Branded

by Clare London

  It was a secret, if poor, comfort of mine that I could recognize the choices I’d made.

  “You’ll never see him again, or any similar such boy,” she murmured a little sleepily. “I cannot stop your dreams of him at the moment, but never doubt that I will.”

  I’d slept beside her for many weeks now, and she told me I talked in my sleep. I’d never done such a thing when I took my Devotions, yet she hadn’t insisted I start them up again. It was as if she tolerated my indiscretions because they offered her the challenge of dwelling on and delighting in them.

  I rolled her gently onto her side, facing away from me, pressing my body up behind her. She hissed softly. I knew what she liked, and especially in the early morning. My fingers brushed slowly across her bare hip.

  She made a noise of impatience and need. “Why does he still have this hold on you?” she complained. “Don’t I give you enough to devote yourself to? I know what you did. I know what you were to each other, though you’ll never say it aloud. But he was just a boy. You don’t have to be loyal to him anymore, you don’t have to protect him. He’s escaped me for the moment, but that’s because I have no more desire to pursue him. He’s nothing to me. I’ll let the wild animals have his carcass, for he’ll surely have perished outside the city’s protection.” She leaned back against me, provoking my arousal, encouraging the tip of my cock to rub gently against the small of her back. “This is the real world, not your dreams. You’ve lost him forever, whatever happens to him.”

  “I can’t lose what was never mine to have,” I murmured into her soft dark hair.

  She laughed, very softly, and the ripple of her hair tickled my neck. “A wise reply. Sometimes you’re still more soldier than man.” She turned her head on the pillow so I could see her profile. She was truly one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. “Take me again, Maen. I can enjoy you like no other man. I feel the passion inside you with every touch, even though you try so hard to control it. I can release every feeling I have and know it won’t overwhelm you as it has done to others.”

  I kissed her then, slipping my hand between her legs and stroking her gently in preparation for me.

  “Is this so bad?” she whispered. Her body arched against me as I parted her thighs and slid slowly inside her again.

  “No,” I murmured, letting the natural, instinctive pleasure shiver through me.

  Seleste in bed was a very different woman from the cold Mistress of the daytime. I knew she didn’t show this side to others. I knew she spoke to me in ways she wouldn’t allow elsewhere. She did this because I was learning to understand her—and was wise enough to be discreet about it.

  And, of course, I was entirely her property.

  “Can’t you see it’s more than this, Maen?” She liked to talk during coupling, to provoke me, to chide me, sometimes to use obscene words I’d only ever heard in the barracks. I’d never known a Mistress like her. “Can’t you see I care for you?”

  “It’s not allowed,” I replied. That was the standard, correct response.

  She moaned as I thrust more fiercely. “Not yet, no. But it will be. The pattern of life here will change, and we’ll be the stronger for it. One day I will make it so.” She reached back and gripped my hip. “Do you believe I can do that?”

  I breathed deeply as she clutched me against her, drawing me more deeply inside. “Yes, I do. You can, and will, do whatever you choose. And be successful.”

  She twisted suddenly around onto her back, forcing me to pull out of her and reposition myself above her body, taking my weight easily on my arms. I was healthy nowadays, and well recovered from that time at the Household of the Exchequer, for Seleste’s Household looked after its subjects. I ate well and exercised regularly and had enjoyed a partial return to military duties. Now I looked down, panting slightly, but from the stimulation, not lack of breath. We were both damp with sweat. She reached a hand to my chin and turned it from one side to the other, examining my face.

  “Mistress?”

  “Your eyes tell me what I need to know, even if your words don’t.”

  She sighed and dropped her hand back to her side. Her breasts quivered sensuously. I took my cue and leaned down farther, brushing my lips across her left nipple. It was softened with warmth, but sprang back under my touch, once more erect. She sighed again and arched underneath me. “You distract me too well. I can sometimes believe you actually like this life, that you feel something more than duty for me. But then I look into the very deepest center of your eyes and the emptiness shocks me.”

