Sapient Salvation 1: The Selection (Sapient Salvation Series)

by Jayne Faith

  A cold sweat sprang to my chest and prickled over the rest of my skin. Yes, the first challenge. If I didn’t survive it, all else was irrelevant.

  9

  Toric

  WHEN I’D RETURNED to my chambers after surveying the Offered, my mind swirled with images of the dark angel.

  Maya.

  Her name was the beat of a drum in my brain, the rhythm of a primal chant.

  And she’d opened her eyes. In spite of what the doctor said, I knew that she’d seen me.

  Her eyes were the gray-flecked blue of a stormy Calistan sky. I couldn’t get the texture of her skin out of my mind. Heavy cream with a dollop of browned butter to warm it from neutral to . . . something I wanted to touch with the tip of my tongue.

  Darafina had been waiting when I returned, as I’d requested of Victor. At first, my heart leapt at the sight of her dark waves of hair, as my mind momentarily transposed Maya’s face onto Darafina’s. For the briefest of seconds, I’d almost believed that the dark angel had somehow come here, raced ahead so she could wait for me in my bed chamber.

  Of course, reality quickly straightened me out. My heart and mind knew the woman in my bed wasn’t Maya, but my body did not seem interested in receiving the message.

  I extinguished every light in my bed chamber except a single candle on a stand near the door. I stripped off my clothing and went to the woman who spread herself before me wearing only her inviting smile.

  “I’m delighted to serve at your favor, my Lord,” she purred. And she did look extremely pleased.

  When she reached out to stroke me, I caught her wrist and pushed her hand away. Her pleased expression faltered. She recovered with a seductive lowering of her eyelids, but I read a wisp of confusion in her energy.

  I closed my eyes, and with Maya’s face and vibrant energy in my mind, I coupled with Darafina once . . . twice . . . three times.

  After I collapsed on my back, sweating and satiated for the moment, Darafina sat up with glazed eyes.

  “My Lord, someone has been urgently knocking at your door for some time,” she said. “With your permission, I think it best that I leave you to your duties.”

  I nodded and waved her away. She quickly slipped on a robe and, walking a bit unsteadily, exited out a side doorway. I hadn’t even heard the door, but suddenly aware of the time that had passed, I guessed it was probably Victor, there to get me ready to receive the newly arrived Offered. Even if I was late, it was worth it. I couldn’t very well go into the throne room with my arousal pointing the way.

  I rose, stepped into undershorts, and went to the main door of my bed chamber.

  Victor emanated anxious concern that quickly turned to relief. “My Lord, give me just a moment, and I will have your clothes ready.” He gestured toward the dressing room.

  That he did not mention bathing first told me I was even later than I’d realized.

  In my undershorts, I sat at a mirrored counter to wait for one of my personal medics, a man named Tanning. Darafina had inflicted no wounds on me, but it was protocol for the royal medic to check me before I made a public appearance. Tanning quickly looked over my limbs and torso, and then asked me to stand so he could finish his check. Satisfied, he left without having to activate his healing devices.

  I put on immaculately pressed white linen pants and tunic, and then stood on a squat stool in front of a full-length mirror. Victor entered the dressing room and circled me, making small adjustments to the drape of my clothing. He clipped simple iron bands around each of my ankles and wrists. Then he took a cologne sprayer from a small wall cabinet and puffed it at me several times from all sides. It was a distillation of seven sacred plants from Earthenfell made in water from the homeland’s seven seas. It was a complex, subtle scent of things newborn and green, old and aged, fresh and floral, an indescribably organic richness that was unlike anything else in the world—on our world, at least.

  I ran a hand over my mussed hair, short and spikey but wavy when it was allowed to grow, and then Victor held up a crown of two metal bands—one iron and one copper—twisted together. He placed it on my head and I adjusted it, settling it into place.

  I turned to him. “How do I look?”

  His brows twitched up in a barely-noticeable shift of his expression. He peered at me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “I don’t believe you’ve ever asked me that before, my Lord.”

