by Clare London
There was silence in the room. Some of the Royal Guard exchanged quick glances and a couple of the Secretaries looked pale. I’d reported these tales at the time to my Mistress, but she’d dismissed them as anecdotal. I’d asked to increase the Guard at the eastern gate where I felt the Household was most vulnerable, but she’d insisted I wait until we had trained the new Bronzemen and had more resources. It had been her decision, as was every decision concerning the Household.
It wasn’t for me to question her—but nor did I agree.
“I have heard similar tales,” Mistress Seleste said. “I am glad you confirm them, though I am not pleased that our city may be more at risk than we thought.”
I bowed my head slightly in thanks for her words, but I was also slightly shocked at her implied criticism of the Queen. The last few Bulletins from the Royal Household had insisted there was no threat from the Exiles and all measures had been taken to make us impervious to attack.
“You may go now, Maen” came my Mistress’s sharp tone, and there was no argument from Mistress Seleste.
But as I bowed to make my exit, a secretary passed a slip of paper into my hand. After I left the room, I opened it quickly.
See me in the guest bath rooms in an hour. The only signature was a royal seal and the initial S.
THE BATH rooms were deserted, though still hot from the evening’s bathing. Most of the Ladies from the royal party had rested, cleansed, and gossiped their evening away there while their Queen-Elect was in conference. I stood just inside the door, the residual heat making my skin clammy. I loosened the neck of my vest, glad I’d left the tunic off. There was no one to be seen. Even the Remainders who cleaned out the rooms had finished their work and gone to other duties.
And then she was there, beside me. It was incredible the Queen-Elect should be wandering around the Household at this late hour without the company of either Lady or Warrior! But then, I’d learned that Mistress Seleste was a rule unto herself. I also knew the Gold Warrior who’d accompanied her here, Jarmen—pompous and poorly trained. Adequate enough with the support of his Guard around him, but nothing more. It didn’t surprise me that she’d slipped his watch so easily.
“I sent the foolish Jarmen away on some spurious errand,” she said softly. I believed that all the Mistresses studied at the House of Magic at some stage of their lives—it was the only explanation I’d found for their uncanny ability to know what a man’s thoughts were. “You think him useless, don’t you, Maen?”
“No, not useless,” I said cautiously.
She moved out from the slightly steamy shadows of the towel room to face me, laughing gently. “Always so diplomatic. Yet your standards are the highest there are, and I know you would scorn Jarmen in your Guard. There are so few like you, so very few.”
“Mistress,” I murmured. There really was nothing else I could say to her in reply. She was fully clothed, a situation for which I gave thanks, for I had no desire to be found alone with the unaccompanied Queen-Elect dressed in nothing but a towel, however delicious the thought may be in the minds of many a soldier tonight.
She took my arm and drew us both into a vacant steam room. They were luxurious enough in our Household and only for the use of the Ladies, but she still wrinkled up her nose at the sparse furnishings and picked fitfully at the quality of the towels. She didn’t close the door behind us, but she stood near it, effectively blocking my exit until she should choose to dismiss me.
“I want to know more about the Exiles, Maen, and I want you to find out for me. I suspect your intelligence is better than mine, for I believe Warriors talk to you, exchanging news. They respect you. Whereas they fear me, and their tongues are liable to offer rubbish or lies, which they think will please me.” She saw the slight smile on my face and appeared satisfied at amusing me. Her hand rested lightly on my arm, and I could smell the fragrance she used, unique to the Royal Ladies. It would hang like a persistent memory in my nostrils long after she’d gone. “Maen,” she murmured. “The so-very-perfect soldier…. Why won’t you come to my Household and serve me? I could demand it, you know. It would be impossible for Luana to refuse me if I ordered it in the name of the Queen.”
“I can serve the city as well here,” I said, just as gently. “But of course I’m a servant of the city. Whatever the Queen wishes, I will do. Though I believe her Guard is already the best the city can provide.”
