Ruler's Concubine

by Peri Elizabeth Scott

  “I appreciate your wisdom, Father.”

  With a heavy sigh, Yu’un slapped his hands on his thighs and heaved to his feet. “As I appreciate you hearing me out. Do with it what you will, but think long and hard, son.”

  As soon as Yu’un left, Lysett went to see Morat. The guard was restrained against the wall in a lower part of the house. The room stank of fear and blood. The male’s face bore evidence of several blows, and his clothing was torn, but he’d suffered no real injury.

  Morat straightened as much as his binds would allow. “Ruler.”

  “You’ve lost the right to be my subject, traitor.”

  Bowing his head, the male spoke. “I accept my fate.”

  “Lady Celeste is fine.”

  Morat’s head snapped up. “She is? Oh, that is good.”

  Desperately wanting to plant his fist in the guard’s face, Lysett kept silent, and Morat filled it. “I’m weak. I, too, wanted a concubine and resented those who were given the opportunity. I lost my honor, Sir.”

  “And you’d deny those who were fortunate.”

  “To my eternal shame.”

  “For wealth.”

  “A poor substitute, but I thought to raise up my family if nothing else.”

  “At the cost of my concubine’s life.”

  “No!”

  “No?”

  “The Lady Celeste … it was difficult to find it within myself to dislike her. She is kind and thoughtful, and I heard the talk of her on the ship. She is a fit mate. Yehudda wanted you dead and her as his concubine. It was his mother’s last wish.”

  “His mother was far from dead.”

  Morat’s brow wrinkled and his head tilted in confusion. “I don’t understand. He was honoring her last wish. I was to kill you. I won’t say I wouldn’t have because he insisted on it in order that I claim my reward. But when your concubine prevented me from entering your quarters—I only had the one sensor override—I chose to take her.”

  Not only had he not protected Celeste, she’d intervened in an assassination attempt on him. Strong emotions gnawed at Lysett’s belly. His face must have reflected his inner turmoil because Morat paled, the bruising on his face standing out in stark relief.

  He forced himself to urge the other man to continue. “Go on.”

  “Yehudda was not pleased to learn you were still alive. Not at all. But he accepted Lady Celeste and dismissed me. He said he would offer for her and ask her to refuse you and break your bond.”

  “He planned to sacrifice her ceremonially. To underscore the unsuitability of taking concubines from another species.”

  Morat shuddered and visibly swallowed. “I didn’t know that at first, Ruler! I swear. Which is why, when I learned of his true plan, I got a message to Bast and opened the gate. I would have done more, but was incapacitated at the outset. I truly believed she would be revered within that House. Quentan was most convincing.”

  “She was revered here.”

  Morat set his lips and looked everywhere but at Lysett.

  “Speak. You’ve been open thus far.”

  The other male shook his head and stared at his feet.

  “Am I to interpret you disagree? That Lady Celeste is not revered in my house?”

  “She is unhappy. She weeps when she thinks no one sees, but I am always there. She caught me watching one time, and I had to pretend I found it distasteful when I wanted to succor her. She suffered. So I had no difficulty taking her to Yehudda.” Morat muttered, but the words seemed to echo in the space.

  Battered senseless by a man bound to a wall, Lysett strove to keep his wits about him and present an impassive demeanor. When he could trust his voice he asked, “Do you believe I am the source of her unhappiness?” Not that he didn’t know the answer.

  Morat’s brusque nod slammed him in the gut, regardless. The guard blurted, “I hear joyful tales of the other concubines and their chosen. Stories of almost immediate conception.”

  Silence prevailed for the space of five heartbeats, marred only by the other man’s breathing, for Lysett had yet to draw a breath. “You will be taken to the furthest province and stripped of your rank and all your worldly goods. You will suffer the loss of your House’s name. You will have no contact with your family—who will not be punished to reflect your perfidy. If you are able to rebuild a life for yourself there, consideration will be given to allowing you to obtain the right to offer for a concubine in the future. But you won’t be executed.”

  “Ruler?” Morat’s mouth hung open and his eyes bulged.

  “You may thank the Lady Celeste in your prayers.” Lysett strode from the cell with as much decorum as he could manage. It was time he did the right thing, because contrary to more current popular belief, he possessed a modicum of intelligence and insight. He needed to step up.

  When he returned to Celeste’s room, the door was closed. He was staring at it in resignation when it slid open and Bast crept out. “Ruler!”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Tired. Shaken up, but fine. She is so resilient. But she regrets damaging the matriarch of that House and I suspect wounding the son preys on her conscience as well. The healer gave her something to help her sleep once she availed herself of nourishment.”

  “I’ve banished Morat and wanted to tell her.”

  “Ah.”

  “Merely, ah, Bast?”

  “She believed you would seek counsel about his fate.”

  “From someone other than herself.”

  “She accepts she isn’t yet an authority on our customs.”

  “Yet she has diligently studied them so as not to embarrass me. And understands the bigger picture despite her unworldliness.”

