*
“You asked for more details,” Nicholas said as they settled in the council chamber. “Reading between the lines, the Empress wasn’t happy to be asked, but she’s deigned to send half an explanation.”
“Oh?”
“She’s claims to have concerns about her son’s inability to produce an heir. You’re to administer a fertility potion to the relevant part of his anatomy.”
Eleanor frowned. “I’d have thought that was something he’d be more than happy to do for himself.”
“The implication is that he’s too proud to talk about such things. You can choose to believe it or not, but I’m afraid that’s the best you’re going to get. There are some instructions here too, and some rules. You’re forbidden to take any weapons into the palace, the message is very clear on that front–”
“What?” Eleanor snatched the paper away from him. “How can they ask me to go anywhere unarmed?”
“That’s what it says.”
She read and reread the message; there was certainly no space for interpretation in those words. If she took weapons, she would be summarily executed for treachery.
“That makes it rather a different game,” she said. “I don’t even sleep without a knife or two.”
“You do not have to do this,” Daniel said. “Indeed, I believe you should not.”
“And I believe you should keep your nose out of it,” she said. “I’ll still do it, it’s fine. I’ll just have to be a bit more careful.”
The instructions were accompanied by a name bangle by which Eleanor could identify herself as Nina, a young woman registered at the Third City School in Almont, and a copy of Nina’s letter of assignment to the Imperial harem. As she clipped the bangle around her wrist Eleanor wondered if she was usurping a real girl, or whether this was a pure fabrication by some forger at the palace. She knew how the Association would arrange things, but evidently the Empress had her own ways of getting things done. There was nothing in the story she’d been given that could explain why a girl would be arriving to her assignment at such a strange time of the year, but although the discrepancy troubled her, Eleanor didn’t think there was anything she could do about it.
The Association’s tailor had made her a set of clothing in the style of the Almont City 3 uniform. She’d turned her hair blonde with whitening powder, and as she braided two neat plaits, she saw an unfamiliar schoolgirl looking back at her from the mirror.
She walked across the city and introduced herself at the palace gatehouse, presenting the assignment letter as per her instructions. The guard barely glanced at her or her letter, but directed her through a maze of corridors to the apartment complex of the harem.
She was met at the door by a middle-aged manservant who snatched her assignment letter from her hands before grunting his approval.
“I’m his lordship’s personal valet,” he said, directing her into an empty bedroom. “Any communication from his lordship to you will always come through me. I trust you’ll be ready to attend to him this evening.”
Eleanor felt nowhere near ready, but there was clearly only one acceptable answer. “Of course,” she said.
“Of course, sir. You will always address senior staff as sir or madam.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Clearly we need to educate you. His lordship has chosen to see you today only because you’re new. In future you will be summoned at his pleasure, and you will always be available when he demands it. You will do as he directs you, and call him ‘my lord’ unless instructed otherwise. Make no presumptions. This will be your room, you’ll be brought back here once he’s finished with you today. You’ll be notified of times when you may visit the city, with a chaperone, of course. You’ll have chance to meet the other girls tomorrow. Understand?”
She nodded, although the barrage of rules had little relevance to her temporary position. It gave an interesting glimpse into this strange lifestyle.
“Follow me, then. His lordship will be ready for you shortly, and you’re by no means ready for him.”
He led her to a large, slate-floored bathroom where a steaming bath was already prepared in the centre of the room, and left her alone there. At least, she thought she was alone, but as soon as she began to undress two young female attendants emerged from a side-chamber. One of them whisked away her discarded clothes while the other helped her into the bath and began, firmly but not unkindly, to plunge her head under the water. They scrubbed her skin, doused her in scented oils, and shaved her in places she’d never thought shaving was possible, before pulling her from the bath and towelling her down. They presented her with a choice of sheer nightgowns, any of which would preserve very little of her modesty, and she opted for a mid-length green slip sewn from lightweight satin. The gown skimmed her hips and fell to just above her knees. She wished she could have worn one of her own dresses, but this skimpy style was clearly what the prince demanded of his women.
Once they’d dressed her, curled her hair, and stained her lips, the attendants directed her to the prince’s anteroom where she was to wait until he was ready for her. She perched self-consciously on one of the stuffed chairs and marvelled at the tapestries which covered the walls, embroidered with sparkling gold threads. As she waited for the summons, she tried to imagine the kind of person who would actually get this assignment. There was surely a physical element, but what other characteristics did the Assessors look for? What sort of girl would be delighted to open her letter and find she’d been chosen to be an Imperial concubine?
Someone more placid than herself, Eleanor suspected, trying to think herself into the role. It would certainly have to be someone who didn’t mind being told what to do, she could see that much from the way she’d been treated so far. Physically, she guessed any candidate would have to be fit and flexible; maybe someone who would’ve liked to be an entertainer, but never quite made the grade as a dancer or actor. How they tested for the one essential skill, though, she couldn’t begin to fathom: sex certainly hadn’t been part of her education at Mersioc.
And what about the prince’s wife – was that another job to be filled by assignment, or did he get the same choice in that respect as the rest of the Empire’s population? Eleanor wondered how she must feel about the existence of the Imperial harem.
