Reaching the double blue doors that marked his bedchamber, he barely paused in his stride, and the two guards hastily wrenched them open to allow him access. He pulled me into his room, and the doors shut behind us.
There were a number of male slaves there, clearing up after what must have been a late meeting, removing scraps of food and empty dishes from the table in the corner, and turning down the Prince’s bed.
They stopped as we entered, though, and stood in a line, hands folded and eyes downcast, although not before sending us curious and horrified glances.
The Prince ignored them and stopped in the middle of the room. Yanking me around to face him, he finally dropped my wrist. It burned where he’d gripped it tightly, but I didn’t rub it.
“Kneel,” he said.
I looked up into his eyes. “Tash, please, what have I done—”
“You will not look at me,” he yelled, “you will address me as ‘my Prince,’ and you will do as you’re told! Kneel!” His deep voice rang through the room.
Immediately I dropped to my knees on the colorful Persian carpet. My heart rose into my mouth, and for a moment I thought I was going to be sick.
His chest heaved, and then he began to pace in front of me. There wasn’t a sound in the room, only the quiet pad of his slippers on the carpet.
I swallowed repeatedly, trying to control my nausea. What had I done to anger him in such a manner?
Eventually, he spoke. “I had a meeting tonight with the Indian visitors.” His voice had dropped to its normal level, low and sultry, but like the moaning wind outside, it still held a hint of danger.
I said nothing, confused as to how this involved me.
“One of them told me he had overheard his slaves talking,” the Prince continued, still pacing. “They were gossiping about the palace. About a woman in my harem.”
He stopped pacing and stood before me. “About one of my wives.”
If I held my breath any longer I was going to faint, but I couldn’t seem to remember how to inhale.
“About you, Farah,” the Prince said. “They were saying how you must be the best lover of all of my women.”
I blinked, confused at the turn of the conversation.
“Do you know why they consider you must be the best lover?” he asked.
I gave a little shake of my head.
He dropped to his haunches and met my gaze. “Because you have fucked so many other men.”
My heart stopped. I stared at him.
His eyes were like ice. “They said that on the nights you do not come to my chamber, you creep out of the palace and into the city. That you have so many lovers throughout Samarkand you cannot remember all of their names.”
My jaw dropped.
“Is it true?” He reached out and gripped my chin. “Tell me the truth, Farah. I will know if you are lying to me.”
My heart pounded in my ears, loud as the wind whirling outside the shutters. Emotions stirred behind the Prince’s eyes like reeds beneath the waters of the oasis. He thought the rumors were true. He thought I had betrayed him.
Fear knifed through me. Adultery was punishable by death. I had no doubt that the Prince would not hesitate to treat the unfaithfulness of one of his wives severely.
In spite of my fear, however, I could see hurt glimmering deep in his gaze, like gold coins at the bottom of a well. And that gave me the courage to speak.
“Of course not, my Prince.” I softened my expression and filled it with love. “I am yours. I have never been with another man.”
In his bedchamber, the Prince often instructed his male slaves to give his wives and concubines pleasure while he watched. However, only the Prince himself was allowed to father children with his women, and thus I had never had vaginal sex with anyone but him.
He looked into my eyes for a long, long moment. Although I quaked inside, I made sure not to look away. I love you, I thought, hoping it showed in my eyes. I will always love you, my Prince. Don’t be angry with me.
Eventually, he blinked, and a little of his anger faded. If I had thought to placate him, however, I was sorely mistaken.
“If what you say is the truth,” he snapped, “why are others making up these lies?”
I bit my bottom lip and lowered my gaze. I knew who had started the rumor. I did not dare speak of it, though. We had already irritated the Prince with our devious pranks and squabbles.
But he was not going to let me get away with it. “You know.” He tugged my chin up hard to meet my gaze again. “Tell me, or I will beat it out of you.”
He had never touched a hand to me, apart from during sex, where sometimes he smacked me, an act that we both enjoyed. But he had never beaten me, or any of his other women, to my knowledge. Would he really do it now? I could not tell.
His eyes had lost the customary warmth they usually retained when they looked at me. They were cold and flat, like the disc of the full moon now obscured by the swirling clouds of sand. It made me want to cry, and I did not cry lightly.
I didn’t want to get Alesha into trouble, but equally she had overstepped the mark by accusing me of infidelity. New to the harem, she did not understand how dangerous such an accusation could be.
And besides, I had to say something. Clearly, he’d gathered that I’d worked out what had happened.
“Please don’t be angry,” I begged. “I know it was only meant as a prank—she doesn’t understand how terrible it is to make such a charge against one of your wives…”
His eyes widened. Then, slowly, they narrowed. His chest heaved, and I could see the anger coming to the boil.
I pressed a hand to my mouth. “Please…”
Ignoring me, he pushed himself to his feet and turned to Malik, one of his slaves. “Go and get Alesha,” he said quietly. When Malik obviously didn’t move quickly enough, the Prince added with a bellow, “Now!”
Chapter Two
Malik scurried from the room. I continued to kneel, feeling miserable and dejected. Not only was I in trouble, I’d now landed Alesha in trouble too. It’s her own fault! my brain yelled. She started it!