  Bast dipped his head. “She is resilient and adapts. You have foresight and are willing to take the steps, but perhaps you remain rooted in customs that should be modified. Somewhat.”

  “Seek your bed, Bast. Your years are wearing on you.”

  “And you, Master?”

  “I plan to watch over my concubine.”

  “As it should be.”

  Celeste was asleep again, curled up as if to protect herself. He frowned. She had slept the same way in his bed. There had been nothing to fear then, or so they thought, so… He shook off the introspection. He planned to ensure his concubine had no need to huddle in on herself in the future. The way of it might cut his heart out, but he would do what was ultimately in her best interest.

  Carefully tucking the covers around her, he lifted her against his chest and made his way to his quarters. Her bed was too small for the two of them, though he hoped for little space between them tonight. She murmured and cuddled into him and something choked his throat and made it hard to take a deep breath.

  Vikte padded nearly silently behind him. Deprived of being part of the assault force while searching Morat’s home, he and She-at insisted on taking this shift. She-at lurked on the main floor, in charge of the other guards on post there.

  Toting his sweet burden inside his quarters, he waited for the panel to slide shut before placing her on his bed. Then he set another safeguard on the door, preventing anyone from entering unless they blew down the entire wall.

  He stripped off and climbed in beside her, calling out for the computer to dim the lights but leave enough to see the surroundings. If Celeste awoke, he wanted her to know exactly where she was. Insinuating his body as close to hers as he could, he shared the bed linens and closed his eyes. It might be the last time he held her, so he was going to indulge himself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  This wasn’t her bed. Had she dreamed that horrible kidnapping? Because she was awake now, rubbing her wrist where she’d pinched herself, and she was most definitely back in Lysett’s bed. Dipping her hand beneath the covers, she encountered the fabric of a nightgown and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she told herself it was relief. The back of her was toasty warm, bumped up against a hard—but not uniform—surface. Her hand traveled lower and came
across a muscled arm, one that draped loosely over her waist. Her breathing escalated and tears pricked. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready.

  “Good morning.” The hard body behind her shifted and the arm tightened a little, drawing her closer.

  She was going to cry like a child if she didn’t get herself under control. “Morning.”

  His lips pressed against her hair. She felt the gentle touch as if from a distance as she strove to separate herself. Wiggling in his hold, she gained some space and after a moment, he lifted his arm. She slid to the edge of the bed and set her feet on the floor, the memory of doing much the same thing so recently causing her knees to wobble. She threw a glance at the door.

  “It’s safeguarded. Nothing will override the system. No one in or out but us. I’ll enter your print shortly.”

  Awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she nodded. “Sure. Um, excuse me?”

  At his amused nod, those green eyes crinkling at the corners above his rakish stubble, she hustled to the bathing room, sliding the manual door closed. Quickly using the facilities, she washed her hands and threw water on her face. She didn’t look as though she’d been through a major event in her life. Not of any kind. The minute signs of the blows Quentan had struck would be indiscernible by tomorrow. And yesterday, before her steady gaze, the healer had confirmed what she suspected. She hadn’t conceived. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, confusion addling her brain. But she learned that conception could be determined instantly with the advanced technology available here.

  She had thought she must wait until her body cycled to determine that truth, and it was puzzling that Lysett hadn’t told her differently. And had accepted her edict that they not couple again unless necessary. Her first thought was that he’d found their joining morally distasteful and was content to wait. Except he’d come for her two nights ago…

  She might have laid awake then and given the situation more consideration, but the tonic pressed on her by the healer had sent her deep into sleep. She’d slept well, with no nightmares and didn’t know if it was the medicine or because Lysett had held her all night long.

  Unable to make sense of anything, and second-guessing her willingness to give comfort to Lysett—even sexual comfort, she suspected he now felt responsible and guilty for the kidnapping. Or at least for not keeping her safe. Ellyce had indicated as much and Bast didn’t disagree. And he’d obviously been worried—and kind—waiting for her to wake after her injuries were healed.

  But he hadn’t listened, hadn’t considered her thoughts on Morat, though humored her. She had to remember her place, and it wasn’t anyplace near his level. Maybe he’d put her in his bed because it was the safest place in the house now, though it was like shutting the coop after the fox had run off the chickens. Chickens. Roosters. She shuddered at the visual of Quentan’s twisted face and rinsed out her mouth to take away the bad taste.

  She hated to go back out there and face Lysett, but he wanted to talk. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing further to say unless he needed reassurance that she didn’t blame him for the kidnapping. If he’d been careful with her safety before, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like now, what with the chicken coop response and all. She might go as crazy as Quentan. Or his mother. She quashed the vestiges of regret regarding those two, not wanting to dwell on something else she couldn’t change. What would her mother do? Stroking the necklace, she decided to face him.

  With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped through it. Lysett was still in bed but propped up against the headboard, his broad, muscular chest on display. His bicep flexed as he stretched out his hand and her traitorous eyes were drawn to it. “Come sit with me.”

  “I’m good.” She scooted over to perch on a chair and studied him from across the room.

