Wicked Harvest

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  Lifting her chin, Enovese adjusted her robe as if the most regal color enshrouded her. A new light glowed from her face as she removed her bound hair from hiding and spread it proudly over her shoulders. The last time she had left this room her dreams had been in ruins and tears blinded her vision. Now, she would exit this room with more pride than the empress. Chur smiled at the vision she made. Their lives would never be the same, but neither would anyone else’s.

  At the doors, she turned, leaned close, and said, “We will change the world.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  33

  Outside the Harvest room, Chur argued with Ambo Votny while Enovese hid behind his bulk. Never had she shown her face to any but Chur. Exposed, she felt almost naked while standing in the hallway with palace guards, servants, and members of the elite milling about. For all her bold posturing, this unveiling terrified her. All those eyes glaring, seeking out weakness to exploit…She resisted the urge to cover her face with the hood only by drawing on Chur’s conviction that she was a goddess.

  Swaying a bit, his normally florid face pale, Ambo sputtered, “You cannot pick her!” He pointed at Enovese without looking directly at her, as if even glancing at her would turn him to stone. His thrusting finger trembled and he quickly withdrew it. Almost of its own accord, his finger found its way to his nose. After a deft picking, Ambo wiped the contents on his trousers.

  Enovese wasn’t the only one who cringed. Hearing Chur speak of this compulsion wasn’t the same as actually witnessing it.

  “According to the prophecy, I can select any sacrifice presented to me.” In sharp contrast, Chur was perfectly calm, his voice a low rumble of far-off thunder. His beautiful bronze skin glowed despite the dim lighting crystals.

  “She is a paratanist.” Ambo twisted the word around his ugly mouth until she sounded like the vilest expletive.

  Enovese had to bite her lips to remain silent, then chastised herself for holding to rules that no longer applied to her.

  Summoning her strength, she stepped out of Chur’s shadow and said, “My station has no bearing on his selection.”

  “Silence,” Ambo snarled. “None has asked you a question.”

  An unnatural hush fell over the people clustered about the Harvest room doors. His dismissal of her caused Chur to grip the hilt of his ceremonial sword.

  Placing her hand on Chur’s arm to stop him from chopping Ambo’s head off, Enovese moved close to Ambo, so close he had no choice but to see her. Ambo’s watery eyes darted across her face, then held to a spot just over her shoulder. He couldn’t miss her resemblance to Arianda Rostvaika, not when the woman herself stood just beyond their frozen tableau. His labored breath, ripe with wine and decayed meat, conveyed his terror. Despite his rude behavior, Enovese felt sorry for him. Ambo had never expected such a drastic and irrevocable change during his reign as magistrate.

  Lifting her chin, Enovese calmly offered, “Having undergone the Harvest ritual, I am now a fully recognized citizen and I will not be spoken to in that manner.”

  Ambo stepped back, as if she reeked of corruption, and bellowed, “A paratanist speaks when spoken to! You are nothing, nothing! Do not dare to—”

  Silver sharp, Chur’s blade tip caressed Ambo’s quivering chins. “Choose your words carefully, Ambo. I will not tolerate you addressing my bondmate as a servant.”

  Ambo sputtered but wisely held his tongue. He glared at the palace guards, as if willing them to action. Enraptured by events, they didn’t move from the Harvest room doors.

  Chur lowered his sword. “You will perform the bondmate ceremony.”

  “I won’t.”

  They stood at impasse until Clathia stormed down the hall toward them. Everyone parted, allowing the empress access to the small group by the door. Enovese had never seen the empress up close. Her tawny skin glowed and her eyes sparkled with a thousand torments. Clathia examined her critically, then realized quite suddenly that Enovese was not only a paratanist, but that she looked familiar.

  Clathia shot a glance to Arianda.

  Arianda arched her brows and lifted her truculent nose, as if daring the empress to make a scene.