  I allowed a grin to widen my mouth. “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt quite the way I feel this evening, Victor.”

  “Well, you look . . . as a Lord should.”

  I gave a short laugh, stepped off the stool, and nodded to him. “Let’s go, then.”

  *

  I waited in a room tucked under the throne while the audience entered the throne room and settled themselves.

  With me were Calvin and Palovich, dressed in their royal guard uniforms of black trousers tucked into black boots and smart gray jackets that bore the circular Lord’s Seal in metallic silver.

  Akantha, the Mistress of Tournament, also waited in the room, clad in a stylish and flowing dress made of the same synthetic black material as the guards’ pants. It was fitted to show off her thin waist, and its wide bell sleeves fanned out when she moved and draped gracefully when her arms went still at her sides.

  She came to stand next to me. When I glanced down, her lips smiled pleasantly, but I didn’t like the glint in her eyes. “Did you find the Offered to your liking, my Lord?”

  My chest constricted, squeezing some of the air from my lungs, but I managed to keep a bland expression. How did Akantha know I’d already surveyed the Earthens? And what was her game in bringing it up now?

  “They are as satisfactory as any other offering of Earthens,” I said, my tone even.

  “Really?” She feigned mild, polite surprise. “There wasn’t even one who captured your interest?”

  At that, my heart lurched. She couldn’t know. Could she?

  “No,” I said, then turned my back on her.

  No matter what, I had to resist allowing her to bait me. I knew she’d been sharing Jeric’s bed for the past many months, and she would report my every word, my every twitch, to my brother. My thoughts flew to Maya. My brother must not discover that I favored one of the Offered. He always found a way to use my weaknesses to torment me.

  I went to the back of the room, to a cube-shaped glass cabinet that housed the ancient Earthen clay vessel that came out twice a year when the Offered were received by the Lord. It was one of the handful of sacred objects from Earthenfell that only the High Priestess Lunaria and I were allowed to handle.

  Holding the vessel in my hands, feeling its solidity and weight and the natural roughness of its surface, brought me a small measure of calm. The rusty-taupe color was flecked white with dryness and age. The arid atmosphere of Calisto would have degraded it to a pile of dust if not for the climate-controlled cabinet that it was stored in.

  When the door to the waiting room opened, I brushed past Akantha and went to the doorway. Flanked by Calvin and Palovich, I walked with slow, ceremonial steps down the dimly lit tunnel toward the brighter light of the throne room.

  The side of my neck throbbed faintly as my pulse accelerated. The dark angel—Maya—was out there with the rest of the Offered. I could sense her already.

  The hallway opened at the base of the throne platform and everyone rose as I entered. The Priestess, in her opalescent shimmering robes, stood waiting. I paused to hand her the clay vessel, and then turned and strode up the handful of steps to the carved wooden chair at the top of the platform. The seat of the throne was shiny with centuries of use. I waited until Calvin and Palovich had taken their places a step down from the throne on my left and right before sitting. A beat later, the Calistans and Earthens filling the tiers sat down in a rustle of clothing.

  Below at the foot of the platform, the Priestess and Akantha stood side-by-side facing me.

  A tingling charge passed through my entire body
as I tuned into the energies of the hundreds of people gathered. I’d already picked out Maya’s signature and it drew me like the siren song from the ancient Earthen stories, but I forced my eyes to sweep the entire audience. My sister Cassi sat with Mother and Jeric in the center front row. Behind them, relatives both close and distant filled the seats. In the section to the left were Victor and my other Earthen manservants. The ones who currently served me sat in the foremost rows and the retired servants behind. On the right were the women of the harem. As with the manservants, my harem sat nearest to the floor and those who had served my father or who had reached the age of retirement lined the rows behind.

  Sytoria was shooting daggers from her eyes at Darafina. But Darafina was beaming at me. Clearly word of Darafina’s recent time with me—and the great vigor of our coupling on my part—had reached Sytoria. I felt a twinge of sympathy for Darafina, both for the fact that my enthusiasm in bed did not actually have much to do with her and for the ways that Sytoria would likely punish Darafina for receiving my attention.

