by Clare London
Branded
By Clare London
Maen is a Gold Warrior, an elite defender of Aza City, respected by his fellow soldiers and favored by his imperious Mistress for services both in and out of the bedchamber. His loyalty and commitment are unwavering until he recruits Dax, a captivating and challenging Bronzeman who, despite his youth and inexperience, seduces Maen with his fierce hero worship. When they’re captured by enemies of the City, Maen risks everything to save Dax: his position, his faith, and even his life. But he loses his lover to the rebels and upon his return to the City is stripped of his rank.
In Aza, where a soldier’s only lawful devotion is to the City and his Mistress’s pleasure, the disgraced Maen is placed under the watchful guard of the arrogant Gold Warrior Zander and relegated to preparing a Royal History for the new Queen. But his discoveries cast a new and shocking light on the past and threaten to stir revolution in both citizens and rebels. With the help of the lively and inquisitive scribe Kiel, Maen initiates a chain of events that will change their world forever—and offer him the chance to regain both his honor and his heart’s desire.
Chapter One
THE DAY was so much hotter than it should have been—it seemed the climate grew more erratic every spring. Unless I was planning a campaign, I rarely listened to the ramblings of the Weather Weavers, but occasionally I’d admit they were right to complain about it. Today the breastplate and leggings of my dress uniform were awkward and my helmet too heavy. I could feel my long hair sticking to my scalp with sweat, and my sword belt dragged painfully at my waist. But I’d worn all of this for many years. I, of all men, had no reason to complain.
Inside the arena, the sanded floor had been brushed down and the stone steps prepared for today’s event—the Choosing for Aza City. It was a very public venue and well used. I could see how tired its decoration looked. The structure always remained dirty, despite regular scrubbing by hordes of cleaners. Construction work was habitual throughout the city, and it proved difficult to keep buildings at their best. But I saw evidence of attempts to make the arena look glamorous for this occasion. Banners and notice boards had been hung from the pillars at the side, the flags of the Households of the city flew proudly along the top wall, and there were plenty of facilities to feed, clean, and relieve the large number of visitors that flocked in today. This event had occurred annually for hundreds of years; there were few excuses for it to be less than spectacular.
Most of the Households had already arrived, settling with blankets and folded chairs, erecting sunshades for the Mistresses, preparing refreshments in case the public supplies were inadequate. Each Mistress was attended by a few of her Ladies, and most of them also had the company of soldiers from their Guard. This had often seemed ludicrous to me, for what military danger would there be during a Choosing? Everyone’s attention would be on very different things! But it was a matter of prestige. I’d always accompanied my Mistress, ever since I qualified as a Silver Captain under Bernos, the serving Gold Warrior of the time. Now I stood as a Gold Warrior myself—the highest honor there could be for a soldier, let alone a man.
The Mistresses were excited to meet each other, and high-pitched female chatter choked the air around us. It would get fiercer once the bidding began. Many of them only saw each other at these events, and although some were glad for this, others regretted it and regularly made plans to travel more to visit. Whatever their pleasure at seeing friends, however, their gazes still strayed frequently into the center of the arena, to the ring where this year’s candidates would soon appear. That was, after all, the main purpose of the day.
A couple of my Silver Captains stood at my Mistress’s side. I watched them closely, for I was currently displeased with their lack of attention to her. She may have found them interesting in bed, but I demanded far more of them than a pleasing prick. It was an honor to be chosen for today’s duty, and I expected them to anticipate their Mistress’s discomfort. She had to stand for long hours at the side of the ring with an inadequate sunshade and nothing but cooled water when the serving children came past. Today she wore a thin pale blue shift in deference to the weather, and a cloak in a light fabric. Her badge of office was a pendant around her neck. Her head was uncovered, her long dark hair caught loosely at the back of her neck with a brooch. She was no longer as young as many of her favorite Ladies, but her skin was smooth, her hair glossy with aromatic oil, and her brown eyes very bright. She was a faithful follower of the Devotions. In return, they repaid her with good health and delayed aging. That’s how things were in the city: we all benefited in many ways from the Devotions.
Just about then, she caught my eye and raised her eyebrows. She was amused at my frustration with the men. I swear the woman should have been Mistress of Magic, not of the Exchequer. She had a sharp, often wicked perception that many underestimated.
“Leave them be, Maen,” she murmured, leaning toward me from her position on the steps so that others wouldn’t hear. “They’re excited by this as well. It’s an upheaval for them, this time of year. When I ask for something, they will be speedier than the hare to fetch it, never fear.”
She’d used my personal name rather than my rank, and that was frowned on socially, though of course I wouldn’t chastise her. It was a measure of the time we had been together and the ease we had between us—and also, perhaps, her sometimes worrying tendency to chafe at the more formal requirements of her position.
“Excitement is not part of their official duty, Mistress,” I replied rather dryly.
But maybe they overheard me. The blond Justes straightened his shoulders guiltily and snagged another cup of water from a passing refreshment tray.