  “I’m the same man as ever,” I said, but I knew I wasn’t. I had changed and would never return to the man she’d first known. Sometimes, though, I thought that was what she wanted. “I’m just a man. A soldier.”

  She laughed again, not quite so softly. “No, you’re far from that. You’re a special man. There’s no other like you, or not that I’ve met. And believe me, I’ve met and known more men than you’ve ever encountered in your Guard or even in your Household. You’ve grown beyond your commission, grown beyond your upbringing and training.” She rolled her legs around me, ready to be pleased again.

  “I’ve no wish to be so different,” I said mildly, knowing that, at one stage, that statement had been true.

  She shrugged and the thin sheen of sweat shimmered on her skin. “You can’t help it. I saw that in you when we first met. I saw wildness and an insubordination that I knew would cause your Mistress—and you, yourself—the greatest trouble. But that passion is what made me want you, too.” She reached up and kissed me. “There’s only one of you, Maen. You can be successful beside me. One day you may even be a Gold Warrior again. I could grant you that. Would you aspire to it?”

  “Whatever pleases you. I’m content to be a soldier again in your Guard.” It was what I knew, and did well. Gradually I was establishing myself with her other men, and the level of suspicion and disgust lessened every day. I would be useful again. Seleste had given me that chance.

  I spread her legs and entered her again, enjoying the touch of her and her vigorous coupling. To be honest, I also enjoyed the games she played and the tension she created even in her most relaxed times. It was a welcome diversion in this strange new role of mine. I had no other.

  Seleste was the only one who had tolerated me when everyone else shunned me. I was a freak in the Royal Household, neither a loyal soldier nor a criminal’s corpse, but something awkwardly in between. She could very much do what she pleased, but it’d still been a risk to take me in: a disgraced Warrior, a man once marked for execution, suspected of one of the worst crimes imaginable.

  But she’d still wanted me and had saved my life. I’d be in her debt for that, even if I’d never asked for it to be saved. Even if I’d never wanted to save it on my own behalf. I was hers now, and we both knew it.

  IT WAS many hours after the sun had set, but I couldn’t settle. Seleste slept soundly while I paced the corridors of her private quarters like a restless animal. Eventually I sat down in one of her leisure rooms, my chair tucked into a corner where I hoped to avoid being noticed. I could hear the sounds of the Guard changing on the hour, the burnished metal of their ceremonial swords ringing in the still air of the corridors, and their low voices exchanging instruction. Otherwise, the night was mercifully quiet. No one expected me there. No one found me.

  Spring would soon be upon us. In Seleste’s Household there’d be an increase in activity, getting ready for many of the New Season festivals that such a prestigious establishment was expected to host, and also in preparation for the Queenship challenges. These began many months before the actual battle, and involved strengthening her Guard and her own personal fighting skills. I’d been disconcerted to be put in charge of the training, but I wasn’t surprised. It was what she’d told me she’d do.

  The Household was beginning to accept me, and in particular around Seleste’s private quarters. Maybe the novelty of my arrival was wearing off. Maybe one day my notor
iety would be forgotten.

  And maybe I was still naive in many ways.

  I stared out of the window, though there was nothing to see in the heavy darkness. I imagined I could see a man who’d escaped the city, who was free even now and returning to health among people who cared for him; a man who’d always be such an integral part of my spirit that I’d hold and treasure his memory inside me until my death.

  I imagined things this way most nights. Some things I would never forget.

  SHE FOUND me when dawn broke, still in my seat.

  “Maen.” Her voice was like a bird’s low call, melodic yet distracting. I wondered where her Ladies were, who should be attending her, and where her Captains were, who should be protecting. But she was alone, and she came to stand beside me. She smelled of fresh, scented water and the gentle musk of her luscious skin. She wore only a simple shift, not yet dressed in her more regal gown and cloak, ready for the official duties of the day.