  I recognized other officials—Council members, high-ranking military men, royal artists and musicians, holy men and women from the Temple of the Mother Earth, and some of Calisto’s master craftsmen and women—peppered throughout the top few rows.

  I finally allowed myself to shift focus to the Offered, who were standing in a solemn line in the center of the floor, holding their offering vessels and facing me.

  As I surveyed the Offered left to right, pausing for a moment on each one, my attention snagged when I got to Maya, fifth from the left. Her chin was lifted, her lips firmed just so, to give her a subtle air of defiance. But underneath, I detected her apprehension.

  Her eyes rose to meet mine, and a cacophony of conflicting vibrations seemed to burst around her. I drew a sharp breath in through my nose and pried my gaze from her, shifting to the next Offered. As much as my eyes wanted to remain on her, I could not allow myself to single her out.

  When I reached the end of the line, I nodded to the Priestess and Akantha. “You may begin.”

  They both inclined their heads and then turned to face the Offered.

  “Come forward to make your gift and your introduction to Lord Toric,” Akantha said, her voice ringing out through the chamber.

  Akantha took an almost too-obvious dark pleasure in commanding the young Earthen men and women. Not for the first time, I observed that power over others seemed to fuel her.

  The first of the Offered, a strong-looking young man with a calm demeanor, walked forward with his vessel of Earthen soil. He poured the soil into the bowl the Priestess held out and then knelt to set his jar on the floor between Akantha and the Priestess.

  Standing with his spine straight and his shoulders pulled back, he raised his eyes to me. “My Lord, my name is Orion. I humbly give this bit of the homeland in your name and offer myself into your service. I will serve you with honesty, integrity, and loyalty.” He inclined his head for a long beat.

  I gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, and Orion returned to his place in line. The Offered composed their own introductions, and I immediately liked this young man’s introduction as well as the energetic aura he gave off—he appeared unpretentious and even-keeled. He was also well built, and if he’d been born Calistan, he might have made a fine guard.

  With effort, I managed to at least remember the names of the next two: Amet and Erin.

  The fourth Offered, an attractive young woman with wide eyes and chin-length reddish-brown hair, bore a painful-looking welt on one arm. I shot a glance at Akantha, wondering what offense had prompted her to mark the girl right before the introduction ceremony. Whatever it was, the Mistress of Tournament had clearly not seen fit to repair the damage of the punishment. Akantha knew that it would affect the girl’s standing of favor. I stifled a sigh. I would have no choice but to rank her—she introduced herself as Larisa—among the lower of the women at the end of the ceremony. It wasn’t just about a physical defect, but what it signified: Larisa was disobedient.

  Larisa made her offering and went back to the line. It was Maya’s turn.

  Now with an excuse to center my full attention on her, I drank her in.

  Her face had paled slightly, maybe due to nerves, making the contrast between her skin and dark hair even lovelier. She shifted the jar in her hands to pour out its contents. Her hands were delicate, her fingers slender, but her movements were sure.

  When she lifted her eyes to mine, I had to remind myself to keep breathing.

  “I am Maya, my Lord. I bring with me a bit of Earthenfell in my hands and my peoples’ prayers for the annihilation of our enemies in my heart. I offer myself into your service with the hope that we will return to Earth in our lifetimes.”

  There were a few murmurs in the audience at her mention of enemies, and louder murmurs when she made reference to the Return to the homeland. My lips twitched in the start of an appreciative smile before I could compose myself.

  It was not the sort of thing the Offered usually said when they introduced themselves, but . . . it stirred something deep within me. I liked that she acknowledged the larger purpose of her presence here, rather than simply trying to ingratiate herself to me. It was an unprecedented introduction that carried an undercurrent of a battle cry.

  I couldn’t imagine that Maya’s personal handler had advised her to say something so bold, but perhaps it was in fact a calculated move. Or maybe in the end her handler had simply lost the argument.

