquisition, of war and strife and bringing the conquered to heel. He had only lived in the result of it and saw a need for something different, something that people could accept more readily. Something that brought order and prosperity to the world.
Now, in the face of what was happening in Odenar with a violent invasion for no other reason than greed, he wondered if he had been naïve. Perhaps his father had the right of it. An iron fist and fear were all people were capable of understanding. Give them more freedom and they let their base natures take over, greed, avarice, and brutality rising to the fore.
Essentially it boiled down to there could be one tyrant, the emperor, or many as they fought for power.
He would never understand humanity.
Taldan found himself abandoning the comfort of his rooms and wandering the palace with no clear purpose, something he could never remember doing before.
Taldan found himself in front of the harem doors without even realizing it, the guards there eyeing him quizzically.
He took a deep breath and nodded. The guards swung the doors open, and he entered.
There was a rush of sound as the concubines went to their knees, murmuring greetings. Taldan let his eyes rove over them, then beyond, feeling the tension slide away as he saw Hredeen on the far side of the room, curled up in the window seat of the vast, floor-to-ceiling windows that lit the entire harem brightly.
Hredeen put the book down and swept into a graceful kneeling bow that was so sensual it made Taldan’s mouth dry so that he had to swallow hard.
Taldan stepped past the other concubines, having only eyes for Hredeen.
He leaned down, offered a hand, and Hredeen looked up with a smile that reached his eyes, something that Taldan knew was reserved for him alone.
It always warmed something within him, a place that had always been iced over before Hredeen’s coming.
Long fine fingers grasped his own, and the concubine rose with fluid grace.
Rumor had it that Hredeen had to have been born from an incubus given his seemingly unnatural degree of sensuality, a perfect form, and movement that was an allure all its own.
Hredeen never spoke of his past, and Taldan respected that, although he could admit to healthy curiosity over the matter. All that was known was that Hredeen had appeared at a highly publicized gathering for the choosing of harem occupants for the imperial heir. Until then, Taldan had had access to his father’s harem, but when he reached twenty-one, the age of majority, he was given the right to find his own concubines.
On that day, Taldan had already made several choices when his gaze had landed on a man standing off by himself, watching, but not coming any closer to the princes, not crowding around them as the others had done.
The unknown man was lithe, but his was the build of an athlete, not someone who led an indulgent lifestyle. All sleek grace. His hair was braided into intricate loops, and the sheer mass of it indicated that its length when free would be truly remarkable. The color was beyond beautiful, shades of gold that glinted in the light, changing as he turned to face Taldan and met him eye to eye.
The man had swept into a perfectly executed bow, with a flourish that indicated he was from another culture, certainly not from anywhere close to Persis. His features certainly proved that supposition. His face was narrow, long, with high cheekbones, and ever so slightly slanted eyes that were—purple?
Taldan found himself drawn forward, fascinated.
Gently, he reached out and took the man’s chin in his hand, tilting that face up so he could see more clearly.
The man met his eyes fully, no fear in their depths, no excess humility or shyness evident.
Even though he stood almost a head shorter than Taldan, he held the calm, confident manner of someone who knew his worth. Taldan felt as though he were meeting an equal, not a subordinate, though the stranger had shown perfect etiquette and respect toward him.
Taldan had held a hand suspended over a lean cheekbone and found himself asking, “May I?”
Never had he done such a thing before. He was the imperial heir, his power only below that of the emperor himself. Others were there for his convenience.
Yet, here, now, he asked permission to touch.
Those eyes glittered, the color darkening to true blue before the fascinating stranger smiled. It was as though the room brightened, and Taldan could only blink, dazzled.
“You may.”
Taldan shivered, a shaft of instant lust tightening his body more swiftly than he could ever remember happening.
That voice…
Smooth, slightly husky, like liquid chocolate that smoothed over his nerves and transported him from the world and into nothing but pleasure itself.
He realized his fingers were trembling ever so slightly, and he took a deep breath, ruthlessly bringing himself back into harsh control. He laid his fingers upon an incredibly smooth cheek that bore no sign of stubble, no indication that there was any hair whatsoever.
It was so strange, so fascinating.
If the elves still existed in anything other than stories, then this man would seem to be of their blood.
He stroked back a stray bit of hair behind a well-shaped ear, half disappointed when it was not pointed. He could almost laugh at his own wish for a fantasy to come true.
There were no elves. Perhaps never had been but in legend.