Seleste’s laugh was louder now. “You’re such a good companion. You speak so loyally, and yet I know what your heart says underneath the doctrine, underlying your most correct Devotions. It speaks its own mind to you, eh?” She must have seen me startle, for her brow furrowed for a moment. “Have I said something to disturb you? I’d regret that, I think.”
I shook my head. She couldn’t really have known anything about my deeper thoughts. Her words were only a repeat of her frequent request, her frequent appraisal of my abilities. She’d made the offer for me to join her own Guard last year, and reiterated it several times since. But she had no real knowledge of me as a man or of my life here in the Household. My duties; my men. I was purely a soldier to her. We didn’t merit close attention, and we had no right to hold any secrets or thoughts of our own. I glanced at the doorway. I didn’t want to offend her, but this whole situation was unsettling.
“There’s something about you, Gold Warrior.”
She sighed, sounding wistful, but a glance at her face showed her eyes sparkling with something more like mischief. She played with people; I knew that, in both physical and emotional ways. I never saw Mistress Luana more upset than when Mistress Seleste was mentioned. I myself tried not to remember her dealings with me—it led to broken nights.
“You are not the toy the other men are. Yet you are loyal to a fault: a totally committed servant of the city and our Queen. In fact,” she said, rather slyly running a hand up my arm to my shoulder, a finger trailing at the hollow of my neck, “you are everything I need to support my claim to the Queenship.”
I knew of the approaching event—who didn’t? The current Queen would leave us at the end of next year, and the battle would commence for her successor. The Queen was the only person in the whole city who kept her blood children near her from birth. Her daughters, anyway. I had no knowledge of the Queen ever giving birth to a son or what might have become of him. And the daughters were raised to fight for that birthright. For those old enough to take the position as Queen, there’d be a magnificent, awesome, deadly battle between them, held at the arena for all Ladies to attend. I’d attended the last one, almost ten years back, as a raw Silver Captain accompanying my Mistress, when the current Queen had defeated her sisters and taken the role. She’d then taken up residence in the Royal Household, and her own daughters had begun their preparations for the very same event in years to come. Mistress Seleste would have been only a few years past schooling age then. She’d certainly matured as a young woman since.
I remembered asking what happened to the surviving women who lost the battle, but Mistress Luana had given me no answer. I’d thought at the time she was scornful of my questions. I was very young and dreaming of promotion to Gold Warrior one day, with great excitement and pride. I was still greatly in awe of my Mistress and all she represented. But after more years at the barracks and a successful career, I’d talked to other Gold Warriors about this. They’d led me to believe that her silence was more sinister.
“You have good servants and a fine Guard, Mistress. You’ll be well placed when it comes to the battle for Queenship.”
She made a brisk sound of frustration. “I’ll win the battle, have no fear! None of my sisters has the ambition that I do. None has the appetite for it. You know my strengths and my determination, don’t you, Maen? But with you in my Household as well, my campaign would be guaranteed.” Her eyes met mine. “We’d have success, soldier. And satisfaction.”
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and her mind was sharp, swift, and challenging. Next to my loyal
ty for Mistress Luana, I was fascinated by Mistress Seleste. I thought it a good thing she visited so rarely, for I had no desire to be distracted by such a woman. She might request me now, but when her call was over, she’d grow bored and turn to another plaything—or three. I knew that’d be the case, despite what she’d told me a year ago, cosseted in fine, linen bedding, with her gasps still whispering in my ears at the end of our athletic passion. There’d been something furious in her desire when she called me, something greedy.