  Maya stood there, looking up at me with an impressively confident set of her shoulders. It took me a moment to realize she was waiting for me to dismiss her. I inclined my head at a slight angle as one corner of my mouth lifted. I couldn’t help it—she’d surprised me, and I had to acknowledge it. Was it my imagination, or did her brows twitch up ever so slightly in reply to my slight smile?

  My body filled with a warm glow, a surge of life, as I watched her stride back to the line. She’d surprised not only me but nearly everyone in the throne room, if the shifting and low comments that continued to whisper through the space were any indication.

  The next Earthen, a shapely young woman with beautiful gold hair and pillowy pink lips, stood waiting for the noise to die down, her confident smile directed right at me. Her expression clearly said that she, at least, wasn’t at all impressed by Maya’s introduction.

  When she walked forward, slowly with her hips swaying and her chest out, I understood why. Just by the way she moved, it was clear she’d had preparation for the Tournament of the Offered.

  As she emptied her vessel into the Priestess’s bowl, she glanced up at me from under her half-lowered lids, unlike all of the others who had kept their attention on the ceremonial bowl.

  Then she knelt almost primly with her knees to the side and her eyes on me while she placed her empty vessel with the others on the floor. When she stepped back, she looked up at me fully and her open, warm yet seductive smile somehow seemed to convey that she knew me, that she’d known me for some time and had guessed things about me that no one else knew.

  “My Lord,” she said, lowering her lids and inclining her head. When she looked up again, her face was a shade more serious. She continued in an invitingly smooth voice. “My name is Kalindi. It is my greatest honor and deepest pleasure to stand before you today to offer you the essence of Earthenfell.” She paused to gesture to the Priestess’s bowl of soil with one graceful hand. “And to offer you the essence of myself—my body, mind, and spirit. I have been looking forward to this day for so very long, and my only hope in life is that you find me worthy to serve you.”

  Kalindi was impressive in every way, and I couldn’t deny that her introduction had been perfectly delivered. Even more remarkable was the energy she emanated, which confirmed that her words were sincere—she truly and wholeheartedly wanted to be here and desired to serve me. She was the very embodiment of what any Lord would look for in a woman for his harem.

  I dismissed her, and my eyes fli
cked involuntarily from Kalindi as she turned to rejoin the other Offered to Maya, who stiffened as Kalindi took her place in line and bumped against Maya’s arm.

  I received the rest of the Offered, memorizing their names and mentally re-ordering their ranks of favor after each one presented. But all the while, part of my attention kept bouncing between Maya and Kalindi, at the contrast between the two of them.

  By the time the last young Earthen had poured out his offering, introduced himself, and stepped back into line, my stomach was tight with anticipation. I knew who I wanted to rank first, but I also knew that I would encounter opposition and would make myself vulnerable if I showed my attraction to Maya.

  I rose, went down the steps, and turned into the hallway with Akantha and the Priestess following close behind. When the three of us were back in the waiting room—no guards, servants, or other personnel were allowed to be present during the rank of favor deliberations—I turned to the women and drew a deep breath.

  Already I could tell this Tournament would not be an easy one. For me or for the Offered.

  10

  Maya

  IRIS HAD PREPARED me for what to expect, and all of us Obligates had emerged from our dressing rooms for a brief walk-through of the introduction ceremony in the empty throne room. But later when we filed into the packed space, my heart pounded in my ears and nerves gripped my stomach.

  I managed to register that the center section of the audience was filled with Calistans, while mostly Earthens sat in the sections on either side. It was shocking somehow to see dozens of Earthens gathered here, so very far away from our home. So many sacrifices, men and women over many generations who had left their families and homes never to return.

  I tried to scan for familiar faces—I’d known some of the Obligates by name from the past few Selections—before I remembered that most of the Obligates would not have ended up here. The majority of the Obligates who left Earthenfell ended up dead in the competition or sent away to other lands. Only the winners sat in this room—one man and one woman from each Selection. A manservant and a lady of the harem. Thirty-two young men and women came here from Earthenfell each year, and each year twenty-eight of them were losers.