Valerian (Mine to Take 3)

by Jacquelyn Frank

  That might have been what woke him. He did not usually sleep with his women. He never felt a need for it. He might instead have them sleep at the foot of the bed on the floor if he wanted easy access to one in the middle of the night. But in the actual bed with him? No.

  So why had he done so with her? He had told her it was a reward for her good behavior… and it was. A very large reward for some very simple obedience.

  No, not simple. Obedience from Melena was something to take note of. It was special and should be treated as such. She had come a long way in a short period of time for him, and he had to show her he recognized that.

  So perhaps she had moved in her sleep and he had felt it in his, and it had awakened him. His grip on the blade beneath the pillow tightened. Perhaps that was the case… or perhaps…

  It was only by luck that as the silent assassin raised his blade above the bed he let it catch the only beam of moonlight coming into the room. Valerian moved swift as lightning, shoving Melena away from him and drawing his blade at the same time. He plunged the blade into his target even as the target’s blade stabbed into him. The difference was, Valerian’s blade went into the assassin’s gut; the assassin’s blade cut into the fleshy part of Valerian’s shoulder just on the outside of his arm.

  Valerian shoved the assassin away, disentangled himself from the bedclothes, and let his feet hit the ground. The assassin had fallen to the floor.

  Light suddenly flared into the room. Melena, bless her, had had the wherewithal to light a candle in the darkness, shedding light and making the situation much less dangerous. If the assassin was able to gain his feet and make another move for Valerian, he would see it.

  They needn’t have worried. The assassin was down and was staying down. He lay curled up, clutching his belly where he had been wounded, blood seeping into the carpet beneath him.

  Valerian disarmed him of his blade, throwing the bloodied thing away, and knelt beside the man, who was dressed all in black. He was a professional. Had to be, from the way he was dressed to the type of blade he was using and the near perfect silence he had used to approach the bed. Had his instincts not been so well honed, Melena would be dead. She had been sprawled over most of his vital parts. There was no telling if the assassin would have seen her there… or perhaps he had and he simply did not care.

  Kill one, kill two… it wouldn’t matter to the man. The trouble came from knowing that he might only get one opportunity with a man like Valerian, and he had to use that chance well.

  This one had not. He might or might not have made a noise, but Valerian had been alerted even in the depths of sleep. His senses, it was said, were preternatural. Tonight he had proved that to be true.

  He knelt down on the carpet and grabbed the offender by the throat, squeezing just tightly enough. “Who sent you?” he demanded. Valerian was aware of Melena coming to stand beside him where he knelt. He didn’t like her so close to this savage.

  The savage refused to answer.

  But before Valerian could do anything further, Melena knelt on the carpet and jammed her hand into the man’s belly, grinding her fist into his open wound. “Answer! Who sent you?” she demanded.

  The man cried out in a bursting wail, but Melena was merciless, twisting and pressing until her hand was soaked with blood. “I don’t know!” the intruder rasped.

  “You lie!” Melena said before Valerian could do so. “You are a professional. You would not risk your life for just anyone!”

  “I-if the coin is e-enough --” her victim stuttered.

  “Liar! Tell us who sent you!” Valerian demanded.

  Finally, faintly he said, “What does it matter? I am dead already.” But the words were to himself rather than to those who tormented him. “It was your brother.”

  Chapter Four

  Vicktor? “More lies,” Valerian whispered. “What reason would my brother have for killing me? I am his most loyal and valuable general.”

  “Not so loyal. Not with her in your ear,” he said, nodding to Melena.

  “But… no one could have possibly overheard those exchanges. We were alone!” Valerian barked.

  “There is nothing spoken in this fortress that the emperor does not know about,” the dying man said.

  “But the discussions weren’t enough to warrant sending an assassin to kill me,” Valerian said. “I held my position. Kept loyal.”

  “I wasn’t sent to kill you,” the man said weakly. “I was sent to kill the one whispering in your ear.”

  Melena jerked back, shock written across her features. “Me? But I’m no one to Vicktor! What has he to fear from me?”

  “He fears you may change my loyalties. Tell me, have you spoken of our conversations to anyone else?” Valerian asked her.

  “Well… only a couple of the women in the harem. I simply said that perhaps one day I could convince you to see things in the right light. That perhaps you could be reasoned with as you are a man of honor and of logic. That you could be made to see how wrong it was to cater to a monster like your brother.”

  “Unwise,” Valerian scolded her. “You must watch what you say in this stronghold at all times. But the damage is done now. Vicktor sees you as a threat. If he cannot get to you this way, then he will get to you another. We will have to be very careful.”

  Valerian nudged past Melena and jammed his blade into the unfortunate assassin’s throat, killing him.

  “It was unwise to make an attempt on me while I was in your protection,” Melena said softly. She looked at him gasped. Grabbing a fur from the bed she pressed it to the bleeding wound. “You are injured!”

  “It is nothing,” Valerian said dismissively.