But she hadn’t started it—that was the problem. I’d pushed her to make the accusation, driven by my own jealousy of her position as newest wife, and my envy of her tender relationship with the Prince.
I wanted to scramble to my feet, run up to him, and beg him to listen to me. On another night I might have done so—although he was a man used to being obeyed, with me he had always been indulgent, and I knew him well enough to be able to manipulate him a little when I needed to.
Or at least I’d thought I had. I didn’t recognize this angry, glowering man before me, who stalked the room like the tigers the Indian wives had told us about over dinner.
My time with the Prince was often limited. We sometimes shared meals, and I saw him at the occasional state meeting or religious and cultural celebrations, but most of our time together was spent alone or in small groups in his bedchamber.
I knew of course that he was the Prince of Samarkand, that he was the richest and most powerful man in the country, and I had heard of his prowess on the battlefield, as well as his amazing technological inventions that men were talking about far and wide.
Still, although the Prince I knew had an insatiable sexual appetite, he was gentle, affectionate, warm, and kind, with a wry sense of humor and a teasing manner, and sometimes I forgot about the other side of him that everyone else saw.
Tonight, though, I was reminded vividly that he led men into battle, that he was skilled in politics, and that for all his youth he was well respected and even feared across the country.
As I knelt there, my heart in my mouth, I was amazed that I had ever had the courage to talk back to him or disobey him. You little fool, I scolded myself, tears stinging my eyes. I had been jealous of Alesha because he had paid her some attention, and the two of us had been squabbling over him like children the way two penniless peasants might argue over which one owned the ci
ty in which they lived. That was why he was angry.
Outside, the wind howled, and at one point the shutters flew open, crashing against the walls with a bang. A swirl of sand blew through the window, scattering over me, glittering in the light of the torches in the sconces on the wall. I sneezed, and the Prince walked over to fasten the shutters again.
“Be healthy,” he said absently, walking past me.
“Thank you.” I rubbed my nose.
For the first time since he’d dragged me out of the harem, I felt a little swell of hope. He was furious at what we’d done, and I knew we’d overstepped the mark, but we were still his wives. He loved us both—I had no doubt of that.
I clung to that thought as he resumed his pacing, his hands behind his back. Hopefully whatever punishment he decided to give us would not be as bad as I’d originally feared.
It was not long before the doors opened again. I glanced over to see Malik enter, one hand in the center of Alesha’s back, guiding her. I was glad he was there with us. Malik was the Prince’s favorite slave. The Prince enjoyed watching the man give us pleasure, and would often join in with us, taking his own enjoyment from both man and woman as it pleased him on the night. Malik loved us all, and he was very protective of us and gentle with the Prince’s women.
Still, even he would not contradict the Prince, whose face had turned once again to stone. Directing Alesha to stand beside me, Malik left her there and rejoined the other three slaves.
“Kneel,” the Prince instructed.
She dropped immediately to her knees. Although she occasionally pretended to challenge him, she was a lot less rebellious than me, and I knew the Prince liked her obedient nature.
I looked sadly at the floor, wishing I had been born more compliant. I had thought the Prince delighted in my defiance, and that he enjoyed the battle of trying to tame me, but maybe I’d been wrong.
He stood before us, hands on his hips. Alesha quivered beside me. A couple of years younger than me, she was not as used to handling men as I was, and I could see her fear, her uncertainty about what was going to happen.
“Farah tells me that the rumor travelling around the palace about her infidelity has been spread by you. Is this true?”
She inhaled sharply and threw me a glare before looking back at the floor. My shoulders slumped. I had not mentioned her name, but she would not know that.
“Is it?” he demanded.
She set her jaw. “It is only because the other day when you sent for me, Farah told Malik that I had my monthly bleed and I did not!”
I gaped at the way she’d happily told him of my indiscretion. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but as always I turned to offense as the best form of defense. “I only did that because you told the Prince I had a stomach upset and was not available!”
“And I only did that because you—”
“Enough!” The Prince yelled at us both. Sinking his hands into his hair, he paced away and then back, his eyes wild. “You two are driving me mad!”
He dropped his hands to his hips again and glared at me. His hair stuck up all over his head, but I didn’t dare say anything.
He walked over to Malik and stared at him as if looking for help. Malik met his gaze, and I was sure I saw his lips twitch as he gave a tiny shrug.
“Thank you for your help,” the Prince snapped. Malik dropped his gaze, chewing his bottom lip. The Prince growled and walked back over to us.
I studied his feet. I wanted to look up at him, but I didn’t want to make him any angrier.
He blew out a long, frustrated breath. “Alesha, do you know the penalty for committing adultery?”
She frowned and studied her hands.
He dropped to his haunches before her. “It is death,” he said softly.
Her gaze snapped up to his, and her jaw dropped.
“Is that what you want for Farah? Do you hate her so much?”
My gaze slid across to her, and I watched her bottom lip tremble. “No, my Prince,” she whispered.
“Good.” He studied her face for a moment, then pushed himself up again and addressed us both.