  Clathia straightened her shoulders, then turned her penetrating gaze onto Chur. Surprise widened her eyes. She took a moment to take in his transformation, then her gaze narrowed as her face hardened. He had not done as she demanded, but she couldn’t very well upbraid him in front of so many witnesses. Clearly, Clathia realized something beyond the ordinary had occurred. Resignation and a weary futility dulled her flashing gaze.

  “I see you have chosen, Harvester. May she bring you nothing but happiness.”

  To Enovese it sounded like a threat, but Chur exhibited his diplomatic skills.

  “Thank you, my lady.” Chur bowed. “However, the magistrate refuses to perform the ceremony.”

  “Such would be an abomination!” Ambo snapped at Chur. He gripped his distended belly protectively.

  “Once the Harvester has made his selection, there is no undoing it.” Clathia spun on her heel. As she strode away, she said over her shoulder, “Perform the ceremony, Ambo, or I will have you executed.”

  There was no time for Enovese to retrieve her dress so she bonded to Chur wearing her ceremonial robe. She didn’t care. Ambo probably wouldn’t have let her wear green anyway since her true family color was black. The details mattered little. Even Ambo’s snarling disgust couldn’t dampen her joy. Since she had no preference for the type of ceremony, Chur selected a traditional Ampirian ritual. They faced each other during Ambo’s short speech with hands clasped. When he finished, they embraced. Short, sweet, and they were officially bonded.

  Ambo’s discomfort amused Arianda. Once he left, she graciously invited them to her suite of rooms for an impromptu celebration.

  Enovese felt a little tongue-tied, for what does one say to a mother one has never met? A warmth and generosity of spirit flowed from Arianda. No awkward silences descended upon their trio, but they passed plenty of wistful looks and perplexed smiles. Arianda accepted Enovese without any explanation other than she was her daughter. Their startling resemblance left the matter unspoken but no less true.

  Arianda’s suite was similar to Chur’s rooms and decorated in the same uncomplicated but luxuriant style indicative of a Harvester. Frilly plants filled her rooms, and a myriad of soft touches feminized the severe furniture. Rather than a bathing unit on the north wall, Arianda had a small waterfall that tumbled into a pond. As Enovese stepped close, a dozen black fish with red spots bobbed to the surface with their mouths agape.

  “Would you like to feed them?” Arianda handed her a glass jar filled with green-brown pellets. “Just sprinkle some across the surface.”

  As soon as the fish saw the jar, they shimmied against each other, jockeying for position. When Enovese lowered her hand to sprinkle the pellets, a few jumped out of the water.

  “Greedy creatures,” Arianda said with a laugh. “But harmless.” She turned to her kitchen area to prepare refreshments.

  Chur leaned close and whispered, “I like your mother very much, but I must go.”

  “Go where?”

  A pleased smile lifted the edges of his mouth. “There is a commotion in the training rooms about who the next Harvester will be.”

  On the tip of her tongue was a question about how he could know such a thing or why it seemed to please him. She didn’t ask. The transformation had given him extraordinary insight and somehow he’d become aware of a situation there. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then waited for her mother.

  Arianda placed a tray with food and drinks on the low table between the two couches. She looked about then lifted her brow to Enovese.

  “A problem he must attend to.”

  Arianda nodded and sat with fluid grace. After a moment of silence, she said, “Ask.” When Enovese hesitated, she said, “I can tell you have a thousand questions on your mind. Just like me, a little line appears over the bridge o
f your nose when you are pondering something.”

  “Why did you withdraw from the Harvester competition right before your sixth year?”

  Folding her hands into her lap, Arianda idly rubbed the pad of her right thumb across the nail of her left thumb. “I fell in love. He was the most stunning man I had ever seen. He was kind, sweet, gentle—everything any woman could ask for.”

