Lovers and Beloveds

by MeiLin Miranda

  "Temmin, you're Heir to one of the greatest nations on earth. Of course you're indulged. You can have or do anything you want," said Issak.

  Temmin awkwardly jerked himself upright, out of their reach. "No, in fact, I can't," he said, as haughtily as he could with his fly open; he tucked himself back in. "I didn't have a choice in leaving home, I don't have a choice in my studies, I don't have a choice in my friends"--and here the spotty face of Fennows rose again, sneering. "And I can't choose my path in life. I'll be King, and that's all I can be," he finished.

  "You have a choice here," said Allis.

  Temmin sat with his elbows on his knees, head down. "I have to think about it."

  "We understand, but you need to tell us soon," said Allis. "We need time to prepare. You need time to prepare."

  "I should go now," said Temmin.

  "Anda," called Issak, "please tell the majordomo to bring the Heir's carriage around."

  Temmin looked up at the rustle of fabric; the fat servant girl rose from a nearby couch. "Hang on, how long has she been here?"

  The girl paused at the door. "The whole time. You're very pretty when you come."

  Temmin rose to his feet, turning an appalled purple. "I don't like it when servants turn their faces to the wall--though in this case it would've been the least you could have done!" he sputtered. "I don't believe servants are to be treated impolitely, and I count many servants among my--my dearest friends. But a servant I don't know, sneaking in and observing a...private moment that has nothing to do with her in a place where she shouldn't have been--!"

  "Where am I supposed to be?" said the girl. "This is my room."

  "Your room? This is where the Supplicants live... Are you trying to tell me you're a Supplicant?"

  "Prince Temmin of Tremont, may I present to you Miss Anda Barrows, Supplicant of the Lovers' Temple," said Issak.

  Anda crossed the room; Temmin hadn't noticed her grace before, and his eyes followed the sway of her hips and breasts. She gave a fluid curtsey, then to his surprise drew him into a kiss so expert it penetrated to his toes. The scent of tea time came from her skin--vanilla cakes, red currant jelly, cream, black tea--and when she pulled away from him, disappointment replaced his astonishment. "You'll like me once you get to know me," she said, patting his cheek.

  "Take your impudence off to the majordomo, Anda Supplicant," said Issak affectionately.

  The twins' goodbye kisses lingered on Temmin's lips as he rolled back up the broad Promenade to the Keep; he acknowledged the strolling gentry with an occasional distracted wave or nod, but looked straight through even the prettiest young woman on the Promenade.

  "My choice. It's my choice whether I do this or not. It's not up to Papa, or Teacher, or anyone--it's up to me alone." He savored the idea, rolling it around and around long after the gates of the Keep closed behind the carriage.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dinner that night was a thoroughly uncomfortable meal, but no matter how fast Temmin ate, it never seemed to end. His father kept a stony silence; his mother watched them both with apprehension. Ellika bounced with impatience; Sedra merely crooked an eyebrow at him. Fennows smirked and grimaced and nudged his way through all five courses.

  When the ladies left and Affton brought in the port and cheese tray, Temmin swallowed a polite glass and rose to excuse himself. To his surprise, Harsin rose as well. "Fennows, we're leaving the ladies to you," the King said. "I'm sure you won't mind."

  "Oh, I should think not!" said Fennows, brightening. "P'rhaps I can finally convince Elly to listen to my poetry!" The lordling knocked back his port, scattering nutshells and cheese rinds, and hurried toward the Small Sitting Room.

  Once father and son sat before the fire in Harsin's study, the butler re-appeared with another decanter. "I had Affton set aside the best port for us. No point wasting it on that ass Fennows," snorted Harsin.

  As his father filled their glasses, Temmin said, "If you think Fennows is an ass, why is he here?"

  "I'm placating Lord Corland. He wants King's laws against slavery repealed. Perfectly legal in Inchar, you know, and he wants to bring his best slaves there up to his northern estates. Seems unlikely to succeed if he does. I'm hesitant to bring masses of them into the country. Corland says it's just a few, but that's how it always starts, and I have enough trouble with revolts in Inchar itself without watching for it inside the country. The Fathers are against importation if only because it will cut into the fees they receive for indentures--why pay for an indentured servant when you can just buy a slave. Besides, Incharis are creatures of the tropics, they mightn't stand the cold. I may still have to let him do it--it's unclear whether King's law actually covers Incharis."

