Sapient Salvation 2: The Awakening (Sapient Salvation Series)

by Jayne Faith

  I tried to harden my heart with the knowledge that he’d been with dozens of other women, and even if I joined the harem, he’d be with dozens more . . . but instead of fortifying my resolve, those thoughts only made my heart feel as if it were splitting in two.

  It was a mistake to let myself fall for him, but I feared I’d realized it too late.

  *

  Locked inside my quarters, I passed the next day in a daze. I had a small sitting room with a library at my disposal, but even the luxury of dozens of books could not shake me from my thoughts.

  For a moment, I would revel in the memory of my time with Lord Toric, but not for long before I would get a harsh jolt back to reality as I pictured him with the women of the harem. I bounced between the high and low until I felt nearly crazy.

  By the time a guard came to me that evening with an invitation to join Lord Toric again on his balcony, I felt brittle and drained. I soberly fixed my hair and dressed, and a knock came at the door.

  Tullock brought me to Lord Toric. As soon as I saw the alien Lord, I knew something was wrong. His face was tense, his brows drawn low over his aquamarine eyes.

  My heart bumped. When I went to him, he reached for my hand, but even his touch somehow felt distant.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is it Iris?”

  “No, she is still in prison but safe for the moment.”

  He led me to the two chairs set up on the balcony. When I sat down, the tips of my shoes didn’t even brush the ground. The chair was designed for much taller Calistans, and it made me feel fragile and childish to sit on such a large piece of furniture.

  I folded my hands in my lap, trying not to twist my fingers nervously.

  “Maya, I need you to know something about me. Something that will not be easy to hear,” Lord Toric said. He leaned forward, his forearms braced on top of his knees and his head bent. He ran a hand through his short hair and tossed a quick look up at me. “During my captivity, I was tortured. I no longer bear the physical scars from the ordeal—they were healed and erased long ago—but I was in the hands of an enemy during a very formative time in my life, and they—”

  He clamped his lips closed and drew a deep breath in through his nose, obviously uncomfortable.

  “They used sex to torture me,” he said.

  My eyes widened. My heart ached for his obvious pain, for the fact that he’d been subjected to cruelty, but I cocked my head in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Their methods of torture include arousal, pain, violence . . . it’s hard to describe without being very graphic. But you do not need to know the details. You only need to know what it did to me.” He finally looked up, his blue-green eyes boring into mine. “It warped my experience of physical intimacy. It made me want—need—things I wish I didn’t.”

  He paused, but I was still trying to grasp the implications of what he was telling me, and I could not come up with any suitable response.

  “I’ve never actually tried to explain this to anyone before,” he said. He puffed his cheeks, blowing out a long breath, and scrubbed a hand through his hair again. “But I want you to understand that this is part of who I am. That there are certain things I must have in my life to find some relief. Ever since you arrived here, I’ve felt more peace than I can explain, and I’m deeply grateful for it. But it hasn’t truly changed that part of me. Being with you just makes it less . . . severe, I suppose.”

  “So the things you do with the harem women . . .” I trailed off, thinking of the rumors I’d heard before I’d left Earthenfell, the whispers about Lord Toric’s sexual appetites.

  “Occasionally it’s, ah, quite normal, as you’d probably define it. But often . . . it is not.” He pressed his lips into a hard line for a moment. “I wish I didn’t have to say these things to you. I wish a lot of things were different, Maya. But I am who I am, and it has deep implications. The things I experienced as a boy changed me in permanent ways. And as Lord, I have vital duties I must fulfill. I devote a large portion of my energy to keeping my demons contained so they do not interfere with my responsibilities. I must periodically give in to my needs so they do not consume me. It is a tightrope that I walk, and I’ve become very good at it. But it’s a tightrope nonetheless, and I cannot afford to slip.”

  As I listened to him, I was torn. Part of me mourned for his obvious agony. Another part of me was whirling like a dust devil, trying to recalibrate my understanding of him. One thing was clear: as much as I hated it, his confession seemed further proof that I was correct in distancing myself emotionally.