  Judging by her discomfort, the relationship had ended badly. Enovese did not wish to cause her mother any pain. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, I don’t mind, it will likely explain your other questions as well.” She sighed and glanced over at the fish. “For many seasons we tried to have children and couldn’t. Since he had children with other women, we knew the problem did not lie with him. I began to wonder if something in the Harvest ritual had damaged me.”

  “The cylinder to remove your eggs,” Enovese guessed.

  Arianda winced and nodded. “I didn’t know at the time, of course, or I would have stopped much sooner. Most female Harvesters perform only two seasons, so the fertility drugs and the procedure cause no lasting damage. I performed five ritual harvests; that left me infertile.”

  A tender camaraderie infused Enovese, for she knew exactly how it felt to discover such a truth.

  “When I realized the exact purpose, that they took my children from me to create paratanists, I confronted Clathia.” Fury straightened her shoulders. “I thought she would be as horrified as I to discover the truth, but she laughed because she had always known. To comfort me, she said that children were more curse than blessing.”

  Enovese did not know what to say.

  “I became obsessed with destroying the ritual and finding my children, which only served to push my love away.” A tear fell down her cheek. She didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Once he left, my zeal escalated, and Clathia’s daughter Kasmiri grew close for her time at Harvest. Since Clathia had taken my children from me, I vowed to take her child from her.”

  Enovese blurted, “That’s why you—” then suddenly didn’t know how to finish.

  “You see, I told you it would answer your other questions. What we did was for appearances; our relationship never went beyond that. Kasmiri had her own motivations, but in the end our scheme worked too well. Clathia was enraged. She still refused to give me access to the tanist house but then embarked on a campaign to have me killed.”

  Realizing her mother had known about Clathia’s plans, she offered, “Chur never would have harmed you.”

  Arianda nodded agreement, then proudly lifted her chin. “You have chosen well. He is a strong man to stand up to the empress.” She sighed. “Clathia’s panic over Kasmiri forced her to command Chur to select her during the Harvest, which I think is what Kasmiri wanted. Never have I met a more manipulative child.”

  After what Chur had told her of Kasmiri, Enovese had no desire to defend that statement. “Clathia told Chur to pick Kasmiri or she would destroy his chosen.”

  “And again, he defied her.” A smile of triumph radiated from her mother’s face. “I cannot express how much it pleases me to know both their schemes have failed and mine has succeeded.”

  “But you didn’t take her daughter from her.”

  “No, but that’s not what I truly wanted. Now, at long last, I have found one of my children.” Arianda reached for her hand, clasping it firmly between her own. “Finding you has rendered everything I suffered bearable.”

  Enovese tried to keep the quiver from her voice but failed miserably. “For a long time I believed you had given me away.”

  Arianda moved to her side. “I never would have given you away.”

  When she wrapped her arms around her, tears flowed unfettered down Enovese’s cheeks. She had waited her entire life to feel her mother’s embrace. Unconditional love wrapped her in a haze of joy that completed her soul. A thousand questions about what would happen next for her and Chur fell silent. They would change the world. Not overnight, not in a season, but now Enovese firmly believed she had the strength to see those transformations through.

  EPILOGUE

  Chur proudly flung open the door and ushered Enovese inside their new rooms. He’d had a chance to inspect them while she talked with her mother and couldn’t wait to see her reaction. This suite was twice the size of the Harvester rooms and far more lushly appointed with lavish furniture, statues, and a multitude of plants. Fading light from Tandalsul filled the space with a soft orange glow. Even the cavernous kitchen had enormous windows that faced the Onic Mountains.

  Enovese turned slowly, taking in the space and the spectacular view. “These are our rooms?” She trailed her fingertips over the back of the huge animal-hide couch.

  “Clathia was exceedingly generous.” Chur knew she acted from fear, not munificence. No fool, Clathia knew she could not stop the coming changes. She was attempting to inveigle herself into his good graces by showering him with a multitude of gifts, including a fine living space.

  “What did she ask in return?” Enovese moved to his side and began the laborious process of removing his gear.

