by Sarra Cannon
“Not everyone is as far-thinking as you.”
“Just out of curiosity, where are you hearing such things?”
A playful grin split Marcus’s face. “In the shipping business, you hear a lot of rumors at the docks. It helps that I can blend in easier there. As long as they don’t see my eyes, they think I’m a typical Elymanian sailor.”
Titus rubbed his jaw, mentally cataloging all his potential enemies. When he reached twenty, he stopped. “It would be helpful to know who was behind it.”
“I’ll keep my ears open. In the meantime, don’t let Pontus’s gift go to your head. And by head, I mean the one above your shoulders, not the one below them.”
A twinge of unease coiled in at the base of his spine. “Surely you don’t think she’s a threat, do you?”
“She has access to you when you are your most defenseless.”
He remembered how she had blindfolded him the first night. He’d let his guard down completely, had left himself vulnerable to her. If Pontus had sent her to harm him, she’d had ample opportunity to do so. “You don’t have to worry about her. The only thing she’s done is torture me with her teasing.”
Marcus cocked a brow. “You mean you haven’t—”
“No.” Titus stood and paced, trying to work some of his frustration out. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t bring myself to…”
“To what?”
“To force her to do something she doesn’t want.” He remembered how it had been with Lucia. She’d lay there in their bed as he came inside her, her expression one of bored acceptance rather than pleasure. She’d been forced into their marriage as much as he had, and they had both been completely miserable. No wonder she’d sought pleasure in another man’s arms. He thought he’d done the right thing by offering her a divorce so she could be with the man she loved, never thinking she would rather preserve her Deizian honor by drowning herself than lose her place as his wife.
“She’s a concubine, Titus. They’re only trained to do one thing.”
He couldn’t deny that she was well skilled in the art of seduction, but something didn’t quite fit. She seemed too well- educated, too well-travelled to be a woman who’d spent her entire life pleasuring men. There was something in her past that she wanted to keep hidden from him. And if he wanted to gain access to it, he’d have to be patient.
“Maybe, maybe not,” he replied.
— —
Azurha sat on a bench while an Alpirion slave pinned her hair into place. How odd to be waited on by someone of her own race. She couldn’t tell if resentment or envy glowed from the girl’s eyes when they met, but she was glad not to have to meet her gaze for now.
So far the gods seemed to be on her side. After taking inventory of her resources this afternoon, Azurha decided to use a slow acting poison to kill Titus.
It troubled her a bit to realize she couldn’t bring herself to kill him with her own two hands. She’d never had that trouble before, not since she sliced her master’s throat with a broken piece of crockery. Why the hesitation now? Was it because he seemed to seek out her opinion, to value it as though she was one of his trusted advisors rather than a simple concubine? Was it because he seemed content once again to allow her into his bed yet not seek his own pleasure from her?
The memory of his tongue exploring her most intimate recesses made her sex quiver. That was why. No man had ever worried about what she wanted, about what she thought and felt. Even after gaining her freedom, she still answered to the whims of her clients. Posing as a concubine, she should be serving the emperor, fulfilling all his sexual fantasies, not moaning in pleasure when he sucked on her clit.
Her skin flushed, and when she heard the locks to the harem click, she almost bolted for the door. She craved one more night with him, and the poison she’d chosen would give her enough time to enjoy him before it took effect.
Varro stepped into the room with a swath of white material draped over his arm. “Emperor Sergius requests you wear this tonight.”
Azurha almost laughed out loud. The virginal white suited a bride, not a concubine. She wondered if Titus had some sick sense of humor she didn’t know about. She took the dress. “As the emperor commands,” she replied with a half-smile.
The slave followed her into her dressing room and helped her change. Her heart skipped a beat when she remembered the small vial of poison tucked between her breasts, but she managed to conceal it from the girl.
The new dress was of a different style than most of the women in the empire wore. The thin white linen gathered in intricate pleats over her breasts and fell in crisp lines to her lower legs, revealing the curve of her calves. It reminded her more of traditional Alpirion clothing, something her grandmother might have worn before Titus’ grandfather stripped her people of their identity and forced them into slavery. Anger coursed through her veins. Was he trying to mock her?
The slave girl must have recognized the style, too, because her eyes widened when she secured the thin linen strap over one shoulder. Emperor Gellius may have outlawed their clothing, but paintings of Alpirion ladies still floated around the empire. Her lips formed a thin line. “He must wish to reenact his grandfather’s conquest,” she whispered under her breath as she arranged the matching palla to conceal Azurha’s hair and face.
Azurha placed her finger over the girl’s mouth. “Be careful what you say inside these walls. You do not want to make enemies. There are far worse masters out there than the emperor.”
The slave nodded in understanding and lowered her eyes. Azurha’s heart ached for her. She knew the fear of being bought and sold at a moment’s notice, being torn from her family and forced into the service of a monster. She stroked the girl’s cheek to reassure her. “Do not fear. I won’t whisper this to anyone.”
As she followed Varro to the Imperial chambers, she asked, “Where did he find a dress like this? I thought they were outlawed.”
