by Kelly Hunter
‘I can do it.’ Her mother stared coldly at the other woman before turning back to Sera. ‘Go. Come back tomorrow.’
‘Wait,’ said the visitor, and Sera stood, torn, while the visitor came closer and put a gentle hand to Sera’s face and turned it towards the light. ‘She’s yours.’
‘No, I—’
‘Don’t lie. She’s yours.’
Her mother said nothing.
‘You broke the rules,’ the older woman said.
Sera whispered, ‘I’m sorry...’
At the same time her mother said, ‘I fell in love.’
And then her mother laughed harshly and it turned into a sob, and the older woman straightened and turned towards the sound.
‘You didn’t have to leave,’ the older woman said gently. ‘There are ways—’
‘No.’
‘You’re one of us. We would have taken care of you.’
Her mother shook her head. No and no. ‘Ended us both.’
‘Hidden you both,’ said the older woman. ‘Do you really think you’re the first courtesan to ever fall in love and beget a child?’
Sera bent to the task of picking up glass shards from the floor, trying to make herself as small as she could, trying to make them forget she was there so she could hear them talk more, never mind that she didn’t understand what half the words meant.
‘How did you find us?’ her mother asked.
‘Serendipity.’ Another word Sera didn’t know. ‘I was passing through the town and stopped at the bakery for a sourdough loaf,’ the older woman said with a faint smile. ‘Mainly because in all the world there’s none as good as the ones they make there. The baker’s boy remembered me. He’s the baker now, as I expect you know, and he mentioned you. We talked. I mean you no harm. I want to help.’
‘You can’t. I’m beyond help now.’
‘Then let me help your daughter.’
‘How? By training her to serve and love others and never ask for anything in return? I will never choose that life for my daughter.’
‘You liked it well enough once.’
‘I was a fool.’
‘And are you still a fool? What do you think will happen to the child once you poison your body with drink and starve yourself to death? Who will care for her, put a roof over her head and food in her mouth, educate her and give her a sense of self-worth?’
Mama looked close to crying. ‘Not you.’
‘I don’t see many choices left to you.’ The woman glanced around the room. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, you’ve already sold everything of value. Any jewellery left?’
‘No.’ Sera could hardly hear her mother’s answer.
‘Does the house belong to you?’
‘No.’
‘How long have you been ill?’
‘A year. Maybe more. I’m not—it’s not—catching. It’s cancer.’
The older woman bowed her head. ‘And how much longer do you think you can last, selling your favours to the lowest bidder? How long before he looks towards the girl and wants her instead of you? Yuna, please. I can give you a home again. Treatment if there’s treatment to be had. Comfort and clothing befitting your status and hers. Complete discretion when it comes to whose child she is—don’t think I don’t know.’
‘He won’t want her.’
‘You’re right, he won’t. But I do. The Order of the Kite will always look after its own. From the fiercest hawk to the fallen sparrow. How can you not know this?’
A tear slipped beneath her mother’s closed lashes. ‘I thought I’d be better off away from it all. For a while it was good. It can be good again.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ The older woman crossed to her mother and took hold of her hands. ‘Let me help you.’
‘Promise me she won’t be trained as a courtesan,’ her mother begged. ‘Lianthe, please.’
‘I promise to give her the same choice I gave you.’
‘You’ll dazzle her.’
‘You’ll counter that.’ The older woman drew Sera’s mother towards the couch, not letting go of her hands, even after they were both seated. Sera edged closer, scared of letting the hem of the woman’s gown get in the puddle of wine on the floor, and loving the sweet, clean smell that surrounded her. The woman smiled. ‘Leave it, child. Come, let me look at you.’
Sera withstood the other woman’s gaze for as long as she could. Stand tall, chin up, don’t fidget. Her mother’s words ringing in her mind. No need to look like a street urchin.
Fidget, fidget, beneath the woman’s quiet gaze.
‘My name’s Lianthe,’ the woman said finally. ‘And I want you and your mother to come to my home in the mountains so that I can take care of you both until your mother is well again. Would you like that?’
‘Would there be visitors for Mama?’
‘What kind of visitors?’
‘The man.’
Her mother and the lady shared a long glance.
‘He would not visit. I would be taking you too far away for that.’
‘Would there be wine for her?’ Because wine was important. ‘Wine’s like medicine.’
‘Then there will be wine until we find better medicine. Tell me, child, are you hungry?’
So, so hungry but she’d learned long ago that sometimes it was better to say nothing than to give the wrong answer. Her stomach grumbled the answer for her anyway.
‘When did you last eat?’ the lady asked next.
Same question. Trick question. ‘Would you like some tea?’ Sera asked anxiously. There was tea in the cupboard and Mama always offered visitors a drink. Tea was a warm drink. She knew how to make it and what cups to use. There was a tray. ‘I could bring you some tea.’
The lady looked towards her mother as if she’d done something wrong. Something far worse than forgetting to lock the door or not turn off the bedroom lamp at night. ‘Yuna, what are you doing? You’re already training her in the ways of self-sacrifice and denial. It’s too soon for that. You know it is.’