I’d been called by many Ladies since I was a Bronzeman, and known many types of passion and need. Some Ladies were careless with men; some were eager to act out roles that they were too afraid of in their real lives. But never had any of them been like Mistress Seleste. She didn’t seek to hurt either of us that night, but her hands and lips were shockingly experienced and she raised my desire to a pitch no one else ever had. Touching and pleasing her smooth, naked skin also allowed me my only ever view of the royal brand, something that most common people would never see in their entire life, for the Ladies—especially royal daughters—were traditionally discreet in their dress. It was a far more exotic design than the other Household brands and often embellished by each new Queen: a tattooed oval border of entwined vines, ribbons and lettering around a sensual woman with arms outstretched. It was the definitive representation of the original Queens who had colonized the planet and created the world we lived in.
In bed, Seleste became more of a woman than a politician, yet still something to be feared. But she’d treated me well. Her coupling was graceful and satisfying, and she spoke to me by name. She seemed to see my person, rather than just a tool for her pleasure. Maybe I fooled myself. I think many men did when they serviced Mistress Seleste.
That night, she shed tears of both passion and some indefinable anguish. She used me all through the dark hours. Her gaze had followed mine as I moved inside her, watching me darkly, hungrily, as if she sucked more than my eager cock into her body, demanded more than my almost uncontrollable climax within her hot flesh.
Yes, Mistress Seleste had been decidedly un-Queenly that time—and the several times after, until her visit ended and she and her Guard returned to the Queen’s Household. I’d been the butt of jokes in the barracks for many weeks, and even now they nudged each other when the Queen was mentioned, and slid sidelong glances at me. The Bronzemen had been used but discarded after a night, and were confused that a Gold Warrior had merited more attention from the Queen-Elect than they had. So, for that matter, was I.
But it had been a personally rewarding time, both physically and intellectually. There was something special about her that marked her apart from the other Ladies, the more traditional Mistresses. I’d never considered for a moment that I wouldn’t meet her here tonight. Of course, I should have reported the call to my Mistress, who would have demanded a full process of permission. By which time, Mistress Seleste would likely have grown bored and moved to another man. But I hadn’t. I’d wanted to see her just as eagerly. I wondered what my true reasons were.
Now, my silence answered her attentions instead of words, for although she allowed me to speak fairly freely, I wouldn’t have replied with anything but my loyalty and devotion to my Mistress. And Mistress Seleste knew that. She leaned away as if in a playful mood. “So instead we must speak of sensible Household matters. I’ve seen your Bronzemen this year—an excellent intake! Your Captains have presented them as the introduction to the Games on the third day. Perhaps I’ll have a need for more entertainment than just you tonight. Perhaps some of them could join you in my room. To please me. Some of the blond ones are the finest….”
I felt my heart beating too fast, too hard. I was afraid Mistress Seleste would see my disturbance—that she’d misunderstand it. Or maybe understand too well. Suddenly my whole life was rocking on its foundations. It was within her rights to demand any of them, of course it was, but why must she announce it before me now? What was her purpose?
“Or maybe not.” She laughed, breaking the mood. I didn’t know if she’d seen the instinctive reaction in my face. “It has been a tiring journey, and even more tiring politicking.”
She moved aside then, allowing me to leave, but she watched me still. There was an unusual expression in them, and I was startled to see vulnerability. I’d seen it in young Bronzemen when they arrived; I’d seen it in less experienced Ladies, faced with the instruction and control of a bold, strong soldier. “Do you understand the allowances I’ve made for you tonight, Maen?” she said. “You, who are just a man?”
“I do, Mistress,” I said levelly.
She nodded, as if pleased we understood each other. That strange expression flickered in her eyes again, and she seemed much younger, even though I knew there were only a few years between us. “If things were different here, Maen, we might be something else to each other, I think.”
What did she mean? The uncertainty shook me again. Recently, there were too many things that threatened my equilibrium, and I was afraid Mistress Seleste would see my weakness. Then she turned back into the royal person that she was and answered herself. “But they’re not, of course, are they? Everything is as it always is, as balanced as it’s always been. As the Queen wishes it to be.” I watched her face openly now, and when she turned those deep, dark eyes to me, my gaze sank into them. “Kiss me,” she murmured. “With your tongue, with firm lips.”