  "Don't you decide what King's law is?"

  "It's not so simple." They sat in silence, Temmin wishing to be back in his own rooms. "So," said Harsin, "how was the tour?"

  Temmin braced himself for the dreaded conversation. "The tour? Oh...it was--it was interesting."

  "What did they tempt you with? Platters of sweets laid out on the bare breasts of Beloveds?"

  Temmin shot his father a sullen look. "It wasn't like that," he said.

  "Really? That's what they offer me whenever I tour it. My last visit with her was about a year ago. I'm due for another."

  Temmin's belly clenched. "'Her?'"

  "Allis Obby, son, who d'you think I mean?" At Temmin's ashen face, he added, "It's the King's duty, but she and her brother have sex with every influential man the Temple has to tea. Some of the women, too, if more discreetly."

  "You've...been with Allis?"

  "Just the once. So far."

  Temmin's mouth framed silent words. The world became as focused and clear as when he'd defended himself against Nat Horn, and the assassin in the garden.

  "I understand your captivation, completely," Harsin continued. "She's beautiful in evening clothes, but she's incomparable out of them, let me tell you. Her breasts are so firm for their size, and she's remarkably flexible. Perhaps the most beautiful woman I've ever bedded."

  The blood returned to Temmin's face in a rush, draining his heart dry. This was his, this was his decision, Allis and Issak were his, and now-- "And you've bedded a few, haven't you," he said aloud.

  "You say that as if I should be ashamed of myself."

  "Perhaps you should be, sir. I think of my mother, even if you don't."

  "My marriage is no concern of yours," said his father. "It has no bearing on my other activities. Fucking the Embodiment is a royal responsibility, not just an enjoyable afternoon."

  "Don't say 'fuck' when you talk about her!"

  "Temmin, what do you think she does all day? Who do you think they are, these Obbys?"

  "They're the Embodiments of the Gods!"

  "They're prostitutes!" shouted Harsin. "They're prostitutes from Belleth! That's where Teacher found them--in a whorehouse in Ouve!"

  Temmin shook, half in rage, half in shock. "Who told you this?"

  "I didn't really care who they were before now, but with my son and Heir falling under their sway, it was incumbent upon me to find out. They were born at a brothel called the House of Polls. When they reached a certain age, they became prostitutes themselves."

  "That can't be true," Temmin insisted, though he remembered something Allis had said at their picnic: "We've been training for our positions since birth."

  "Do you see what they are? Will you stop now?" said his father.

  A sick green mist crept into Temmin's vision, and the port he'd downed threatened to come back up. "Merciful Amma," he said, and fled the room.

  Harsin watched him go. He leaned back against his tufted leather chair and closed his eyes, opening them when Winmer entered from the King's office. "It's done," said Harsin.

  Winmer nodded. "His Highness is a romantic young man, sir. These revelations can do nothing but tarnish her in his eyes, possibly beyond cleansing. I must say I wasn't surprised when I got the report."

  "Nor
I. Poor things," Harsin murmured. Louder, he said, "Well done, Winmer. I'm impressed by the speed of your agents." Harsin closed his eyes again, the firelight casting shadows along the lines of his face.

  "Your Majesty, are you well?" said the secretary.

  "I blasphemed, Winmer. I called the Embodiments prostitutes."

  "I don't believe in blasphemy, sir. Let me refresh your port."

  Harsin took the refilled glass. "I don't believe, Winmer--I know. I blasphemed, and They'll demand Their price for it. But if it keeps Temmin from the Temple, I'll pay it. Have you sent for Lord Litta?"

  "He'll be here in the morning, sir," nodded Winmer.

  "Good." Harsin filled his glass again and quickly tossed back half. "I want reinforcements, just in case."

  Once in his rooms Temmin spent a restless evening, pacing about his study and running his hands through his hair, to the point that Jenks enquired after his trouble. Temmin refused to answer and tried to dismiss the valet early, but Jenks insisted on preparing him for bed. "If I don't, sir, I'll come back in the morning to your clothes all over the bedchamber and the bathroom turned inside out."