  “It is not nothing! You could have been killed!”

  “As you heard, I was not the target.”

  “What are we to do? If Vicktor wants me dead, you said yourself he will find a way.”

  “I must reassure Vicktor that mere words of a harem woman cannot change me. That I will always remain loyal to him.”

  “Will you? Will you always remain loyal to him, no matter what he does?”

  Valerian looked down at the man he had killed and felt his stomach turn. If Vicktor wanted her dead, then there would be no way to protect Melena in this fortress. He had to remove her immediately. But first -- first he must deal with the woman or women who had betrayed him by reporting to Vicktor. His women were to be loyal only to him. No matter that Vicktor was their emperor; they were to remain steadfastly loyal and submissive to him. To think one of them had been swayed to betray him made him ill, and beyond furious.

  “I will remain loyal to him as long as my father allows,” Valerian said. She looked confused at that, but he didn’t expect her to understand.

  “But your father is dead,” she said.

  “Not to me he isn’t,” Valerian responded. “We must get you out of the fortress. You cannot stay here and expect to live.”

  “I am not afraid of Vicktor,” she said with bravado, but it was clear that she was. And so she should be. Vicktor was a dangerous enemy to have.

  “It is possible he will follow if you are made to leave, but I doubt he will give you much thought. He no doubt made this decision matter-of-factly. He heard a report of you and responded to it with finality. He probably doesn’t even know who you are. What you look like. Tell me exactly who you told those things to in the harem.”

  “Just Hassa and Daria.”

  Hassa and Daria… Hassa was beyond loyal to him. He did not doubt her. But Daria was loyal only to herself. Oh, she played the part of a submissive very well… she even enjoyed it, he would say. But her heart was not easily touched by anyone or anything. Still, it was a stretch to think she would be that disloyal. She treasured her place of power in the harem. As one of the senior shisha she was held above everyone else in terms of benefits and considerations. She always got the best silks, the best jewels, the best foods. He took care of all his women generously, but there was still a pecking order and
a perception of having better things than anyone else.

  For her to act against another shisha in such a way would mean she felt threatened by that shisha. He didn’t see why. Melena had only been part of the harem for three days and nights. Sure, he had shown favoritism to her for each of those nights, but that was often the case with a new shisha. He would spend a great deal of time training anyone new. He had done it at least a dozen times before. What made Melena different?

  That was a very good question in more than one way. He had been asking himself that repeatedly throughout the night. What made her so different? Why did she get under his skin like no other woman before her had? Why did he see possibilities in her that he had not seen in others?

  “Come. We must get you out of here,” he said, rising to his full height. She followed him, her hands still pressing the fur to his shoulder.

  “But your arm!”

  “Leave it. I will have the medic stitch it later. We must remove you from this place. That is most important.”

  “But --”

  “Put your clothes on,” he said, picking up the fragile silks he had removed from her at the beginning of the night and handing them to her.

  “But --”

  “Obey me!” he barked in a sudden roar.

  She subsided significantly, and he felt bad for yelling at her. But he did not apologize. It had the desired effect. She grabbed a robe he sometimes wore from the foot of the bed and belted it on quickly. He dressed quickly as well, then snatched a cloak from a post nearby and draped it over her. It was cold out, and even with the cloak it would not be enough. And he couldn’t send her out into the wilds of the world alone. Not with Vicktor after her. He would go with her. But first he had to make his excuses to his brother. And even before that he had to ferret out the poison in his harem.

  He rang for a servant. Good. It was one he felt he could trust. Although he wasn’t much in a trusting mood.

  “Take this body and dispose of it quietly and without notice,” he said, pointing to the dead man on the floor. Thankfully the servant took the command in stride. He left the room and came back with others. As a group they lifted the body up and took it away. “We will pretend as though none of this has happened. I will behave as if I have received some reports of difficulty at the war front. Then we will leave this place.”

  “Won’t your brother question you bringing one of your women with you to the war front?”

  “Not at all. We often travel with one or more of our harem shisha to ease our needs as we go. It is safer than spending ourselves with camp whores. I will bring you and Daria and Hassa.”

  “Why Daria and Hassa?” she asked.

  Was that a hint of jealousy in her tone, he wondered? He might have enjoyed it under other circumstances. But these were not other circumstances, and jealousy was a dangerous emotion. There was a dead man as proof of that.

  “Because one of them has betrayed me, and I would know which one it is. I have my suspicions, but I need proof. I cannot find that proof if they are not close to me. Now go back to the harem. Make ready to leave. As soon as you are packed with the other women, you will make your way down to the stables. Do you ride?”

  “Of course I ride. I grew up on a farm.”

  “Watch your tone,” he warned her with a half-smile hitching up one corner of his mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said obediently. But with those proud shoulders and those defiant eyes he could tell she was not sorry in the least. Still, he had no time to deal with that now. “I do not need this to go to the harem,” she pointed out, indicating the cloak.

