by Sarah Hawke
I ate alone in the commissary as usual before I returned to my chambers to dress and don my armor. To my surprise, Charisse was standing outside waiting for me. Her face instantly lit up.
“There you are,” she said, rushing forward and squeezing my shoulders. “I had no idea you got back last night. Why in the void didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t have time,” I replied. “I was…occupied.”
She cocked a blonde eyebrow but didn’t say anything until we’d slipped into the room and shut the door behind us. “He came to you last night?”
I nodded and grinned sheepishly. “He came inside me last night, more than once.”
“I bet he did,” Charisse said with a snort as she glanced around the room. It was a mess—half the toys were still on the floor, including my whip and collar. Her eyes fixated upon the dried pool of blood. “Looks like you might have had a little too much fun.”
“If you’ve taught me anything, it’s that there’s no such thing as too much fun.”
She smirked. “So you did learn something. That’s good to know.”
I chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips were soft and her tongue was even softer. If we’d had more time, I had no doubt that Charisse would have already pushed me onto the bed and crawled between my legs to welcome me home.
The two of us were almost the same age, having been recruited as potential Brides barely a week apart. We’d become friends almost immediately, and I never would have survived the academy without her. We had learned everything together, from magic to swordplay to sex. Dragon Brides weren’t allowed to lay with any male besides our husband and his son, but carnal relationships with our sister-wives were common and encouraged. Charisse and I had been lovers since puberty.
“Well, at least now I know why everyone around here was so pissed off this morning,” Charisse said after she finally pulled away. “What about your mission? I take it you didn’t find Drell or the Vin Aetheri?”
“Not exactly,” I murmured. Other than the Council of Wives, Charisse was the only one knew the details of my mission into the Deadlands. She wasn’t supposed to know, of course, but I always told her everything. In a palace filled with my “sisters,” Charisse was the only one who truly felt like family.
“Meaning what?” Charisse asked.
“Meaning I can tell you about it later when we have more time,” I said.
“You damn well better. If I’d known you were coming back, I would have already told Jirrah to reserve us some whores and a nice room at the Velvet Shadow. She just hired a new retharri with red hair…I’m telling you, that girl’s tongue will set you on fire.”
I grunted. “Maybe we should try someplace a little quieter.”
“I just spent a week on patrol duty in Vantriss with three of the most insufferable cunts in the palace. Someone is going to fuck me tonight, and not all of us are lucky enough to get visits from the king.”
I chuckled despite myself. “All right, fine. I can meet you there later. But I have no idea what Lysandre has planned for me today.”
“I’ve been assigned back to the docks, so I’ll probably finish early and get started without you,” Charisse said. “If you’re late, don’t get upset when they run out of wine.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
“We’ll see.” Grinning again, Charisse leaned in for another kiss. If she weren’t already dressed, I would have been seriously tempted to pluck a phallus from the shelf and take her over the armoire. Sadly, we were just going to have to be patient.
Ten minutes later, I reported for duty at Lysandre’s office. The daily roster was posted outside, and about a dozen of my sisters and several of the other Wives were mulling around the Council war room. I didn’t bother checking the list to see if I’d be assigned somewhere; I turned straight into Lysandre’s office.
And promptly froze in my tracks when I saw Crown Prince Jorel standing inside next to her.
“My father’s chosen Bride,” he said, crossing his arms and snorting softly. “Just as unimpressive as I remember.”
“Close the door,” Lysandre instructed before I could reply. I nodded obediently and sealed us in.
“Mistress?”
“His Majesty seems pleased with your performance last night,” she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Based on their body language, I had obviously interrupted a heated conversation, probably about me.
“I certainly hope so,” I said, my eyes flicking over to the prince. I hadn’t seen him in almost six months, but he looked as annoyed as ever. He was tall and brutish with his mother’s eyes and most of his father’s power. Like all half-dragons—often called “Wyrmidons” by foreigners and Deadlanders—he could take on the shape of a human or a dragon whenever he liked. When combined with his sorcery and near invulnerability, he was more than a match for the strongest warrior—including any Dragon Bride.
“It’s a shame he wants to keep you to himself,” Jorel said, a dark smile on his lips. “Perhaps once he’s bored with you I’ll see what all the fuss is about.”
“I live to serve any who carry the Dragon God’s blood,” I told him, trying my hardest to sound honest.
“Yes, you do. Though my mother wonders if you might need a reminder of that soon.”
He took a step forward and loomed over me, his thick silver breastplate glittering in the dim lightning. Jorel had spent most of this year in Vantriss ostensibly learning the ins and outs of statecraft under the tutelage of Fourth Wife Zarona, and virtually every one of my sisters had been relieved by his absence. The fact he was the only other male in the kingdom with the authority to look upon our true faces and give us orders was bad enough, but the fact his mother was fond of deploying him as a “weapon” was the real problem.