  “Thank you, Lord Toric, for your candor,” I said. “I know it was very difficult for you to speak of these things.”

  He squinted for a moment, his face twisting, as if from the pain of a sudden searing light. With an obvious struggle, he composed his expression and reached for me. He pressed one of my hands between his two larger ones.

  “I’ve scared you, or repulsed you, or—”

  “No, no,” I cut in. “I truly appreciate that you were willing to tell me something so personal. But we must be realistic, Lord Toric. Even if I win the Tournament, I can only ever be just another woman of the harem. And even as such, I probably won’t be much use to you. I wasn’t trained in the pleasure arts, and I’m completely inexperienced. I won’t know how to meet your, ah, specific needs.”

  Even as I spoke in an even voice and managed to look him steadily in the eye, my heart sank like a stone in a pond. There had been moments when I’d truly believed there was something very special between us—something larger even than just the two of us. I’d come to realize how foolish that was, but inside I still felt as if I were slowly, painfully splitting in two.

  Lord Toric went very still. For the briefest of moments, I feared his rage would blaze up, that he would lash out. But he didn’t. He took in a sharp breath through his nose and blinked a few times.

  He opened his mouth as if to say something and then snapped it closed. He let go of my hand and leaned back in his chair. With his head tilted slightly downward, his eyes were shadowed and unreadable.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he finally said, his voice as dead and distant as the farthest moon.

  His confirmation was the last bit of force needed to complete the tear through my heart. Tears began to pool in my lower lids.

  “Please excuse me, my Lord,” I mumbled as I rose. I made a hasty curtsy, turned, and hurried from the balcony.

  One of my guards accompanied me back to my quarters, but I kept my head down so he wouldn’t see the tears spilling from my eyes.

  I bolted the door and went to my bed, where I curled up and let the tears flow from the never-ending well of heartache within me.

  I still wanted to win the Tournament. I wanted to survive. But the thought of living in the palace with Lord Toric, of being called to his bed but not able to fully please him . . . again, I berated myself for falling for the alien Lord. I grasped for something else to give my life purpose, but could feel nothing else but the pain in my heart.

  17

  Toric

  I TRIED TO tell myself that I should have no regrets over telling Maya the truth. She deserved to know, and I wouldn’t have been able to hide it from her for long, anyway. It was better that I confessed than allowed her to find out later. But I wished I could go back in time, back to the evening we’d spent on the balcony, with her delicate arms around my neck, her warmth mingling with mine.

  I could hardly blame her for the way she’d reacted. I’d hoped that it wouldn’t be such a shock, of course, but as she’d said . . . she was not trained for such things. Many of the women who were trained could not do what I needed, not truly. Sytoria was the only one who came close.

  Women on Earthenfell—and on Calisto, for that matter—were not raised like the women of the enemy tribe that had tortured me as a boy. In the warrior tribe of the Pirro, violence was a way of life. The women embodied it every bit as much as the men, and it extended int
o all areas of their society, as far as I was able to tell during my captivity.

  When I was tortured, the Pirros knew exactly what they were doing to me. They knew they were changing me in ways that would make me a deviant among my own people. That might have been their aim all along, I’d realized as I’d gotten older and was able to look back on the experience from an adult perspective. To break me, twist me, and damage me and then return me to Calisto, knowing that as long as my intellect was still reasonably intact my people would have to accept me as the heir to the throne. It was entirely likely that the Pirros had intended a damaged Lord take the throne. The Pirro military force was no match for the Calistan war machine. Ensuring that I would take the throne was probably the worst blow they could hope to make against us.

  I’d managed to serve as a fully functioning Lord in spite of what I’d endured, but my internal battles never ceased, and more than once I had approached a breaking point. The Calistan military had defeated the Pirros long ago, but if I broke, the Pirros’ tactic would still pay off.