When she was finally called from the anteroom through to the prince’s bedchamber, however, any rational thought was dispelled by a flurry of nerves and, she noted with shock, a thrill of excitement that went beyond the rush she normally felt during a dangerous mission.
The prince waited by the window. He was not a tall man but held himself with regal stature, his back straight and his shoulders thrust back. His hair was greying at the temples and a rich diet had given him a rounded silhouette, though she could see from his bare forearms that he kept his muscles well-toned.
“My valet says you’re the new assignee,” he said by way of an introduction. She nodded, trying to imagine herself seventeen again. “That’s all I know about you. Did they tell you much about me?”
“No,” she said truthfully, then because she was unsure of the protocols, added a hasty “My lord.”
He stepped close to her and rested one arm gently across her shoulders. “Well, you won’t have to work too hard,” he said, reaching across to brush a few stray curls from her cheek, tucking the hairs behind her ear. “I’m very much in love with my wife. I’ll have need of you only occasionally.”
“As my lord wishes,” she said, impressed by his straight talking. Somehow she hadn’t imagined he’d treat his toys with such respect. Unlike the valet with his barked orders, this prince addressed her almost as an equal.
Almost.
“Of course they’ll have shown you where you’ll be living, and I’m sure someone’s outlined the rules. A bit excessive, if you ask me, but the Imperial Household has its odd ways – you’ll get used to it.” He traced the curve of her breasts through the thin fabric and brought his hands down to rest just
above her hips, broad fingers gripping her waist. “Is there anything you don’t understand?”
She could feel her heart pounding, and wondered how everything had already strayed so far from the picture of the evening she’d created in her mind. She was supposed to be seducing him, but despite her best efforts to stay professional she was struggling not to respond to his touch. And she still had to contrive a way to retrieve the potion from the spot behind the headboard where she’d been told she could find it.
“No need to be nervous,” he said, misinterpreting her silence. “What’s your name?”
“Nina.”
“Well, Nina, you can call me Leon. Just don’t tell the servants – they can get rather hung up on protocol.”
“Am I not a servant?” she asked.
“Not quite.”
He slipped the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, dropped the fabric to the floor and pulled her now-naked body into a tight embrace. The rosewater scent of his skin filled her nostrils, his fingers were soft against her back, and she could feel his erection pressing through the rough fabric of his trousers. She allowed her body to relax against his; if she was going to do this job, she might as well enjoy it.
Slowly, with a hesitation she felt befitted a young girl facing the heir to the throne only days after leaving school, she began to unfasten his shirt. He stood and watched without moving as she worked her way down from his collar to his waist, finally dropping to her knees to loosen his belt and pull down his trousers.
He slid his hands through her hair and manoeuvred her head gently but firmly until she had no choice but to open her mouth, and suddenly her pretence of virginal innocence no longer felt like such a pretence. This was like nothing she’d done with Daniel, and the pressure against the back of her throat made her gag a little as he pulled her towards him.
“Relax,” he instructed, and she forced her muscles to obey. “Use your tongue.”
After a few long moments he stepped back and offered a hand to help her to her feet, and led her to the bed before climbing on top of her. His body was heavy and warm, and the hairs on his chest tickled her nipples as he held himself above her, studying her face as his right hand wandered across her skin. He rolled her body between his legs until she was lying on her front, her face pressed into the sheets as he sat astride her buttocks. With one palm resting on the small of her back he ran the other hand along the curve of her spine and up her neck, and leaned in to whisper in her ear: “If you tell me who sent you, I might let you live.”
She froze, then let out a slow, deliberate breath and relaxed her muscles, hoping the involuntary stiffening had given nothing away. She could feel the point of a dagger pressing from between his fingers and wondered how she’d allowed herself into this position, furious at herself for letting her guard down.
“What do you mean?” she asked. How had he seen through her so easily? Unless... Her pulse quickened as she ran the options through her mind. Could this whole setup be a trap? Had she been sent here, unarmed, simply so he would kill her? With this new thought pressing on her mind, she wondered whether feigning ignorance would be even more dangerous than just admitting who she was.
“The role you’re trying to mimic attracts a certain kind of girl,” he said. “You just don’t fit.”
“Oh?” She had to keep him talking; she needed more time to think.
“You’re nowhere near flirty enough, and though you’ve an alright figure you’re a bit too skinny, and these muscles...” He squeezed her thigh as if to emphasize his point. “You’ve been trained for something quite different. So if you want to live, you’d better explain why you’re here.”
“I’m not supposed to hurt you,” she said, thankful that a truthful answer was relatively harmless. “Your mother sent me to administer a fertility drug, that’s all.”
“That makes no sense.”
“There should be a jar behind your headboard. Go and look.”
“Do you really think I can tell a fertility drug from a contact poison? No, I think I’m going to keep you under my knife for now. But whether or not you believed it, my mother has no interest in increasing my fertility.”
“Then maybe you’re supposed to notice I’m an imposter,” she said. “Maybe you’re meant to kill me.”
He laughed – a loud, hearty laugh completely out of place in the circumstances. “Why would anyone go to this much effort to do away with someone as insignificant as you?” he asked once he’d recovered himself.