  “Return to your duty, soldier,” she ordered, though her voice was gentle.

  “I’m… finding it difficult to perform that duty, Mistress.” I hadn’t planned to say it, but the words slipped unguarded from my mouth.

  She was silent for a moment: a wise woman, who knew not to argue with a man’s confusion and pain, even if he were only one of her soldiers. When she spoke again, she sounded cautious. “This isn’t easy for you, I know, and so I have made… allowances. I cannot do that forever.”

  “I don’t ask for anything, not for myself.” I knew I was stepping on forbidden ground, speaking to my Mistress in such a way. But my heart was full. “You don’t need me. You’re ambitious for things that mean little to me. You play with power like it’s fire. It excites you to try to control its flame. I don’t have the heart or the strength to join you in that.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment I thought she’d fly into a rage. The anticipation was almost welcome. But then she put a hand on my shoulder, and when she spoke, her voice was still calm. “Oh, but I do need you, Maen. You’ve played with fire yourself, surely you know that? You’re the only one who can recognize and appreciate that in me. And every day you grow stronger.” When I started to protest, her hand pressed more firmly, to silence me. “I don’t mean just physically. Your emotions are bolder. You’re more assertive. I know your passion is suffusing you, opening up thoughts and feelings you never let loose before.”

  I hung my head, afraid to look at her.

  “That pathetic boy!” She drew a deep breath. Perhaps she was rethinking her words, knowing it would be indiscreet to discuss some things openly in the corridor, even in her private quarters. “That was only one passion, Maen, just one miserly portion of all the fury and desire you have brewing inside you. Your potential is astounding, though you’ll be the last to understand it. I want the rest of you. I want all of it! With me, you’ll learn to control it all, and—soon, very soon—you’ll learn to covet the thrill of that power you accuse me of pursuing.”

  “I have no choice,” I said, my voice almost too low to be heard.

  “That’s true,” Seleste replied with spirit. “You have no choice. I’ll continue to demand everything of you until you learn to give it to me both instinctively and willingly. I’ll make you into the great man I know you can be. I’ve given you your freedom, and you owe that to me.”

  “Freedom?” I sounded bitter.

  She grasped my chin and tilted my head up sharply. “You think freedom is easy? A pleasure? Then you are still a fool! The freedom I have—and you too now—is yet another burden. I’ve borne it alone for a very long time, and now I will have my reward. For you, it’s not easy to step out of the familiar bindings of this city’s life, and it will be dangerous too. But I’m building my own life here, and you will accompany me all the way.”

  I looked up into her dark eyes, admiring the confidence and arrogance in them. So different from the tentative dark blue eyes that haunted my dreams, dreams that were so often nightmares of loss and loneliness.

  “Mistress, I’m sorry for my disobedience.” My apology was genuine, for my mood was both depressing and destructive, and she had the right to discipline me. “I know what I owe you. I know you offer me a freedom of sorts.”

  “The only one you have,” she snapped back. “And one I know you’ll make the best of.” She released me and I rose. “I don’t expect to have to say this again to you, Maen. Return to your duty at once.”

  I bowed to her, then raised my head again, our eyes meeting this time on a level. Then I turned and walked steadily back to my own quarters and the military duties of the day ahead.

  This, indeed, was how my life would be from now on. And as Seleste had said—no, demanded—I would make the best of it.

  I owed that to him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  One year later

  THE SWORD came down with a heavy thud on my breastplate, just as I turned. I heard its tempered metal whistle through the air and saw the glint of its thick blade from the corner of my eye. My avoidance was purely instinctive, for there were distractions all around me. The noise of men shouting, loud grunts of pain and anger, the clang of sword upon sword and the hiss of hot blood on the sanded floor of the platform. And rising above all that, the undulating roar of the crowd in the arena, provoking and protesting in rhythm with the ebb and flow of their favorite Guard’s progress up the Battle Horse.