  I tried my best not to relive the horrific days I’d spent with the Pirros, but even when I managed to keep them from my daytime thoughts, they often haunted my dreams at night. At times it was only flashes—the bite of a whip across my shoulder blade or the flash of a familiar bare swath of skin.

  And always, there were those green eyes.

  During my captivity, one Pirro woman visited my cell almost daily to subject me to all manner of torment. I never learned her name but called her Jade in my mind for the stone-cold, hard green hue of her eyes. Even after so many years, hers was nearly always the face and body that filled my mind when I was in bed with one of the harem women. It was not out of desire—or, the stars forbid, out of love—but from nearly four years of conditioning.

  Jade was the symbol of my shame. Her green eyes were like a secret emblem for the version of me that had emerged from a nightmare to return to a home that never truly felt like home because I did not fully belong. Yes, Jade and the Pirros had stolen that from me, too.

  How could I expect an innocent Earthen girl like Maya to take on the burden of my ignoble past? To understand it and embrace it? I used every tool and strength of will I had to beat it back, and when I had to, I gave in to it. But I never welcomed it, and I never embraced it.

  I invited Maya to join me the next night but was not surprised when she did not show up at my balcony. After waiting for a couple of hours, I closed the balcony doors and pulled the curtains. I locked the doors to my bedchamber, all except one. And I asked Victor to send for Sytoria.

  After, when I’d finally found release, I felt hollow as a bowl with only the steady tap of my heart echoing in the emptiness of my body. The bedding was in such a ruin that it had to be discarded. When Victor saw me—stoic Victor—his eyes widened and his lips parted before he could control his expression. He sent for Tanning, the royal medic who was always on call for such situations. He arrived with a cart, an arsenal of healing devices, and spent an hour repairing the wounds that Sytoria had inflicted.

  Relief emptied me, but it wasn’t long before the ache for Maya began to fill the void. Because she was so near, I could constantly feel the hum of her energy signature. Her energy had darkened since my confession, the bright edges turning inward and the vibration lower and more intense.

  I could only hope that the darkness—whether anger, disappointment, or whatever emotions she was feeling—would harden her, help to make her ruthless in the Tournament. Even if she did not want me, I still wanted her to win, to survive. And it was not only about my own heart. She was part of the path back to Earthenfell. My people needed her to survive, too.

  *

  The next morning, I received an urgent message from High Priestess Lunaria summoning me to meet her.

  I’d learned that she felt safest discussing sensitive information in her office in the Temple, and although my visits there always attracted some attention, I thought she was wise for taking precautions. Unlike my chambers, she was the only one who had access to her office. It wasn’t even opened for staff to maintain. I’d actually asked her about it once. She told me that twice a month a pair of Temple initiates came in to clean it, but she was present the entire time.

  Even as a public figure who was as recognizable as I was, High Priestess Lunaria had a measure of privacy that I did not.

  More and more, I was noticing all the ways in which my life wasn’t really my own. As if to punctuate that thought, my head administrator’s voice came through my earpiece.

  “My Lord, after your meeting with the Priestess, you’re due at the Office of Royal Social Affairs,” Camira said.

  I swallowed back a groan. “And what will this meeting entail?”

  “Yuana will give you more detailed information on the fifty women who are still eligible, which you are to use to do another elimination.”

  I drew a long breath in through my nose, trying to allay my irritation.

  I’d caught some of the morning’s newscast, during which a chipper young man with slick hair and too-bright eyes had informed all of Calisto that their Lord had narrowed down the pool of women who were in the running to become the new Queen. With a disapproving shake of my head, I’d turned to Victor, who was helping me dress, and wondered aloud why the newscasters weren’t taking time off for meditation and fasting during the week of the Third Sign of the Return.

  “Gossip, it appears, is not subject to the sabbaticals brought on by heavenly miracles,” Victor had quipped in his usual droll tone, with a wry lift of one eyebrow.