“I have no idea. But why else would I be here, naked and unarmed, with a knife to my back?”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe this is for your benefit. That’s self-centred thinking, and you’re not that important.”
He was right, she realised, though it pained her to admit it. But his amusement gave her the opportunity she needed and she twisted suddenly, relying on the element of surprise to wrench the knife from his hand before he could use it, and a moment later she held his own blade to his throat, looking up into his face though she was still pinned down by his weight.
“There’s an alternative theory,” she said, allowing herself a slight smile. “That you’re supposed to try to kill me, and in the resulting chaos I’m supposed to kill you. But why would your mother want you dead?”
“Oh, she hates me,” he said, his tone strangely casual. “But if that’s her plan, you need to think very carefully about whether you want to play into her hands. Do you really want to be the scapegoat for my death?”
She studied his face. Clearly he spoke from a position of desperation, but on the other hand if the Empress truly wanted him dead she must have had some reason not to order it directly. In that context, making a scapegoat of the ‘accidental’ assassin was a plausible scenario. She wondered whether, if she killed him, she’d even manage to leave the palace before the guards arrived.
“It seems we’ve both been tricked,” she said carefully. “I doubt you like that any more than I do. And since neither of us is going anywhere, we’d better talk this through. Why would the Empress want you dead?”
“I’m not going to talk politics with you.”
“I don’t care about politics. I care about how I get out of this room, and right now my best chance seems to be to make myself more valuable alive than dead.”
“Why should I trust you when you work for my mother?”
“I work for whoever pays me. If you want me to get her out of your way, you only have to find enough dollars to back up your request.”
He shook his head. “That’s her kind of game, not mine. She’s the one who’s killing off heirs she doesn’t like the look of.”
Eleanor thought of Sofia bleeding into her pillow, but she said nothing. Better to let him talk until he said something she could use.
“Mother wants an heir who’ll keep pushing the boundaries of the Empire, and she knows I’m not that enthused by conquest. She’s already had three of my children murdered – well, the midwives have always claimed they were stillborn, but it’s obvious what she’s doing. If I don’t have an heir by the time mother dies, my little sister can claim the line of succession.”
“Is your wife pregnant right now?”
He glared down at her, suspicious. “How did you know that? We’ve told no-one.”
“The Empress seems to have guessed. Okay, I think I have a way out of this mess. What if I can keep your child safe?”
“How?”
“Send your wife away, tonight if you can. She should dress in plain clothes, leave the royal carts behind and travel like a commoner. Tell no-one she’s leaving until she’s well on her way, then say she’s gone to the country for her health. She’ll come back a few months from now and report another tragic miscarriage.”
“You’ll go with her?”
“I’ll follow her. With your wife away, you’ll need other women more often – no-one will be surprised at that. Send for me on the next full moon,” – she picked the easiest day she coul
d think of for them both to remember – “and you can tell me where to find her. I’ll make sure the child stays safe.”
“How can you promise that?”
“Sneaking around is my job, remember? I can hide your wife until the child is born, and I can hide your child in a suitable school. Now, do we have a deal?”
He nodded and shifted his weight to release her. She passed his knife back to him and was about to roll off the bed when he thrust his fingers suddenly between her legs. The unexpected roughness of the intrusion made her yelp with surprise.
“Can’t send you back a virgin,” he said as he withdrew his hand. “That would give us both away.”
It was too late to be worth telling him she hadn’t been so she just picked up the green slip and dressed herself, conscious again of just how little the sheer fabric really covered her. She took the pot of cream from behind the bedstead; without pockets, she had no choice but to keep it clenched in her fist and hope no-one would notice as she returned to her room to change. They hadn’t given back her fake school uniform, but there were various everyday clothes in the closet which fitted her adequately.
It was almost dawn by the time she got back to the Association, and she went straight to Daniel’s room, but although he woke when she got into his bed he didn’t reach out for her.
“Are you still angry at me?” she asked. “I was only doing my job.”
“You have the right to turn any mission down,” he said. “I cannot understand why you did not do so.”
“No-one else could have gone,” she said. “It needed a woman, and until we fix our recruitment that means me.”
“It did not need doing. We are not here to play power games for the Empress.”
She put her arms around his shoulders. “Well, it’s over now. I’m back. You can forgive me or not, but I’m not going to stay here if you’re just going to sulk.”
“I am not sulking,” he said, turning to face her. “But this is hard for me. You have been – away. You smell of whatever they have done to you.”
“What they did to me?”
“You even look different. Curls in your hair, and your body... you have let them mould you to their own design.”
“I let them make me into a member of the Imperial harem, yes. Of course I did. What, did you think I could go in there and then object that they treat me like they treat every other girl who comes in by that route? I wouldn’t have even made it to the same room as Leon.”
“Fine.”
“I know you’re not fine.” She stroked his cheek. “I know. But how long is it going to take you to get over it? Should I go back to my room?”
“Do not leave,” he said. “I cannot get used to your changes if you are out of my sight.”
“Okay.” She hugged him closer. “Good night, sleep well.”
Revolution (Chronicles of Charanthe #2) Page 23