My Mistress smiled, unconcerned. When Justes handed her the water with the appropriate greeting and the brief but formal salute of a palm to his heart, she caught at his fingertips for a little longer than necessary. His eyes flashed with passion and pride; he would be the one she took tonight, in all probability. She liked his combination of strength and soft skin—he had the flexibility of a gymnast and the reflexes of a cat. Or so word had it in the barracks.
Mistress Luana was always interested in such things.
“The Choosing of the Bronzemen… don’t you remember it yourself, Maen?” Her gaze met mine with an innocent expression that I knew to be contrived. I’d been in her Household for my ten years of adult life. By now I should know her character well, both as a woman and as a Mistress. “Is that all too long ago, my grown-up Gold Warrior? Too long to remember yourself as a young boy on the cusp of adulthood, desperate to impress, desperate to be chosen by a good Mistress?”
“I remember,” I said, determined to say no more unless she insisted.
“Or perhaps the memories are clearer from when you were first a Silver Captain. One of our youngest to qualify, I believe. One of our finest athletes and also our most excellent swordsman, which is indeed still the case. You stood here, like Justes and… the other one.” Her memory failed her, for she couldn’t always remember the names of all the men she called unless they became particular favorites. “You watched all the young boys, all the potential Bronzemen, full of your professional criticism, questioning whether they would be a good crop that year.”
“I wondered what Bernos would make of them,” I said. “Whether they’d make good soldiers.”
She smiled. “Whether they would be good servants in many ways, Maen! Whatever Bernos—and those before him—may have recommended, I don’t choose only on the basis of potential military skills. As I said, it’s a difficult time for the Silvers. There’ll be a new batch of these gorgeous young things in the Household. My attention will be drawn away from the Silvers themselves, along with the other Ladies’. There’ll be a time of some insecurity and frustration, until the
positions have been reestablished in the Household—”
“And in the Guard itself,” I added. “For they will be soldiers first and foremost.” I took a risk, interrupting her. But she’d let me know many times that she would allow me to banter with her. I believed she enjoyed it.
She laughed softly, and Justes turned his head sharply to see if she called him, but she waved him back. She looked up into my face—I was a good head taller than her—and smiled purely for my benefit. “Did you never worry that I would tire of you, that each year I would prefer the new, soft young bodies to your fiercely toned soldier’s muscles? That you’d languish in my indifference with nothing but your barrack companions for physical relief? That my gifts would be given to others, now and for the foreseeable future?”
“I’ve never had any interest in gifts,” I said a little too sharply. I felt Justes’s gaze on me now, but he would never challenge me, his commander, in public.
Mistress Luana’s eyes softened. “I know, dear Gold Warrior. And that’s partly why you’ve been my most frequent companion, ever since you were a callow Bronze with legs that seemed too slender to hold up your finely developing torso, and that bright copper hair that would never lie still, but with a sparkle of certainty in your eye that made my choice a very easy one that day. And your loyalty and devotion has remained constant all through your years as a Silver, hasn’t it? As my most handsome and most decorated soldier, then as my most accomplished Gold, now in charge of those that followed you. And always as a fine and enthusiastic visitor to my chambers.”
“Mistress,” I murmured, disconcerted. She shouldn’t be talking this way. I wished the Choosing would begin on time today and distract her. This was the stuff she murmured in bed at night to make me blush and shift in awkwardness as she both embarrassed and stimulated me, the stuff that would then make her laugh, and me along with her, as she drew me in closer and used me as she wished. She was a generous Mistress, for she had no need to make my time so enjoyable. I was entirely at her call, like any man of her Household, regardless of my own desires. I trusted she was as selfless with all lovers, not just me and, in return, I knew my role would never be exclusive. Her comments were for the softness of the pillow, not for my own pride.
But she made me smile in return. She made me hungry for her, and so, in turn, I could satisfy her. It had been a very good ten years since my Choosing. I wondered how many other Gold Warriors could say the same.
“MISTRESS,” ANNOUNCED the other Silver Captain, Orven. I frowned. His voice was pitched too harshly to be acceptably polite, and his stance and behavior were still below standard. It was likely I’d have him whipped later. There were many other Households represented here today, many other Guards, and I wouldn’t have any of my men disgrace the Mistress in any way. Our standards had brought us respect throughout Aza City.
Orven coughed and amended his tone. “The Choosing is beginning. The Negotiators have entered the ring.”
There was movement all around the arena, some of the groups moving forward for a better view. The refreshment servants moved out into the aisles. Soldiers shifted their swords into a defensive position with a metallic clatter, and the conversation of the Ladies quieted. The steps were covered in a jumble of bright clothing and polished armor, simple but brilliantly colored jewelry, and badges of office glinting in the reflected sunlight. A young woman laughed particularly loudly.
The senior Negotiator marched into the central ring and waved to the applause. A voice trumpet amplified his voice, though most of the men who aspire to that role already have a fine speaking voice and can project their words easily. Negotiators are chosen by, and for, the House of Trade. They would have been through Bronzeman training themselves, though few progressed as far as Silver Captain before being taken aside for specialist training.