Jorel was set to turn twenty shortly before my own birthday, but in just a few short years he had developed a number of appetites. He abused his power at every opportunity, harassing or outright humiliating any Bride who dared sleight him. Our bodies belonged to him just as much as his father, and he was fond of letting us know it. Worse, whenever somewhere dared stand up to Lysandre, she would often send Jorel to “set us straight” with a series of demeaning visits, sometimes in front of our fellow Brides.
I still remember when he showed up in the academy late at night, a drunken sixteen year-old boy with the authority to do anything he wanted. I’ll never forget the sound of Third Wife Havala’s whimpers when he bent her over the dinner table and took her right in front of her students. All of us had been terrified of her until that night, but after seeing her crouched on her knees, enslaved by the lust of a prince half her age…none of us ever looked at her the same way again.
“That’s enough,” Lysandre admonished, gesturing for her son to back away. I could tell that she was searching me for any sign of weakness, but as usual I didn’t back down. Even Jorel wouldn’t directly challenge his father.
“Do you have an assignment for me today, mistress?” I asked once he’d returned to his perch next to her desk.
“I do, in fact. Or rather, His Majesty does.” She leaned forward and plucked a rolled-up scroll from her desk. “Early this morning, he instructed me to commence an operation I’ve been planning for the past several months. Your encounter with Soren Drell in the Deadlands has convinced him that we need to embrace new tactics to deal with the Vin Aetheri threat.”
I nodded and recalled what the master had told me last night, though I wasn’t certain how much of our conversation I should share. I couldn’t imagine the look on her face if I told her that he saw me as his personal harbinger—or that he wanted me to bear him another child. Jorel was his only son, and Lysandre was the only Wife who had ever been blessed with motherhood in centuries of rule.
“He informed me that I would be undertaking a new mission on his behalf,” I said, splitting the difference. “However, he did not provide me with many details.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Lysandre mutte
red. I couldn’t tell whether she was annoyed with me or him. “The short version is that thanks to my son’s recent efforts in Vantriss, we finally have a means of infiltrating the Vin Aetheri. One of our Brides will assume a false identity, join their ranks, and dismantle their organization from within.” She paused and eyed me for a moment. “Needless to say, this will be the most important mission we have undertaken in years, possibly decades. Success will bring stability and order back to Narthil after years of chaos. Failure may cost us our only opportunity to destroy the rebels before they plunge the entire kingdom into civil war.”
“I understand,” I said solemnly.
“Do you?” Lysandre asked, her face as hard and cold as I’d ever seen. “The Bride who undertakes this mission must be cunning, quick on her feet, and subtle. I’m not convinced you are any of those.”
“With all due respect, mistress, you—”
“You are strong and powerful,” she interrupted. “If I knew where this ‘Conduit’ was hiding and wanted her dead, I would send you to kill her. But infiltration isn’t about thuggery. You are an enforcer, a brute, and I fear that placing the future of Narthil in the hands of a nineteen year-old is a grave mistake.”
I clenched my hands behind my back. “Then I suppose I should be thankful this decision isn’t up to you.”
Jorel took a threatening step forward. “You dare disrespect the First Wife?”
“I do not answer to the First Wife,” I told him as calmly as I could manage. “I answer to your father—and so do you. Both of you.”
The temperature in the room dropped with each passing second. I knew they couldn’t actually hurt me, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t do everything in their power to make my life miserable. Still, I refused to back down. The Dragon God himself had faith in me—in the end, nothing else mattered.
“You’re right, of course,” Lysandre said after a moment, a fraudulent smile tugging at her lips. “I had originally chosen Bride Rhyssa to carry out this mission due to her superior experience, but I’m confident you’ll perform just as well.”
“What exactly do you have planned?” I asked, ignoring the sarcasm.
Jorel glared at me for several more seconds before he eventually pointed at the massive map of Narthil hanging on the office’s western wall. It was incredibly detailed; every significant settlement, road, and outpost in the kingdom was drawn to scale. Tiny figurines represented which soldiers and Dragon Brides had been assigned to each garrison.
“I learned a great deal during my time in Vantriss, including how and where the rebels operate within the city,” he said. “They have deals with almost every smuggling cartel and piracy ring, and they’ve been able to recruit everyone from foreign mercenaries to escaped slaves to displaced refugees.”
“How is that possible?” I asked. “Why hasn’t Fourth Wife Zarona stopped them?”
Jorel scoffed and glanced back at his mother. “This is what we’re supposed to work with? She doesn’t understand—”
“The Vin Aetheri haven’t survived this long by being sloppy,” Lysandre interrupted coolly. “You read the reports when you were at the academy. You must understand how difficult they are to pin down. The Conduit may be their leader, but the vast majority of the cell leaders we’ve captured have never even met her. That’s why I sent you after Drell in the first place—he may be the only man in Narthil who actually knows where the Conduit is hiding.”
“I see,” I murmured. We had been taught plenty about the rebels at the academy, of course. The Council considered them as grave a threat as the Five Kingdoms and the Deadlanders outside our borders. Still, I’d always had trouble wrapping my head around their continued success. My master commanded an army of nearly two-hundred thousand soldiers, not including the Dragon Brides or his Wyrmguard. How could a handful of scattered mercenaries and peasants possibly compete with that?