Taldan had thrust the thought away, leaning closer, eyes fastened upon lush, full lips that practically begged to—
The man leaned up, letting his hands rest softly on Taldan’s forearms and met him halfway in a kiss that made the world fall away.
It could have been minutes, or even hours, before Taldan drew back, breathless, aroused to the point of pain. He stared at those kiss-swollen lips and almost whimpered with need.
“Your name?” he whispered softly, as though it were only them in the vast room. As though the others around them had ceased to exist.
“Hredeen, my prince. My name is Hredeen, and I am yours…”
That had been eight years ago, eight years that had flown by. Now, Taldan had a hard time remembering life before Hredeen’s arrival.
He was so much a part of their lives, had slipped
into his role with such ease and grace that he had become a necessary part of the palace. There was no one who did not know him, respect him in a way that no other concubine earned.
Even the Shadows acknowledged him, and their evident respect often made Taldan wonder. There was so much more than met the eye with Hredeen, like shifting waters and unknown depths. Yet Taldan had always respected his reticence on his past.
The instant bond between them only grew with time, honing into something well-balanced and fond, an enjoyment in each other’s company that went far beyond the harem.
It only grew, never faded. Here and here alone he indulged his body and his emotions. The harem was a place of refuge for him. He’d always thought himself weak for needing it, for needing Hredeen, but of late he’d begun to wonder.
After meeting Raine and the trials of the Choosing, of seeing his father again, so utterly cold and isolated, he’d begun to wonder even more…
Even now, Taldan felt a breathless anticipation as he drew Hredeen up to his feet and bent to meet his lips.
Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the concubine kissed back with a force of passion that never seemed to lessen.
As always, time seemed to fall away, and it was only the two of them.
When at last they both drew back, Taldan’s senses were floating, as always happened, and he was grateful when Hredeen took his hand and led him to the window seat.
He sank upon its softness thankfully and savored Hredeen’s warm body pressed along his side.
Those amazing eyes looked at him, through him, in a way that only Hredeen had ever achieved.
“You are troubled over more than Zaran’s leaving.”
As always, Hredeen knew the whole of it. It should have been annoying, even concerning, that another knew him so well, better than Zaran or even Naral, but Taldan had never been able to rouse worry over the strangeness of their relationship.
Those long fingers that knew every inch of Taldan’s body so well now grasped his hands, and Hredeen kissed the back of them with slow care.
“You will be an emperor beyond any that have been before. You will bring change, change that will bring a time of peace and prosperity unlike any your people have known. Do not doubt yourself, my prince. Your time is coming, and all you have worked so diligently on, all that you have sacrificed of yourself, will lead to a new future for us all.”
The words were powerful, surging through Taldan’s thoughts, echoing through his mind as though they held magic of their own.
Hredeen smiled, and the vague impression slipped away.
“You have been training for this all your life, my prince. You are as ready as any soul could possibly be, and you have your own plans, your own beliefs to bring into play. It is time.”
Taldan blinked and shook his head as though casting off a spell.
“I’m glad that you have such faith,” he commented wryly. “For myself, I am finding all manner of doubts rising up. I thought I had several years at least to plan, to grow into who I will need to be. As it is, I will be the youngest of my lineage to take the throne. I cannot imagine that my ancestors would have believed that I had enough life experience to be an able emperor.”
Hredeen tsked. “Each man has his own difficulties, his own doubts and barriers. Now, with time between us, we see those past rulers as less than human, less than real. Don’t ever imagine that they did not fear before they took that throne. If they did not, they did not deserve to sit upon it.”
Taldan gave a chuff of laughter, setting his shoulder against Hredeen’s, loving the warmth and solidarity the pressure gave him. “You are so incredibly wise, my friend. As though you have lived through a thousand lives or more. You would be a far better candidate for the throne than I would.”
Hredeen grimaced and shoved lightly back at him. “As if. There are few worse fates I could imagine for me.” A shadow flickered across his face. “In the harem, I will have more freedom than you, once you step up.” There was a sadness in his tone as he reached up and cupped Taldan’s cheek, gazed into his eyes as though he sought to read his soul. “This is not what I would wish for you. To be imprisoned here for the rest of your life perhaps, if fate should demand it. To have your face forever covered by that mask, so that in time, we will forget your features. You are worth more than this. You have not yet lived enough for my comfort.”
Taldan brushed back his long golden tresses, loose in the privacy of the harem. He ran the silken strands through his fingertips, relishing the feel, the golden sheen from the sun streaming through the window highlighting the different shades.
His lips twisted. “I was born for this, Hredeen. Each person has their fate, and this is mine.”