  That had drawn an unexpected laugh out of me. It had felt strange, as if I hadn’t laughed in a very long time. But it had probably only been a couple of days. Since I’d last seen Maya, if I had to guess.

  When I reached the reception room outside the office of the High Priestess, Lunaria’s assistant rose from her desk to curtsy. “Good morning, my Lord. My, aren’t you a busy man while most are taking time off! The duties of Her Holiness haven’t seemed to slow either. I saw that the search for your Queen has begun. What an exciting time for you. I hope you find a woman who gives you many children. Best of luck to you in your quest, my Lord.”

  I couldn’t get in more than a nod as the High Priestess opened her office door and ushered me in. As my guards halted to stay behind in the reception room, I couldn’t help but wonder if the Priestess’s cheerful assistant chattered at them through the duration of my meetings with Lunaria.

  “My Lord,” the Priestess inclined her head and lowered her eyelids for a moment. “Please forgive Celestia, she hasn’t much of a filter between her brain and her lips, but she means no harm.”

  I waved a hand as I sat down on the cushioned chair set up for visitors at the front of the Priestess’s desk. “Not at all, I quite enjoy her. Most people are afraid to say more than two words to me.”

  The Priestess went to her high back chair, settled her opalescent robes around her, and then interlaced her fingers and rested her hands on her desk. My pulse tripped with anticipation, as these visits never failed to reveal something important.

  “My Lord, I believe we have discovered the source of the drug that was used on Maya,” she said.

  My eyebrows shot up and I shifted, leaning forward. I’d all but given up that we would ever discover anything about the unknown substance that had knocked Maya out when she’d been abducted.

  “There is a small boutique hothouse in the botanical district that used to grow an ornamental succulent that I believe the drug was derived from.”

  “And do you know who procured the plant or the substance that was derived from it?” I asked.

  “The grower stopped producing the plant many years ago, as far as I’ve been able to discern. I’m guessing that someone used to buy the plants and use them to manufacture the drug. Possibly to sell on the black market, though I have no confirmation of that yet.” She tapped a tablet that lay on her desk, and the monitor lit up. She pushed it toward me.

&nb
sp; I picked it up and examined a photo of a small plant with plump, pale green heart-shaped leaves. The tip of each leaf was reddish-purple. The plant certainly looked innocent enough.

  I set the tablet down. “Perhaps someone is still growing them and producing the drug, or someone has a supply of the drug from when this grower used to sell these plants. How long ago did this hothouse stop carrying the plant?”

  “About twenty years ago.”

  I chewed my lip for a moment. “Any number of households might have purchased the plant back then, and citizens with good cultivation skills might have kept them alive all this time.”

  She nodded. “We can certainly procure a list of all the people who ever purchased the plant from that grower. Though of course some of them may have given the plants away as gifts, or even had them stolen. And it would be naïve to think that some weren’t illegally propagated, and stars only know where those ones may have ended up.”

  Live plants were luxury items for regular citizens on Calisto. They were more than that, actually—they were treasured objects that some even considered sacred.

  “This was good work,” I said. “And there’s something else I need to tell you.”

  I recounted for her what Maya had told me about her brief encounter with Jeric in the service corridor.

  The High Priestess pursed her lips, and her brow lined with worry. “Troubling. His behavior, the tone of his words . . . it sounds obsessive.”

  I grimaced, feeling oddly embarrassed for my brother’s behavior, as if I were somehow partly responsible for him. “Leave it to my brother to pick Maya to obsess over.”

  “My Lord, I don’t think this is an ordinary obsession,” she said slowly. “He seems to believe that the throne is rightfully his. With all the recent events advancing us along the path to Earthenfell, there may be something . . . bigger driving Prince Jeric.”

  My breath died in my throat for a moment. “You mean there is something in his, his . . .” I paused, my eyes darting around as if searching for the right word on the Priestess’s office walls. “It’s his destiny that’s driving him to want Maya for himself?”