“Your recent behavior is completely unacceptable.”
“Yes, my Prince,” we both muttered.
“You have embarrassed me in front of our visitors, which is humiliating and displeasing.”
I closed my eyes. The last thing in the world I would have wanted was to humiliate him. “Yes, my Prince,” I whispered, and heard Alesha echo the words.
“You have caused gossip, discontent, and restlessness in the palace and especially in the harem,” he said. “I will not tolerate that.”
“No, my Prince.”
“And last, but by no means least, you have made me angry at you both, and that makes me very unhappy.”
Neither of us said anything, too miserable and wretched to reply.
“I love every woman in my harem,” he said fiercely. “And I love you all equally. I want it to be a place of warmth and affection, and for you all to support and care for each other. One day you will both have children, as will many of the other women there, and the children deserve to be brought up in a happy, loving household.”
Emotion washed over me, and I swallowed hard.
“Have I mistreated you?” he asked.
“No, my Prince!” we replied, startled.
“Do I not give you pleasure regularly—do I not show my affection and love for you both?”
“You do, my Prince!” we insisted.
He looked genuinely puzzled. “Then I do not understand this rivalry that has grown up between you. I do not belong to either of you—to any woman in fact. You must learn to share me. I send for whomever I choose to come to my bedchamber—sometimes it will be one of you, sometimes both, sometimes neither. It is my choice, and I do not expect to be made to feel guilty by having you sulking and resentful.”
He blew out another long breath. “I want you to love each other, and I want you to behave as is appropriate for the wives of the Prince of Samarkand. That means acting with dignity and grace. Is that clear?”
We both nodded.
“Good.” He had been pacing again, but finally stopped before us. “Now we must consider your punishment for your transgressions.”
I held my breath. From his gentle tone, I’d thought he had forgiven us, but his words suggested otherwise.
Next to me, Alesha inhaled sharply, and I felt her shiver.
The Prince said nothing, and I risked a glance up. I met his gaze. His eyes were dark, thoughtful, and as they met mine, I thought I saw a glimmer of amusement pass through them. I knew that look. My lips parted, and warmth spread through me from head to toe.
Placing his hands behind his back, he turned to the slaves waiting patiently for his command.
“Take them,” he said. “Strip them. And tie them to the bed.”
Chapter Three
My heart immediately began to race at twice its normal speed.
I scrambled to my feet and faced the two slaves who came for me. I wasn’t surprised to see Malik head for Alesha. He held deep affection for me, but no doubt he had some idea of what the Prince had planned, and he would know that Alesha was still not quite as comfortable with some of the acts the Prince demanded of her as I was.
I surprised myself by feeling relief that Malik was going to look after her. The Prince was right. We were like sisters now, and we should take care of one another. As the older of the two of us and because I had been here longer—plus because I considered myself braver and more adventurous—I should be the one to guide her and teach by example.
I resolved never to play a prank on her again. If the Prince preferred her in his bed, it was something I was going to have to get used to.
Malik was joined by the slave called Hamal, a quiet, gentle man who always followed Malik’s lead. Together they began to remove Alesha’s clothing.
I turned to the other two slaves, Jasim and Kedar, who came over to me. Jasim was slen
der and wiry, somewhat mischievous, lively in bed, and one of the Prince’s favorites when he was in a naughty mood.
Kedar was older, often rougher, and did exactly what the Prince asked of him, whereas the others would often try to temper their strength or roughness when they thought they could get away with it.
I swallowed down my nerves and let Jasim unbutton my tunic. He was facing me, his back to the Prince, and as I looked up, Jasim winked. I looked down again, my heart still racing, uncertain of what the Prince was going to do. I knew he was going to punish us, but he had never shown any inclination of enjoying watching other men hurt me. Until now.
I gulped as Jasim pulled the tunic over my head and Kedar yanked my trousers roughly down my legs. I risked a glance across at the Prince. He stood at the foot of the bed, hands still behind his back, watching us. His expression was unreadable.
I love every woman in my harem, he had said, And I love you all equally. He still loved me. He wouldn’t want me to come to harm.
I tried to reassure myself. It didn’t work.
Jasim took my hand and let me over to the bed, parted the gauzy curtains, and gestured for me to climb on. I did so, and Alesha joined me, lying on my right.
We lay back against the pillows, and I turned my head to look at her. Her wide eyes held fear and her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breaths. I gave her a small smile to show her that she wasn’t alone.
Malik had fetched a handful of scarves, and he brought them through the curtains and divided them between the others. Together, the four of them tied our hands to the carved posts at the head of the bed.
I knew Malik would ensure Alesha’s weren’t tied too tight. Kedar showed no such generosity, however, tying mine in such a way that I knew they would leave red marks.
I glanced over at the Prince, who’d come through the curtains and was standing at the foot of the bed, but although he met my gaze, he didn’t say anything.
When all four of our hands were tied, the slaves stood back. The two of us lay there, exposed and vulnerable, both breathing heavily. The Prince’s hot gaze raked us, and I tried not to fidget.
The Prince's Harem Box Set: The Prince's Harem Books 1-5 Page 6