  He stayed her hand. “You don’t have to act as my servant anymore.”

  A smile lifted her lips. “I’m acting as your bondmate. But too, I have personal motivations in stripping you of your gear and your clothing.”

  “Ah, would this impulse involve the lewd arts?”

  “Perhaps.”

  It was a race to see who could get the other naked first. Chur won because Enovese wore only her ceremonial robe. Once he freed her from it, he tossed it aside.

  “You will never wear that again.”

  She dropped to her knees and removed his boots. Glancing up at him, she lifted her brows and asked, “You intend to keep me naked?”

  Pulling her into his arms, he nuzzled her neck. “I intend to clothe you in the finest fabrics, the most spectacular gems, and then strip you bare.”

  Her laughter tickled his shaved head. “And what will you wear?”

  “Whatever I want. Who would dare to dictate fashion to a demigod?”

  “Don’t get too enchanted with yourself.” She laughed. “No one likes an arrogant man, demigod or not.”

  “Well, I always have you to keep me humble.”

  “Hmm. Humble? Somehow I can’t picture you as such.” Enovese pulled back and glanced at the gear strewn about the floor. “Where is your ceremonial sword?”

  “Safely with the next Harvester.”

  She stiffened and drew away. “I thought we were going to put an end to the ritual?”

  Sighing, he pulled her back into his arms. “We are, but we can’t change everything overnight. The ritual stands, but there will be no harvesting of the Harvesters. That I have already stopped.” He nuzzled his lips to her hair. “There are a thousand details we must attend to, but not tonight. This night we will wallow in decadence, for tomorrow we will attend the celebration ceremony for Kasmiri’s bonding.”

  “The new Harvester selected her?” Incredulous, Enovese shook her head. “Does he even know who she is?”

  “Oh, he does, but I don’t think he realizes exactly what he’s in for in choosing her.” Chur had some idea of the road ahead for his friend. If he stood by Kasmiri, he would find his destiny, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

  Tracing her finger around his nipple, Enovese asked, “Why are we going to a party for that spoiled child?”

  “Diplomatic reasons. And too, in the coming season, we will need their help.” Chur could see into the future, but dark shadows obscured pertinent details. Before Enovese could start with her endless speculations, he captured her mouth and lifted her into his arms. “Wait ’til I show you the bed.”

  Her eyes went wide when he pushed open the door. “Are you sure that bed is only for us? It looks big enough to hold twelve people!”

  “I assure you, this bed is only for two.” He deposited her on the sinking soft covers, then climbed between her thighs. “Now, how does that go? Ah, yes,
by might of the blade I claim that which belongs to me. I claim you as my bondmate.”

  Lifting her hands over her head, Enovese said, “I freely give myself to you as my bondmate.”

  He sunk into her heat with a sigh of contentment. When their eyes met, he pushed a vision to her mind. Her standing next to him, their entwined hands cupped lovingly to her swelling belly.

  “You see this in our future?” Hope animated her face and she blinked back tears of joy. “How could this happen when they sterilized me?”

  “Because the gods are kind. When they asked of me to perform their work, I agreed, but only if they granted this in exchange.”

  Her lips trembled. “You could have asked for anything, something for yourself, but you chose to give this gift to me?”

  “Because I love you.” He kissed her tears away. “And, of course, I’m not entirely altruistic since this gift benefits me as well.” At long last he would know the joy of holding his child in his arms and watching his child nurse at the breast of his bondmate.

  Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pulled him as firmly into her body as she could. “My mother said I had chosen well.”

  “A very astute woman, much like her daughter.” Chur moved gently atop her, careful to keep his weight from her and his eyes wide open. “Now, let’s see what we can do about fulfilling that vision.”

  APHRODISIA BOOKS are published by

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  Copyright © 2009 by Anitra Lynn McLeod

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  ISBN: 0-7582-4358-8