“I’ve long assumed that the rebels have been receiving aid from the Heathen Kingdoms,” Lysandre went on after a moment. “Jorel has confirmed that this is indeed the case. King Sorokar in particular has been funneling supplies through the Deadlands into the eastern part of Narthil. Vantriss is one of the major hubs, and they have received so many weapons that I suspect some kind of massive attack is imminent.”
“A thousand swords, plus enough grain to supply an army through the winter,” Jorel added. “That’s why they’ve begun a new recruiting push. Not just for escaped slaves and refugees, but for real fighters. Foreigners, mercenaries, pirates—the rebels don’t care as long as the person knows how to swing a sword and follow orders.”
“Which brings us back to you,” Lysandre said. “With a bit of work, I’m convinced we can transform you into an attractive recruit. You’re one of the best duelists in all of Narthil, and they’ll gladly take on someone with your skill.”
“Assuming Drell doesn’t recognize me,” I said. “I spoke to him.”
“Yes, but he didn’t see your face. Putting together a disguise is the easy part—the challenge is building a convincing enough cover identity that they don’t kill you on the spot.”
“Fortunately, we’re in luck,” Jorel said, gesturing back to the map. “The Trelathi Corsairs are one of the most influential pirate confederacies in the Crescent Sea, and they also happen to be renowned fencers. More importantly, we know that at least a quarter of their captains are women. A Trelathi recruit won’t have to explain how or where she learned to fight.”
“I encountered one of their crews a year ago while I was assigned to the docks,” I said, my eyes narrowing as I searched my memory. “They were crude but tough.”
“One of their ships is scheduled to dock at Habelor in two weeks,” Lysandre said. “You are going to intercept them, kill them, and then take the identity of the captain’s first mate. While the ship burns, you’ll swim to shore as the only survivor out for revenge against the people who murdered your crew. The Vin Aetheri will scoop you up, and you’ll have a chance to infiltrate their ranks and tear them apart from the inside.”
I nodded idly as I considered the possibilities. It was an ambitious plan, to be sure, but I knew I could do it. Dragon Brides weren’t mere thugs, like Jorel believed. Assassination, espionage, seduction—we were trained in all of them from the time we were little girls.
Still, I hadn’t actually been on a deep cover mission since I’d graduated from the academy two years ago. The Council knew my strengths, and they had been comfortable deploying me as an enforcer all over western Narthil. Disguise and deception had always been Charisse’s specialty more than mine…
“If you squander this opportunity, do not expect my father to forgive you,” Jorel said. “He has plenty of other wives, and a new class will be graduating soon. I’m sure it won’t be long until one of them catches his eye.”
“I will not fail the Emperor,” I assured him, meeting his glare with one of my own. ”But I need more details.”
“You’ll have them…in time,” Lysandre said. “We still have preparations to make, but for now I just wanted you to know the basics. You’re going to spend most of this week training at the academy.”
I frowned. “What kind of training?”
“If you’re going to take on the role of a Trelathi Corsair, there are many things you need to know about their organization and relationships. Thankfully, our sisters in Vantriss have all the information you need. Your job will be to memorize it.” Lysandre paused for a moment. “There’s also the matter of your fencing techniques.”
“You just said I’m one of the best duelists in Narthil,” I reminded her. “I dominated my class at the academy—I won’t have any difficulty proving myself to a bunch of starving rebels.”
I knew the words were a mistake the instant they escaped my lips, but apparently I was already growing weary of her condescension. Just because I was an instrument of the master’s power didn’t mean I couldn’t still take pride in my abilities. I had worked hard to hone my body into a weapon.
“Your ‘class’ at the academy was one of the worst in decades,” Jorel hissed. “Climbing over the bodies of the weak does make you a champion. That blonde friend of yours, the one who spends more time in brothels that on duty…she wouldn’t have survived any normal year, let alone—”
Lysandre silenced him with a glare. “Confidence will keep you alive, my dear, but arrogance will get you killed. The instant you adopt one of our combat stances the Vin Aetheri will know exactly where you learned to fight. You’ll need to learn some eastern fighting styles if you want to survive.”
I pursed my lips and felt my cheeks warm in embarrassment. She hadn’t been casting doubt on my skills, but I had taken the bait anyway. Charisse always said my pride would get me into trouble.
“Instructor Vaylin is expecting you shortly. You’ll train with her all afternoon while I finish organizing everything we have on the Corsairs and the Vin Aetheri cell in Vantriss.”
“As you say, mistress.”
Lysandre eyed me for a moment before she leaned back in her chair again. “When you returned yesterday, you mentioned your fears about a potential informant in the palace. I dismissed your concerns out of hand…but evidently His Majesty shares them.”
The echoes of their sedition have finally reached the walls of my palace, the master’s words echoed through my mind. I hear them plotting against me.
“You will not speak about this mission to anyone, not even the other Wives,” Lysandre went on. “Do you understand?”
“Of course, mistress.”
“That includes your blonde friend,” Jorel said.