It was an order I’d expected, and I took her head in my hands and carried it out with plenty of my own pleasure. Her mouth tasted of the sweet fruits that their color imitated. My body responded quickly and with an almost frightening anticipation.
Mistress Seleste sighed into my mouth as we broke gently apart. “Why do you cling to her, Maen? To your Mistress? To this rather tedious Household, which gives nothing but accounting, frustration, and disapproval to the rest of the city?”
I smiled, feeling the movement of my lips on hers. “I go where I’m bid, Mistress.”
“No,” she replied. “Never has that been less true of a man, Gold Warrior.”
I sighed too. Mistress Seleste deserved a better response from me. “I feel loyalty to her, a great regard. I can see my achievements here and be pleased with them. I have many good memories here.”
“Past friends?” She put an unusual emphasis on friends.
“Yes.”
“And current, maybe?”
I drew a shallow breath and pulled away from her. “That wouldn’t be appropriate, Mistress. The rules don’t allow personal liaisons, as you know.”
“As I know.” She nodded, her imperious tone returning. Her hand traced my jaw line with some reluctance as she pulled away. “I believe there’s something you must tell me, Maen.”
She startled me. “About the Exiles?”
“Maybe, but other things too.”
By now I’d gained control of myself, and I looked back at her with confidence.
She stared for a while, even as she tugged her cloak back around her. “Come to me later. I have the appropriate permission from your Mistress. I will expect you an hour after midnight.”
I NEVER met the appointment with Mistress Seleste. It was less than an hour from midnight when a hammering at my office door broke the peace, and Dax—of all people—half fell through the door. I rose immediately from my chair, my cup overturning, my papers brushed aside. His clothes were torn, his hair tangled, and there was no sign of his weapon. When he stared at me, his eyes were wild with fear.
“Report!” I snapped at him, knowing the commander’s voice would be the best to calm his obvious panic.
“Exiles! Ex… a pack of them! Sir…. Maen, sir. There are injured Captains—”
I was at his side in an instant. I grabbed his arm and stared into his frightened face. “What do you mean, boy? Where are the Exiles? Where’s the attack?” I remembered Grien had sent Bronzemen to help cover the eastern gate. At once, I knew Dax had been one of them. I cursed Grien for allowing such inexperienced soldiers i
nto active duties, and I cursed myself for dallying with the Queen-Elect, for not being there to support them as I’d planned.
Dax was gulping in large breaths, obviously trying to gather his wits to report properly. I admired him for that, for he was young and scared. “The eastern gate, sir! I was there—with Orven and Justes. Also two of the other Bronzemen. They… they’ve been hit, sir, with arrows, then swords of a strange, primitive design. I’ve never seen such things before—”
I put my hand on his shoulder to steady him. His eyes were wet with threatening tears, and he clutched at his elbow suddenly as if it pained him. “You’re injured?” I asked urgently. “How are the others?”
Dax paled. “I’m fine, sir. I can… I’m fine. One of the Bronzemen… he’s dead, I think, sir. The other ran for cover. Justes… I think he may be…. I don’t know!”
He struggled with his emotions and his need to communicate with me. I suddenly realized how frightened I was, that he might have been hurt, maybe killed. I was angry for my other men—but for Dax, it was some other, stronger emotion. I pushed the perplexing and alien thoughts away. “Where’s Orven? Didn’t he protect you all?”
Dax flushed darkly, shaking his head, and I wanted to strike him in return. Didn’t he realize he had to tell me the extent of the problem? “Tell me everything, or I’ll kill you myself, boy!”
“He was with me, sir. We were… apart from the others. He was—” He gave a sharp, unintelligible curse that I could only think was in some Remainder dialect. “I’ll not protect him, sir, though he threatened me. He wanted to touch me. He took me aside on some pretext, and then he tried to push me to my knees, to take his cock in my mouth and suck on it.”