The servant merely shrugged. “The emperor has more resources at his hands than you can imagine.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps he merely wanted to see you in it.”
Or out of it. She wondered how long she’d stay in this dress once his lips touched hers. One more night of this charade, she promised herself. By tomorrow, the poison will make him too ill to summon me to his chambers.
Other than the sound of their footsteps, silence filled the long corridor. Azurha’s chest tightened, making it harder to breathe. After all the people she’d killed over the last decade, why was this assassination so nerve-wracking?
Cassius’ voice filtered into her mind. Because you got too close to your target.
The flash on the bronze plate jerked her from her thoughts, and iron-fisted determination seized control of her. She wouldn’t fail tonight. By the end of the week, she’d be a rich woman looking for a small estate somewhere far from here.
“I took the liberty of having dinner set up for two,” Varro said as he led her inside. “If the emperor doesn’t find this to his liking, I’ll send something else. I found it rather odd that he requested honey be served with every meal. Emperor Sergius has never had much of sweet tooth.”
She bit her bottom lip to conceal her smile. If he only knew how the honey had been used two nights ago. A fist of remorse clenched her gut when she realized she wouldn’t feel his tongue lapping it off her breasts again.
“I see we’re a bit early,” he continued as he surveyed the empty chambers. “You’re to wait here until he returns. Good evening, Lady Azurha.” He bowed his head slightly and closed the doors behind him. A loud click echoed through the room.
She unwound the palla from her head and tossed it on the cushions. Time to stop playing games. She removed the vial from between her breasts and poured the powder into one of the goblets on the table. Then she added a small amount of wine, swirling the liquid to dissolve the poison before filling it to the brim. Even if Titus was paranoid enough to hire a food taster, he wouldn’t detect it until
tomorrow. All she needed to do now was make sure he had a sip of wine before beginning with the evening’s pleasantries.
Disgust filled her when she noticed her trembling hands. She balled them up into fists and forced herself to sit on the cushions while she waited for her prey.
— —
“I think you handled those sycophants rather well, Titus,” Marcus said with a touch of laughter in his voice. “The only other thing I’d suggest is hanging the threat of execution over their heads if they follow you outside the throne room.”
Titus chuckled. After being chased back his private quarters last night, he made it very clear that anyone who followed him past the door tonight would suffer the consequences. Anyone except Marcus, that was. They’d been friends practically since the cradle, and most of the court knew that. In fact, some of the nobles had begun whispering their thoughts in Marcus’ ear as soon as Titus’s father became ill, hoping to gain favor with the heir to the throne through him.
“I’m just grateful for a few minutes of solitude.” His friend nodded. “Any plans for the evening?”
Heat rose into his cheeks. Despite his determination to remain focused on the needs of the empire, his thoughts kept returning to the Alpirion temptress waiting for him in his chambers. Was it wrong of him to want to see her dressed like the women who adorned the exquisitely erotic paintings he’d seen hung in art galleries? “I’ll be dining with Azurha.”
“Azurha?” Marcus cocked one eyebrow. “Is that her name?”
“Yes.” He hoped his clipped reply would end the conversation, but his friend had other ideas.
“Alpirion?”
“Yes.”
“You never struck me as the type who found the darker skinned women attractive.”
Titus stopped and spun around on his heel. “Just because I’m forced to marry a Deizian woman doesn’t mean my tastes are exclusive to them. Azurha has these eyes that make me…” His voice drifted off as he remembered the hunger in those teal eyes as he made her come last night. His cock stiffened. If this conversation continued much further, the evidence for his desire would be on display for anyone to see.
“So, in other words, she’s not your normal Alpirion slave girl?”
“Far from it.” But she was also a gift from Pontus and, therefore, needed to be handled with caution. If he could gain her trust, perhaps he could learn the truth behind why his cousin sent her here.
He pressed his hand against the plate outside his door, and his fingers tingled. Simple magic like this, he could handle. Reinforcing the barriers was an entirely different matter. He dreaded repeating that over and over again every day of his reign. Gods forbid if he needed to call upon stronger magic like his grandfather did when he finally conquered the Alpirions.
His thoughts turned to the one Alpirion waiting for him in his chambers. What kind of magic would he have to summon to gain her trust, to get her to surrender herself to him without letting the terrors of her past dictate her actions?
The door opened, and Azurha rose from the cushions in the middle of the room. His breath caught. Yes, she was every bit as alluring as he imagined she would be in that dress. The sheer linen hugged her breasts, doing little to conceal her dark areolas before flaring out over her sensuous hips. The only thing that kept her from matching the paintings was the way her hair had been pinned up in an Elymanian style instead of cascading down her back.
A smile touched her full lips when she met his gaze. If she only felt half the desire he did, he may forget his hesitations and fully enjoy his gift as she was intended to be enjoyed.
A low whistle sounded behind him, and Azurha flinched. She snatched her palla and stared at Marcus, her face hardening.