  "I'm not a child! I don't need a keeper, or a nurse, or a valet, or anyone. I order you to leave!"

  The older man unfolded his arms, and braced himself on the green velvet couch. "Temmin, what's wrong?"

  "Everything!" he roared. "Just go away!"

  Jenks thinned his mouth into a concerned line, said, "If you need me, I'm near, sir," and left.

  Temmin choked on tears as soon as the door closed. He collapsed onto the couch, but returned to his pacing in moments, uneasy in his skin. He hated himself, he hated his father, he hated Jenks for making him lash out, he hated Teacher for encouraging all these erotic notions, he hated Allis and Issak...

  Did he hate them? He didn't know. If the Embodiments were simply prostitutes, Fennows was right; they played pretend for the worshippers' titillation and the filling of the Temple's coffers. Allis and her brother wanted political advantage for the Temple, and nothing more. What should he do?

  Hours of this, and Temmin tried sleep. As Jenks predicted, he flung his clothes about the room and left his wet washcloth on the bathroom floor, despite an earlier resolution to prove his man wrong.

  Lying awake, he obsessed over everything Allis and Issak ever said and did, digging for reasons to believe in them. On that splendid day in the foothills, Allis had said, "When everyone abandoned us, we had one another." What did she mean? It had to be important--perhaps it held his solution. He fell asleep to her pensive voice whispering "abandoned," over and over.

  Nightmares assailed him in his sleep; in most, Allis compared him to his father and found him lacking. He woke heartsore.

  A silent Jenks attended to him. Temmin couldn't muster the energy to apologize, and Jenks left the study with few words between them, adding to Temmin's heartache. He took Jebby out for a short run, avoided his father's tense, triumphant eye at breakfast, and stomped upstairs in perhaps the worst mood of his short life. Teacher awaited.

  Temmin launched into the night's revelations without a greeting. "Is it true, Teacher, what my father said? They whored themselves out? How can I believe anything they ever tell me? How can I believe anything you ever tell me?"

  Temmin didn't think Teacher could be any paler, but his tutor's face went a silent, deadly white. "Forgive me, I have sudden business to attend to," whispered Teacher.

  "What business? What are you going to do?"

  "If you want to know the truth, I suggest you not delay. Ride to the Temple and ease your mind. Allis and Issak will answer any questions you put to them, even these."

  "But I asked you a question!" he said to Teacher's retreating back. "Pagg damn it, answer me! How can I trust you! Augh!" He ran his fingers through his hair, setting it on end. "Jenks! Where are you?" He stuck his head out the door. "Find Jenks now," he said to the nearest footman.

  Temmin strode into his wardrobe. Jenks hurried in not long after, still pulling on his coat. "I was taking my morning tea. What's amiss, Your Highness?"

  Temmin shoved a coat at him. "I need to ride to the Temple. Will this do?"

  "No, try this one, sir," said Jenks, professionalism overtaking concern. "Your linen is fine. Buff waistcoat and breeches, your best riding boots, the low topper. And this cravat. The amber studs and cufflinks, a plain pin. You need to brush your hair, and I should have shaved you this morning."

  "Doesn't matter." He pulled off his morning trousers and waistcoat.

  "Temmin, will you please tell me what's wrong?" pleaded the big man.

  Temmin stopped, one leg in the breeches and the new waistcoat unbuttoned. He slumped onto a bench. "If you found out that...that people close to you, people you cared about, might not be what you thought they were..."

  "Oh?" said Jenks, his face still and apprehensive. "Who?" He waited as Temmin slipped his other leg into the breeches and pulled them up.

  "The Embodiments," said Temmin.

  Jenks relaxed a fraction, then tensed in shock.

  "What if you found out they weren't holy," Temmin continued, "that they were...what if you found something like that out?"

  "Where are you hearing such things?"

  "My father told me last night they were born in a whorehouse in Ouve. That they...damn it, Jenks, he said they were prostitutes. And that she's his leavings," he bit out. "He had her a year ago."

  Jenks paused, Temmin's gloves in one hand. "I understand why you're upset. It would upset me, too, were I in your shoes. But it's the King's duty to lie with Neya's Embodiment, just as it is for him to hold council with Pagg's Embodiment, and fight with Farr's. As for the Holy Ones, they were chosen by the Gods, sir. Why would their past have any bearing on their suitability?"