“It doesn’t mean I have to like it.” There was a hint of anger beneath the lightly said words that told the truth of Hredeen’s displeasure.
Taldan smiled softly, grasped Hredeen’s arm and urged him round so that he straddled Taldan’s lap and they were face to face.
He leaned forward and kissed the concubine lightly, a gentle touch that spoke volumes.
* * *
Naral
Naral scowled, watching the preparations in the great hall. Staff worked swiftly, completing tasks that had been meant to take weeks not days to prepare. There was a swift efficiency about it all, a note of muted excitement overlaying the proceedings.
Most citizens of Anrodnes only got one chance to see an emperor crowned. In this lifetime, many of them would actually see two. Demarin’s coronation and now Imperial Heir Taldan’s.
They saw only the surface pomp, the excitement of a celebration that was rare and cherished.
Few were aware of what was happening behind all the preparations.
Naral had come to make sure that his staff was paying attention to ensuring that all was safe, that there was no opportunity for a stranger or possible assassin to sneak into the palace while all were distracted. He was relying heavily on the expertise and competence of the Shadows but knew he had to pull his own weight as well. Palace security needed to be at its best. It would be all too easy for an attack to take place, and there were those who would be pleased to make a political statement during the celebrations.
Naral was determined that it all would go smoothly for his friend, his prince. He wished he could feel anticipation for the event, but all he could consider was that Taldan would lose so much on that day.
Yes, his friend would gain his Chosen, but the few freedoms that he was allowed would disappear entirely, and the gilded cage would close around him for good.
Naral shivered, ran his hands up and down his arms to chase away the chill that overcame him.
He could only be thankful that such a fate was not his, but to watch his friend put on that mask, to realize he would never see his face again, was something that made his chest ache, a ball of pain that he feared would never completely leave him.
He wondered, not for the first time, how it was that those of royal blood, raised for the purpose, found the strength to step into a role that was so confining, as though leaving themselves behind and becoming something that existed for the good of their people, not an individual at all.
Just as disturbing, Naral felt lost without Prince Zaran nearby, showing a depth of connection with his friend that he had not been truly aware of before. He had sent three of his men to serve and protect the prince and to send regular messages back to confirm that Zaran was safe and whole.
The protection end of it was most probably moot, considering that Zaran would have a contingent of Shadows with him, but Naral was more concerned about the prince eating properly, sleeping, taking care of himself. Zaran was not so accomplished in that matter.
Naral growled quietly to himself. He should have been with him. He had never felt his new job as a restriction until he was forbidden from being at Zaran’s side in a matter that could well hold great danger.
He could only hope that the large military presence at Zaran’s back would br
ing Odenar to a fresh realization of the power of the empire and how it needed to kneel before that force without further discord.
He had not been able to sleep well since the younger prince had left and no message had yet arrived. It had only been six days since his leave-taking, but it seemed eons to Naral. He had never before considered the depth of his attachment to Zaran. After all, they were always close by each other within the palace.
This was the first time they had been truly apart since Naral’s arrival so many years before. Naral often found himself turning to say something, then realizing that Zaran was not at his shoulder. It was disconcerting, the disappointment he felt each time, along with a cold, empty feeling, as though a part of him were missing.
He didn’t like it at all.
He had always counted himself independent, enjoying other people’s company, but not ‘needing’ it. This separation was showing something very different, very unnerving that made him shy away from too deep a scrutiny. He didn’t have time for that kind of thing now. His mind needed to be focused on the coming ceremonies.
“By the gods, you could fry meat with that glare,” Isnay said, startling him out of his pained introspection. His cousin’s shoulder bumped his.
He turned the glare at his cousin, but as always, it had little to no effect on the man.
“Zaran is fine,” Isnay continued. “We would have heard to the contrary from your men, not to mention the emperor is linked to him with his magic. You are worrying yourself sick for something that has not yet happened, nor will. He is surrounded by the power and might of the Anrodnes military. He is probably safer there than he was here.”
Naral clenched his jaw. He would not get into his usual epic argument with his cousin, a thing they were renowned for. He was in a position that he had to be responsible in public now. Had to show that he was worthy of this role that had been given him, a role of great import and status.
He heard a chuckle beside him and had to restrain his elbow from making painful contact with Isnay’s ribs.
“You look like you have been starched, you’re so stiff and formal. There isn’t a rule book for being the head of Persis security. You can make it into your own model, not attempt to stuff yourself into a mold that was designed for another.” There was amused sympathy evident in Isnay’s tone.