Another tear slipped silently down her mother’s face. Lianthe’s gaze hardened.
‘And now she looks to you for guidance and approval. Yuna, you must see what you’re doing here. This isn’t freedom. This isn’t childhood as it’s meant to be lived. This is abuse and, of all the things we taught you, no member of the Order ever taught you that.’
‘He’s not to know,’ her mother said raggedly. ‘He’s not to take her.’
‘He will never know. This I promise.’
‘She’s not to be sent anywhere near him.’
‘You have my word.’
‘She gets to choose. If she doesn’t want to be a companion, you set her up to succeed elsewhere.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Sera?’ Her mother asked her name as a question but Sera stayed quiet and paid attention because she didn’t yet know what the question was. ‘Should we go to the mountains with the Lady Lianthe? Would you like that?’
Away from here and the baker who was a Good Man and the kids who called her names and the men who looked at her with eyes that burned hot and hungry. Away from the fear that her mother would one day go to sleep on a belly full of wine and never wake up. ‘Would there be food? And someone to take care of us?’
Her mother buried her face in her hands.
‘Yes, there will be food and people who will care for you both,’ the Lady Lianthe said. ‘Sera. Is that your name?’
Sera nodded.
‘Pretty name.’ The woman’s smile wrapped around her like a blanket. ‘Pretty girl.’
CHAPTER ONE
SHE WAS A gift from her people to the King of Arun. An unwanted gift if the King’s expression spoke true, but one he couldn’t refuse. Not without breaking the laws of his country and severing seven centuries of traditio
n between his people and hers. Sera observed him through a veil of lashes and the protection afforded by her hooded travelling cloak. He could not refuse her.
Although he seemed to be considering it.
She was a courtesan, born, bred and shaped for the King’s entertainment. Pledged into service at the age of seven in return for the finest food, shelter and an education second to none. Chosen for the beauty she possessed and the quickness of her mind. Taught to serve, to soothe, and how to dance, fight and dress. One for every King of Arun and only one. A possession to be treasured.
She stood before him, ready to serve. She wasn’t unwilling. She’d already received far more from the bargain than she’d ever given and if it was time to pay up, so be it.
He was a handsome man if a tall, lean frame, firm lips, a stern jaw and wayward dark hair appealed—which it did. He had a reputation for fair and thoughtful leadership.
She definitely wasn’t unwilling.
He looked relaxed as his gaze swept over her party. Two warriors stood to attention either side of her and another watched her back. The Lady Lianthe, elder spokeswoman for the High Reaches, preceded her. A party of five—with her in the centre, protected—they faced the Arunian King, who stood beside a tall leather chair in a room too cold and bleak for general living.
The old courtier who had guided them to the reception room finally spoke. ‘Your Majesty, the Lady Lianthe, elder stateswoman of the High Reaches. And party.’
He knew who they were for they’d applied for this audience days ago. His office had been sent a copy of the accord. Sera wondered whether he’d spent the past two days poring over old diaries and history books in an effort to understand what none of his forefathers had seen fit to teach him.
He had a softness for women, this King, for all that he had taken no wife. He’d held his mother in high regard when she was alive, although she’d been dead now for many years. He held his recently married sister, Queen Consort of Liesendaach, in high esteem still. His name had been linked to several eligible women, although nothing had ever come of it.
‘So it’s time,’ he said, and Sera almost smiled. She’d studied his speeches and knew that voice well. The cultured baritone weight of it and the occasional icy edge that could burn deeper than flame. There was no ice in it yet.
Lianthe rose from her curtsey and inclined her head. ‘Your Majesty, as per the accord afforded our people by the Crown in the year thirteen twelve—’
‘I don’t want her.’
Lianthe’s composure never wavered. They’d practised for this moment and every variation of it. At the King’s interruption, the elder stateswoman merely started again. ‘As per the accord, and in the event the King of Arun remains unmarried into his majority, the people of the High Reaches shall provide unto him a concubine of noble birth—’
‘I cannot accept.’
‘A concubine of noble birth, charged with attending the King’s needs and demands until such time as he acquires a wife and produces an heir. Thereafter, and at the King’s discretion—’
‘She cannot stay here.’ Finally, the ice had entered his voice. Not that it would do him any good. The people of the High Reaches had a duty to fulfil.
‘Thereafter, and at the King’s discretion, she shall be released from service, gifted her weight in gold and returned to her people.’
There it was, the accord read in full, a concubine presented and a duty discharged. Sera watched, from within the shadows her travelling hood afforded her, as Lianthe clasped her bony hands in front of her and tried to look less irritated and more accommodating.
‘The accord stands, Your Majesty,’ Lianthe reminded him quietly. ‘It has never been dissolved.’
The King’s black gaze swept from the older woman to rest broodingly on Sera’s cloaked form. She could feel the weight of his regard and the displeasure in it. ‘Lady Lianthe, with all due respect to the people of the High Reaches, I have no intention of being bound by this arrangement. Concubines have no place here. Not in this day and age.’