I confess I barely listened to the opening speeches, the announcement of the Houses represented, the declaration of the number of young men to be viewed today, and the more amusing stories told to flatter the Ladies and to encourage attention. I only needed to know where the credits were recorded, so I could settle up and sign for any of my Mistress’s procurements and make arrangements for transport of the boys to her Household tomorrow.
I stood at attention for the Confirmation of Life—to declare “Good wishes for the city and devotion to the Queen!” Everyone did, whether or not the acolytes of the Household of Devotion were there to ensure it. For those few communal moments, there was a swell of mumbled voices around the arena: soldiers with their palms at their hearts, Ladies with heads bowed slightly. It was a proud sight.
Then the proceedings started in earnest. Mistress Luana nodded her pleasure and gestured for us to move farther to the front. She was a short, slight woman, and I knew of at least one year when she missed procuring a young man who’d caught her eye because the Mistress of Physic had stepped in front of her at the critical moment and made the successful bid. I also knew she’d taken her revenge a week later, when my intelligence had told her the Mistress of Physic was taking a trip, leaving her Household unattended for three days. Mistress Luana created a spurious reason to visit the Physic Household and had availed herself of the youth’s attentions for the whole of two long nights. She was gone back to her own Household shortly before the Mistress of Physic returned, only to find her new recruit was already initiated!
It was the normal way of things, and my Mistress gained a good deal of amusement from it, as well as sexual satisfaction. All the Bronzemen were available to any Mistress from the time of their procurement, and it would have been unthinkable rudeness to refuse a visiting Mistress the hospitality of any Bronzeman in the Household. There was plenty of this one-upmanship going around; the Mistresses enjoyed the sport, as well as the pleasures of their own Households.
But today my Mistress had a prime position at the ringside and the attention of all three of us to ensure her desires were communicated to the Negotiator.
The first hour was always the most frenzied, when the best of the youngsters were brought out to view. The Negotiator called for them with a grandiose sweep of his arm and his signature sound—a mixture between a song and the caterwauling of kitchen cats, which he’d developed as his own particular style to engage and amuse the crowds. I knew this man slightly. He’d trained under a soldier by the name of Varden, who had once been a Silver Captain alongside me. After Varden displeased my Mistress somehow, she passed him across to the Household of Trade, and he’d prospered there. I had heard they were considering him for promotion to Gold Warrior around the time of my own achievement. I had contacts with Captains in other Households, and a busy, informal channel of news flowed between us. Then the information about Varden ceased, and I never heard any more about him. Some said Varden’s history at our Household had damned him, though I never knew what his fault had been. Privately I thought he’d deserved better luck in life: he was an excellent soldier and the closest I had to a friend. I’d been unhappy to lose his company, though no one sought my opinion on it. Friendships were never a priority for soldiers, and we weren’t allowed the luxury of official favorites, like the Ladies had.
I was distracted from my inappropriate thoughts by the boys filing out from the tower structure at the north end of the arena. The holding rooms were there, plus cleaning facilities and a few Trade offices. The youths had been brought from the Central City School on the previous day, cleaned up, and instructed one more time how to behave. For some of them, it wouldn’t be their first Choosing, but that was all the more reason for them to be alert. A loud wave of noise, laughter, and admiring cries rose from the spectators at their procession into the open arena—a promise that the Choosing would be another rewarding one. The boys wore nothing but cloths folded around their narrow waists and between their legs. The Choosing is always in the warm springtime, and the lack of restrictive, cumbersome clothing kept the children calm as well as allowing the best view of their bodies.
The Negotiator passed down the line, c
alling out the lineage of each youth for the Mistresses to consider the worth and history of the boys’ Households. This had a significant effect on the bidding. Some Households were respected throughout Aza City, offering children both well-bred and much prized. Every child was branded with their mother’s lineage at birth and carried that mark throughout their life. It included the Household mark, and only if they were passed to another Household would there be any further mark added to their birth brand. It wasn’t an advantage to have a trail of Household marks added to your brand—it implied you were a troublesome possession.
The branding process also had more practical benefits. The Choosing was established to be a process of free trade; a Household should never take Bronzemen from their own lineage. We could all imagine the disaster if a Mistress procured her own birth son and was then unable to take him as a lover! It’d make a mockery of the whole process. Every Bronzeman had to be available for the Mistress sexually—and most would be initiated by her over the first few weeks of their time in her Household. Only then would they be available for the Ladies as well.
The boys were drawn to the side, one by one, and turned slowly for the viewing. Most looked bemused, as if their instruction hadn’t prepared them for the reality of the arena. It was a large open-air structure with high, pillared walls, and the numbers attending the event grew every year. The youths saw few soldiers when they were in the school and had been protected from the adult citizens that thronged the city outside. This would be their first exposure to such a crowd. The bidding began with a chaotic process of cries from the crowd and House banners waving frantically to catch the attention of the Negotiator. Some of the youths looked frightened at the sudden swell of noise and the none-too-gentle handling of the Negotiator and his assistants. But as always some responded to the excitement, standing taller and basking in the glamour of it all.