  “Celeste, with what I have to say, I’d appreciate it if you’d sit closer.”

  Her throat closed off, but she nodded and hesitantly went to him, resolutely keeping her gaze on his instead of taking in all that bare flesh and the way the sheet dipped to mold over his lap. She fought the attraction and willed her arousal away. She couldn’t do this with him today, though doubted there would ever be enough time to prepare.

  “Yesterday opened my eyes to some things,” he began. “Knowing you were at the mercy of a fanatic was indescribable, and the fact you were found safe, or at least not horribly injured—or dead—is something I’ll be grateful for, for the rest of my life.”

  Wow. He took this Ruler position seriously, and she was well aware how the Earth concubine program might turn out if the Rooster had been successful, but he was so subjective. She said as much.

  A pained expression tightened Lysett’s features and narrowed his eyes. “The … program … is secondary. My first concern was for you.”

  She had nothing to say to that, a wide abyss opening up between her brain and ability to find a coherent thought. He picked up her hand from where it picked nervously at her garment and squeezed it. She tried a smile, still unable to project any words.

  “Even so, I denied my feelings once you were home safe, and recovering. I wanted to return to our … arrangement, telling myself I couldn’t tolerate the experience of having harm come to my concubine, again.”

  “You amended our arrangement. Two nights ago.” Her tone was harsh, accusing. Funny how she could speak when he referenced their agreement, but he wasn’t playing by the rules. It wasn’t fair that he could change them and leave her to deal with the fallout. To hell with his tender feelings.

  “I did, and I don’t regret it. I don’t think you regretted it either.”

  She bit her lip to contain the bitter things she longed to say in response to his arrogant—and accurate—statement. She contented herself by saying calmly, “Begetting children shouldn’t be distasteful, so I’m happy not to regret it.”

  Lysett flinched. If she’d been sitting in that chair across the room she would have missed it, and she caught her breath. Maybe there was something to those feelings he didn’t want to experience. He smiled, but it was a mere lift of those perfectly shaped lips, and it dashed her hope.

  “And what if I told you that wasn’t about begetting heirs, Celeste?”

  On a gasp, she retorted, “Then I would say you are playing a cruel game, far beyond my scope.” She didn’t know how she felt, then recognized humiliation and despair. Whore. Her entire body jumped and she yanked her hand free of Lysett’s to cover both ears.

  “What’s wrong?” He lurched forward and she closed her eyes as the sheet slid lower on his hips. “Celeste. Please.”

  Regaining a semblance of composure, she folded her hands on her lap, responding to the magic word. “Nothing. I … I suppose I was thinking about yesterday.”

  “The kidnapping? The way you were treated?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “No more than what you saw. He hit me a few times. Called me names and ranted about me tainting the bloodline. All us concubines. I envisioned far worse.”

  “I regret even one second of it.”

  “I know you do. And I don’t blame you. Not for any of it.” At least they weren’t talking about the sex anymore.

  “I was sharing my reaction to your ordeal and I fear you are far braver than I.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s cowardly to ignore one’s feelings and try to hide from them, especially at the expense of another person.”

  She knew she hid her feelings so as not to cause him grief, but then he wouldn’t know that. But he hid from his? Men were different, even her father, who had been a special man. She didn’t think she wanted to hear any more from Lysett on the subject. “I’m not sure I understand. Maybe you could take counsel from … someone.”

  “Ah, to throw my words in my face, Celeste. I deserved that.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” And she didn’t, though yesterday she might have t
aken some spiteful satisfaction. “I only meant I’m hardly someone you should talk to about ... feelings.”

  “And who else should I share with, but the person I’ve been hurting all along?”

  Her system couldn’t withstand any more shocks. Not one more. He couldn’t know he was hurting her. She had her pride and it had to take her forward. “You don’t need to think that way. I’m fine. Fine. I accepted your terms. We should just … carry on.”

  “Those around us have ascertained your unhappiness. Are you saying you are happy?”

  Lord, he was relentless. Who were these people who thought her unhappy? And why should he care? Unless he was stuck on his lapse in protecting her. So confusing. She was back in his home, unharmed, and presumably still fertile, if not yet pregnant. What more did he want from her, unless he was planning to release her from the agreement?

  Her vision swam and her belly clenched. That was it. She was being sent back to the dorm, away from him. Being replaced. All because she hadn’t effectively faked being happy. She’d settle for half a loaf if it meant spending even a little time with Lysett, no matter that made her pathetic. The thought of him with another woman… She found herself babbling, “I’m happy. Very happy. Why wouldn’t I be happy? My life here is far superior to that on Earth. I have everything someone like me could hope for. Are you sending me back?” Whore.

  She blinked at the auditory hallucination and only just managed not to stick her fingers in her ears. She couldn’t block out the truth.

  Lysett looked terribly serious and concerned. His eyes were soft and he reached for her hands again. “I can’t keep you if I can’t make you happy, Celeste. I have to do the right thing.”

  She heard I can’t keep you. Numbness worked its way down from the back of her nose, past her throat, to seize her chest. She couldn’t make her lungs work.