“No need to conceal your face, Azurha,” Titus said as he approached her. “Marcus is my closest friend.”
Something flashed in her eyes as they flickered between the two men. Fear? Anger? Her fingers bunched up the palla and pulled it to her chest. The rigid set of her shoulders told him she didn’t welcome the company. “Will he be joining us tonight, Your Imperial Majesty?” she asked in a flat voice.
Titus balked at her question. If he was hoping to gain her trust, he’d run into another obstacle to overcome.
“No, I was just leaving,” Marcus answered for him. A wicked grin stretched his lips, and Titus knew he’d hear more about this later. “We’ll figure out what to do with the barrier in the morning. In the meantime, enjoy your evening.”
— —
When Azurha saw the man enter the room behind Titus, her heart jumped into her throat. The idea of being forced to pleasure his friend revived the feelings of pain and humiliation she suffered at the hands of her master. Would they tie her to columns while they tortured her? Tie her to the bed? She had grabbed her palla, prepared to snap their necks before allowing that.
Her pulse began to slow when the door closed behind the other man, leaving her and Titus alone. Her knees wobbled, and she sank into the cushions before she collapsed. Seven years had passed since the morning she gained her freedom, but the days leading up to it still haunted her.
“Is something wrong, Azurha?”
The rich timbre of his voice pulled her back to reality. All she needed to do was give him the goblet and make sure he drank the poison. When she lifted her eyes, the concern on his face tied her stomach in knots. “I thought you wanted to share me with your friend.”
He laughed at first, but when she didn’t join him, his expression sobered. “By the gods, you’re serious.”
She closed her eyes and turned away from him. How naïve was he? Did he not know what his nobles did outside the palace?
“How can that be possible?”
Both brows rose at his genuine puzzlement. He’d spent too much time studying his philosophy instead of visiting the brothels, it seemed. “It’s possible for one woman to pleasure up to three men at once, if she’s required to.”
He growled in response. “I would never allow that.”
“You are very different from some men, then.”
When he approached her with a look that said he wasn’t finished with this discussion, she backed away. “Were you forced to do things like that?”
She stared at the gold bracelets that concealed the scars on her wrists. “I was a slave, Titus. We cannot refuse our master’s whims.”
To his credit, he looked slightly nauseated. He sat next her with his hands in his lap. The warmth of his skin radiated through the linen to her thigh, and the scent of the sandalwood rose from him. Silence stretched between them, far wider than their physical distance.
His shock both surprised her and tugged at her heart. No, she couldn’t let her emotions get in the way tonight. She reached for the poisoned goblet. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my life as a slave. Would you like some wine?”
“Not yet,” he replied as he caught her wrist. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
Disgust filled his eyes, and her own stung. Yes, that’s right. Think of me as a common whore. Used goods. Sullied to the point where you never want to touch me again. It will make killing you that much easier.
Instead of shoving her to the floor and ordering her out of his presence, he flipped her hand over and delicately traced the lines on her palm. Then he covered her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I know you said you were bound to no one,” he said quietly, “but as long as you reside in my palace, I will never share you with another man.”
When he possessively squeezed her hand, a gasp broke free from her. Her mouth went dry. Could he possibly mean what he said? She swallowed and found her voice. “I am your concubine. No man is supposed to look at me without your permission.”
“And I guard my treasures jealously.” He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it.
A jolt of fire shot up her arm. How could he unnerve her so quickly from such a simple gesture? Deep inside, she found
the answer. He was the first person who actually seemed to give a damn about her. Not even Cassius had treated her like this. She had been a weapon he could train, not a treasure.
With his free hand, Titus stroked her cheek. “What you tell me only strengthens my resolve to free the slaves. No person should be forced to do things like that.”
He released her hand and reached for the goblet. Time seemed to stand still. Her pulse thudded in her ears. Common sense told her to sit back and let him drink the poison, but a new, raw emotion overpowered it. Fear raced down her spine, stiffening it vertebrae by vertebrae. If she didn’t kill him, she was as good as dead.
If she did, she’d forever wonder if she’d made a mistake.
As the goblet neared his lips, she lurched forward. Wine splattered over both of them, staining the white linen of their clothes a deep red, and the goblet landed on the tile floor with a clang. A shudder of relief ripped through her as the last of the poisoned wine dripped into the cracks. She’d stopped him.
Then she faced him, and her breath froze. His mouth hung open. Wine dripped from his jaw and his toga. If he had been her master, she would have received at least a slap to the face for her actions. She closed her eyes and braced for her punishment.
His warm, calloused hand covered hers. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so clumsy.”
“Open your eyes.” Lines creased his forehead when she did. “Why are you so terrified?”
Because I almost poisoned you. She licked her lips, unsure what to say. Her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.
His frown returned, and his fingers tightened around her hands. Did he know what she’d almost done? “Answer me.”
“I—” Her voice broke. She couldn’t tell him the truth—she’d be executed immediately.A rivulet of wine trickled between her breasts. “I’ve ruined your clothes and my new dress,” she finally managed to blurt out.