  “I had thought to send you out directly without stopping, but I see now that would raise suspicion. We must act as if none of this has happened.” He took the cloak from her and hung it back up. He rang for yet another servant, and this one went wide-eyed as he took in his master’s somewhat disheveled and wounded appearance. To his credit the man took the matter in stride and awaited his orders obediently. “Take her to the harem. Guard her carefully, or it will be on your head.”

  The servant paled under the responsibility of the directive, but he took Melena’s arm and led her away. Melena went with the servant, but she didn’t break eye contact with Valerian until a door shut in her path, blocking him from view. Valerian then began to rummage through a nearby drawer for a needle and thread. He could call another servant, but too many had been exposed to the recent goings-on in his room as it was. He would sew the wound himself.

  He needed to make a quick and stealthy escape without his brother putting a stop to it. But he thought he might trust them. As far as he was willing to trust. Which wasn’t very far at that moment.

  By the time he had sewn up his wound, the carpet had been rolled up and taken away, and the servant had cleaned up much of the blood that had seeped through the carpet. The man had returned, awaiting further instructions. Dawn was also on the verge of breaking, the sky having lightened in preparation.

  Vicktor was known for keeping late nights, and so would not rouse from his bedchamber until the sun was topmost in the sky. He did not have the luxury of waiting that long. He drew up a letter and sealed it with his signet, explaining to Vicktor that he had heard reports of rebels attacking his troops in force, and so he was needed at the war front… even though it was the dead of winter.

  He did not enjoy the idea of riding across hard country with three women in the bitter mountain cold, but he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t like having his hand forced. No more than Vicktor would like him leaving without consulting with him first. But it was not unusual for Valerian to suddenly take off to tend to Vicktor’s battles, so it was likely he would think nothing of it.

  It was just as likely it would brew suspicion in Vicktor’s mind. But it was a chance he had to take. He needed time. Time to think and time to put things to rights. Time to get Melena as far from Vicktor’s attention as was possible.

  He made his letter to Vicktor as concise and matter-of-fact as he could. He did not effuse about his loyalty to his brother or any such thing. It would be out of the ordinary for him to do something like that. It would get Vicktor’s attention. Instead he made sure it sounded as if this was just another day and just another problem to be dealt with. True, Vicktor might raise a brow at him bringing three women with him in the heart of winter across hard country, but it would hopefully be a passing curiosity.

  He couldn’t concern himself with that. He needed to get Melena to safety. By the time a report reached his brother about dead bodies being snuck out of the castle, they would be well away. It was possible Vicktor would try and recall him, but again, it was a worry for another time. He wouldn’t create trouble until it became an issue in reality.

  And to think only hours ago his only worry had been how best to handle his Melena. No, that wasn’t true. He held too many responsibilities to ever let go that much. But it had, for a brief time, felt exactly like that. He had been focused more on her training and the pleasures she provided him than any other thing in that moment. She had been a welcome respite.

  But he couldn’t indulge like that again. There was too much at stake. Too many things weighing him down. Too many things he was responsible for.

  But had he been responsible? Was he being responsible in his care of others? What about his care of Melena? It was his job to keep her safe… and he was failing at that. Yes, he had prevented her murder, and yes, he had set a plan in motion that would protect her, but he had been the one to put her in danger in the first place by bringing her into the court intrigues when she was such a simply bred farm girl who knew nothing about being cautious of what she said because it could be used against her.

  He was responsible for letting her sleep amongst women who would see her as a threat and do whatever was in their power to erase her from their path. He was responsible for not warning her… for not preparing her for life as his shisha. He had been more focused on the physical and mental command he wanted over her… selfishly so.
He had not thought to prepare her for other things.

  Well, it was too late to change what had already passed. Now all he could do was try to rectify his mistakes. He had to protect her… and he had to ferret out those responsible. It was dangerous to travel such rough country in winter, but it was far more deadly to stay in place where she would be within reach of his brother.

  But he couldn’t keep her away from Vicktor forever. If he couldn’t convince Vicktor he was loyal to him no matter what others suggested to him, she would always be at risk.

  There was another option. He could…

  No. He couldn’t possibly consider it. But then again, how could he not? How could he feel right leaving a man in power who would kill an innocent woman just for the words she spoke in an unguarded moment? A woman who had every right to complain about her lot in life after being uprooted and enslaved. She had barely known what she was talking about as she had complained innocently to other women about the two brothers who had upended her life.

  What kind of man was his brother that he would feel threatened by such a small thing?

  Valerian knew exactly what kind of man his brother was. He had known for years. But this… this was going too far in his mind. For some reason. It just felt like he’d gone too far.

  Which was humorlessly funny given the things he had witnessed his brother do over the years. So why now?

  Why now?

  Valerian pushed those thoughts aside as he left final instructions to his servants and his secretary. The poor man. He’d been roused out of his bed and told he was to meet them on the road as soon as he was able to pack and be on his way.