  "They were chosen by Teacher. He may think he's a god, but I don't see his temple on the Promenade. How can you be holy and have sex for money?" He snatched the gloves from Jenks and marched from the wardrobe to the study. "Of course, everyone says that's what they do now."

  "That's blasphemy!" said Jenks, trailing behind.

  "If it's blasphemy, my father said enough last night for the Gods to strike him down where he stood, and I saw him at breakfast, quite well. And then there's Fennows."

  "So we're taking Lord Fennows' word, now, sir? You said he was a 'fathead.'"

  Temmin wheeled on him. "You forget yourself, Jenks! You are speaking of a peer. And you're addressing the Heir, not a little boy!" He slammed his hat on his head and ran from the Keep to the stables, boot heels scattering the pathway gravel. Once there, he brushed off every groom, saddled and mounted the barely-dry Jebby himself, and dashed down the long drive to the gates.

  The Guards saw him coming. They shouted for him to please wait, Your Highness, you must have a detail with you, sir, please, sir, slow down! But he showed no signs of doing so. The Guards managed to open the gates enough for a single rider, and he thundered past. If he saw a gateminder gallop off toward the Guards' compound, he paid him no mind.

  Snow melt swelled the Feather River; its roar swallowed the sound of Jeb's hooves as they pounded across Kingsbridge into Old Town. Traffic brought his pace to a trot, giving the crowds a chance to recognize him. He heard the now-familiar cheers, and a path cleared enough for him to reach the Promenade without slowing to a walk.

  At the Lovers' Temple, he gave the chestnut to a groom standing at the foot of the steps, and charged into the Great Hall. There he stopped, unsure what to do next, until the beautiful young man from the day before appeared, bowing before him. "Your Highness, you're unexpected," he said. "My name is Senik. Please, let me offer you refreshment while I find a senior--"

  "I don't want a senior anything. You will find the Embodiments, preferably both of them," interrupted Temmin. "I don't care where I wait. I want to speak with them and only them immediately."

  "Of course," said the startled young man. "Please, follow me, sir."

  Senik led him to the same reception roo
m where he'd had tea with the Most Highs and left him on the low couch, until the unlikely Anda Supplicant broke his solitude. She sailed in with the tea things, her Temple clothes flowing around her over-abundant curves. "I don't want tea, I want Allis," he snapped at her.

  "Don't we all, and hello to you, too," she replied, sitting opposite. Her brown eyes sparkled with good humor; Temmin wanted to pull her hair out. "Never worry, Senik is on their trail. Don't let looks fool you, he's very efficient. Milk? Sugar?" Temmin scowled, but took the proferred cup. "Merciful Amma, I haven't seen such a look since I told my mother the Temple accepted my Supplicancy. Speaking of which, are you joining us?"

  "It's none of your concern, and you're being awfully familiar with me."

  Anda rose to sit beside him. She fixed his eye, despite her plainness; her curves reminded him of the rolling grasslands and grain fields of Whithorse. Her light brown hair fell to her hips in a shiny river, and she still smelled so good, of tea and jelly cakes. She struck him less as fat, and more as delicious. "Titles don't mean much in a temple," she said. "If you take Supplicancy, I'll outrank you. I'll be helping teach you. Which involves a great deal of intimacy, if you haven't guessed, and intimacy breeds concern, or should."

  "I don't want you as my teacher," he said. He moved away but the couch's arm blocked his escape.

  Anda leaned in. "Oh, yes, you do. I make you uncomfortable. You tell yourself you don't like my body, but your eyes linger a little too long on it." Temmin reddened, remembering her kiss. "You want to see my breasts again. You want to kiss me again." She brought her face nose to nose. "You want to make love with me," she whispered. She settled back against the cushions again, a smile rounding her cheeks. "Some day soon, maybe you will! Oh, don't be angry, Your Highness," she added at Temmin's deep frown, "I'm not mocking you. I'm reading you. It's not my place to take your virginity. I don't want to be responsible for you. I like you, and you're very pretty and all, but someone like you needs the Embodiments, not me."

  "Someone like me?"