‘With all due respect, you know nothing of concubines.’ Fact and reprimand all rolled into one. ‘By all means petition the court, your parliament and the church. Many have tried. All have failed. We can wait. Meanwhile, we all do what we must. Your Majesty, it is my duty and honour to present to you the Lady Sera Boreas, daughter of Yuna, Courtesan of the High Reaches and valued member of the Order of the Kite. Our gift to you.’ Lianthe paused delicately. ‘In your time of need.’
Sera hid her smile and sank to the floor in a curtsey, her head lowered and her cloak pooling around her like a black stain. Lianthe was not amused by their welcome, that much was clear to anyone with ears. This new King knew nothing of the role Sera might occupy if given the chance. What she could do for him. How best he might harness her skills. He didn’t want her.
More fool him.
He didn’t bid her to rise so she stayed down until he did. Cold, this grey stone hall with its too-righteous King. Pettiness did not become him.
‘Up,’ he said finally and Sera risked a glance at Lianthe as she rose. The older woman’s eyes flashed silver and her lips thinned.
‘Your Majesty, you appear to be mistaking the Lady Sera for a pet.’
‘Probably because you insist on giving her away as if she is one,’ he countered drily. ‘I’ve read the housing requirements traditionally afforded the concubines of the north. I do hope you can supply your own eunuchs. I’m afraid I don’t have any to hand.’ His gaze swept over the warriors of the High Reaches and they stared back, eyes hard and unmoving. ‘No eunuchs accompany you at the moment, I’d wager,’ he said quietly.
He wasn’t wrong. ‘I can make do without if you can, Your Majesty.’ Sera let warm amusement coat her voice. ‘However, I do look forward to occupying the living quarters traditionally offered the concubines from the north. I’ve read a lot about the space.’
‘Is there a face to match that honeyed voice?’ he asked, after a pause that spanned a measured breath or four.
She raised her hands and pushed her travelling hood from her face. His eyes narrowed. Reluctant amusement teased at his lips. ‘You might want to lead with that face, next time,’ he said.
Sera had not been chosen for her plainness of form. ‘As long as it pleases you, Your Majesty.’
‘I’m sure it pleases everyone.’ There might just be a sense of humour in there somewhere. ‘Lady Sera, how exactly do you expect to be of use to me?’
‘It depends what you need.’
‘I need you gone.’
‘Ah.’ The man was decidedly single-minded. Sera inclined her head in tacit agreement. ‘In that case you need a wife, Your Majesty. Would you like me to find you one?’
* * *
Augustus, King of Arun, was no stranger to the machinations of women, but he’d never—in all his years—encountered women like these. One cloaked in a rich, regal red, her beauty still a force to be reckoned with, never mind her elder status. The other cloaked in deepest black from the neck down, her every feature perfect and her eyes a clear and bitter grey. Neither woman seemed at all perturbed by his displeasure or by the words spilling from their lips.
He was used to having people around who did his bidding, but he called them employees, not servants, and there were rules and guidelines governing what he expected of them and what they could expect from him.
There were no clear rules for this.
He and his aides had spent the last two days in the palace record rooms, scouring the stacks for anything that mentioned the concubines of the High Reaches and the laws governing them. So far, he’d found plenty of information about their grace, beauty and unrivalled manners. So far, he’d found nothing to help him get rid of them.
A concubine of the High Reaches was a gift to be unwrapped with the care one might afford a poisoned chalice, one of his ancestor Kings had
written. Not exactly reassuring.
‘These living quarters you’ve read about...’ He shook his head and allowed a frown. ‘They’ve been mothballed for over a hundred and twenty years.’ As children, he and his sister had been fascinated by the huge round room with the ribbed glass ceiling. Right up until his mother had caught them in there one day, staging a mock aerial war on a dozen vicious pumpkins. She’d had that place locked down so fast and put a guard detail on the passageway into it and that had been the end of his secret retreat. ‘There’s no modern heating, no electricity, and the water that used to run into the pools there has long since been diverted. The space is not fit for use.’
‘The people of the High Reaches are not without resources,’ said the elder stateswoman regally. ‘It would be our honour to restore the living area to its former glory.’
They had an answer for everything. ‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ he warned and looked towards his executive secretary. ‘Let all bear witness that the terms of the accord have been satisfied. Let it also be recorded that my intention is to see the Lady Sera honourably discharged from her duty as quickly as possible. I’ll find my own wife in my own good time and have no need of a concubine.’ He was only thirty. Wasn’t as if he was that remiss when it came to begetting an heir and securing the throne. His sister could rule if it ever came to that. Her children could rule, although her husband, Theo, would doubtless object. Neighbouring Liesendaach needed an heir too, perhaps even more so than Arun did. He nodded towards his secretary. ‘Show them the hospitality they’ve requested.’
If the abandoned round room didn’t make them flinch, nothing would.
The guards bowed and the women curtseyed, all of it effortlessly choreographed as they turned and swept from the room, leaving only silence behind. Silence and the lingering scent of violets.
* * *
Sera waited just outside the door for Lianthe to fall into step with her. Two guards and their guide up ahead and another guard behind them, a familiar routine in an unfamiliar place.
‘That could have gone better,’ Sera murmured.