  It was no horse in reality, of course—the arena was filled solely with men and weaponry—but that was its common name. A tall, sturdy structure, built of wood on a metal frame and the size of a medium-sized dwelling. The workers from the House of Construction had taken many weeks to build it. The arena was large enough to take its bulk, although the fighting spilled over onto the floor and the stands if the number of combatants was high in that year. It had four sides built up in steps, each level consisting of a wide platform around its diameter, these platforms reducing in area as they climbed in height, in adult mimicry of a child’s tower of bricks. There was a flat dais at its peak, where the winning Guard would announce its victory.

  The sudden turn threw me a little off balance and I dropped to one knee, wincing. The Silver Captain before me was one I didn’t know personally, but I could see immediately he lacked experience of battle. He barely hid the sudden gleam of triumph in his eyes under the brim of his ceremonial helmet. He was a fool. A soldier at his feet, especially one who had been a Gold Warrior, was no measure of victory. I lowered my shoulders as if in weariness and waited for him to lean over me. He thought he’d place his sword on my Mistress’s badge—the glinting triangle of polished metal at the shoulder clasp of my body armor—and that would signify his win. He was full of pride and excitement at the chance of bringing down a soldier of the Queen-Elect’s own attacking force. Like I said, he was a fool.

  I twisted under his shadow, startling him. His instinctive reaction was to follow my movement, turning sharply to the side away from his sword hand. The move was ill considered and very regrettable. For him, that was. His back bore the full brunt of the hot sun’s heat, even at this late time of day, and he was temporarily blinded by its reflection off my armor. To the far side of me, I heard the angry groan of another soldier taking or giving a final blow, and I gave my own cry in tandem. I straightened up swiftly from my crouching position, concentrating my weight on my attacking side and bringing my sword up from the ground across my torso. It sang softly, catching the sunlight’s low rays despite the dust and stains along its length, slicing in an arc that swung from the lower point of my opponent’s hip and up through the exposed stretch of his sword arm. He cried out with shock and tried to lean back, but he was impeded by another of his Guard, a man falling to the ground, flailing legs tangling with his. The Silver hadn’t been aware of the activity around him; another ill-considered move. My sword tore his clothing and cut easily through the edge of his leather breastplate, although I assumed from the lack of resistance to the end of its victory swing that the wound wasn
’t deep into his flesh. He fell heavily, tumbling back down over the other fallen man, and I needed only a couple of steps forward to land the side of my blade onto his badge and cry for my win.

  There was no time to relax, but for a second he stared up at me, his eyes full of both anger and fear. He glanced toward my bare ear where a Gold Warrior would normally wear the earring of his rank; then his eyes narrowed and his attention darted away again. We were both panting, our bodies still heaving from the heat of the battle, but our minds were clear. Although I’d never seen him before, I knew he recognized me—or recognized my reputation.

  “Leave the arena,” I ordered. “You’re defeated and must withdraw from the battle. Deliver yourself to the cage.” That was the tradition, and all soldiers knew it. Defeated members of the Guard—any Guard—must quit the arena as swiftly as possible and place themselves in the cage of their victor’s camp. They would receive medical treatment there if necessary, but their badges would be stripped from them and their names entered onto the list of the final victor’s spoils.

  Something flickered in his eyes that was far from fear. They were dark gray like the smoke of a night fire, shadowed by the turmoil of the battle around us and full of his exhaustion. Black locks stuck to his cheeks, escaping from under his helmet. He was a handsome young man—though it had no bearing on his military skills. His badge was that of Mistress Flora, the only other one of my Mistress’s sisters who might have claimed the title of Queen-Elect. She and Seleste were the two eldest daughters of the current Queen and both among her favorites. I’d never met Flora formally, though I’d seen her in the Royal Household many times. Rumor told me she was as high-spirited and determined as Seleste. All this went through my mind in a matter of seconds.