Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set

by Danielle Summers

  “You are perfect,” the prince mused, reaching out to caress Charis from his shoulder to his thigh. Like some of the harem boys, Charis kept his body completely hairless, even between his legs. That smoothness seemed to excite Vidnar, who had very little hair himself but seemed to prefer even less on Charis. “I can hardly believe my good fortune in securing you for myself before one of my brothers did.”

  “I am the fortunate one, your highness,” Charis said in all sincerity.

  Vidnar finished splashing water over the two of them and hoisted himself out of the pool. “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Get out and come with me.”

  Charis followed him to the small table which held towels and robes. When he reached for one of the towels, Vidnar shook his head.

  “No, no, you must stay as you are. It’s part of the surprise.” While Charis stared without comprehending, Vidnar wiped the water off both of them and wrapped the towel around his own waist. Then he motioned for Charis, still naked, to follow him out into the corridor.

  Though they were given special robes for going out in public, walking around unclothed was, of course, no big deal within the harem compound itself. Indeed, Charis could look out of any doorway at pretty much any time of day or night and see the other boys in the same state, all of them entirely unashamed. Still, he blushed at parading himself past others without any covering, especially when they entered another room where a few men had gathered, apparently to await their arrival. He felt a self-conscious burn creep over his body when all of them looked him up and down with scarcely-disguised interest—perhaps even lust.

  Charis recognized one of the men as Lash, the royal tailor, who stood beside three well-dressed men he hadn’t seen before. Two grinned at Charis’ nudity and nudged and winked at each other. The third seemed to make it a point not to look. Off to one side of the room lay at least ten huge rolls of the most beautiful cloth Charis had ever seen.

  “Well?” Vidnar prompted. “What do you think, Charis?”

  “I confess I am at a loss, my prince. Are we here to have you fitted into a new garment?” Charis asked.

  Vidnar smiled and shook his head. “No. The garment is for you. These merchants have traveled halfway round the world to bring these fine fabrics to the palace. And you will have the first cut of the rolls.” He turned to Lash. “A gold-threaded tunic and a bright red cloak with a matching sash, perhaps. Those colors would set off his hair and eyes very well, don’t you think?”

  Lash’s face was taut, but he bowed respectfully. “Whatever you wish, your highness.”

  “What do you think, Charis?” Vidnar asked. “Would such garments please you?”

  Stunned, Charis tried to imagine himself swathed in red and gold. Without a doubt, they would look and feel magnificent on him. Yet either, never mind both, would far outclass anything that could be considered proper for one of his rank. A harem boy did not and could not dress like a prince.

  “I bow to your superior judgment, my prince,” he finally stammered. “But I am unworthy of such a gift.”

  “Nonsense. Tomorrow night the Matriarch plans to hold a banquet which I must attend. I would find it dreadfully boring except that you will be there to accompany me. Both of us will have to look our best.” Vidnar nodded to Lash. “You may begin.”

  The tailor motioned for Charis to step forward. When Charis did so, hesitantly, Lash pulled a white undertunic over Charis’ head and tugged it down over his hips. That was a relief, at least. The three cloth merchants continued to stare until Lash pointed to the two rolls of cloth he wished them to cut from. Then they scurried off to do his bidding.

  “You will enjoy the banquet,” Vidnar said, watching the procedure with his arms crossed and a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

  Charis found himself blushing again as lengths of string were held up to various parts of his body, marking off his measurements. “My apologies, your highness, but I fear I will not be welcome.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I worry I will overstep my bounds.” Nervously, Charis bit his lip. What Vidnar was proposing struck him as brash, even impudent. Harem boys usually attended banquets in their harem dress suits. How could he stride in looking like a member of the royal family? He would be lucky if the Matriarch did not have him arrested on the spot, or worse.

  “Nonsense,” Vidnar assured him. “You are not to give such matters another thought. You are my guest. The clothing is my gift to you.”

  Guest? Charis marveled at the use of the word. He wanted to remind Vidnar that he was a harem boy, a servant, and a concubine—nothing more. But talking back to the prince would certainly be a transgression, perhaps more so than the clothes would be. So he stood in silence and watched himself being fitted in a glorious tunic that would have looked ostentatious even on one of the prince’s many brothers. His pride in that moment, and his happiness at being loved by a man as perfect and generous as Prince Vidnar, convinced him to hold his tongue.

  Chapter Two

  Charis had never attended a private banquet in the royal dining room before, though he had heard some of the older harem boys describe such feasts. He saw now that they had not been exaggerating in the least. If anything, their descriptions fell short of the opulence spread in front of him.

  Twenty or so tables were arranged around the spacious room, the surfaces set low to the floor with cushions scattered around them for seating. At the front of the room, the Matriarch dined at a raised table piled high with delicacies and various bottles of wine. Around her sat her top adviser Lord Ezda, Prince Baboye and his consort Eyakan. All wore their finest ceremonial garments, and the Matriarch sported an enormous headdress made of precious stones. Charis stared at it for a long time, mesmerized by its glittering spikes that reached high into the air.

  On the other side of the room, a few lithe-limbed young men were dancing on a dais at the front of the room, barely covered in diaphanous scarves. Charis found himself embarrassed when he recognized them as his own fellow harem boys. The contrast between their mostly unclothed bodies and his own new and breathtakingly beautiful outfit, which covered all of him, struck him numb with anxiety. He knew well that he had overstepped his rightful place.

  He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either. As he and Vidnar entered the room, he heard whispers to his right and glanced over to see the three cloth merchants seated with Lash the tailor and two other men who looked like tradespeople. All of them were looking right at him, but Charis didn’t think they were admiring his outfit.

  He felt Vidnar’s hand on his arm, the graceful fingers soft and reassuring as they pressed into his shimmering gold sleeve. “This way,” he said, leading Charis to a table already piled high with sweet-smelling bread and cakes, along with pots of honey and flavored spreads. They settled themselves on the soft cushions surrounding the table, which remained otherwise unoccupied. Vidnar moved his pillow closer to Charis, so that they were touching. Having him so close made Charis feel safe and protected, especially when he became aware of even more stares drift toward him from all sides—and none of them friendly.

  He’d often heard the harem boys talk about the dark gold eyes of the royal family—it was one of the inherited physical traits they were known for. He had admired Vidnar’s beautiful molten gaze often, but now he saw that it was true. The Matriarch, Vidnar’s older brother, and a number of other unidentified people scattered around the room, who presumably shared their bloodline, also had the same unusual eye color. And most of them were glaring at Charis with ill-disguised outrage, maybe even hatred.

  Charis wished he hadn’t worn the garment to the banquet. But what could be do? Vidnar had given him the gift and invited him to attend. He was in no position to refuse. Surely the others realized that?

  Reading his tense expression, Vidnar scowled and shook his head. “Krask them. They can mind their own affairs. You are my guest tonight.”

  He pulled one of the dishes over to the edge of the table, sc
ooped up a piece of talphoux fruit baked in warm, fragrant bread, and dipped it in sweet burninga cream. Slowly, he stroked it over Charis’ lips before easing it between his teeth. Then, with his fingers still framing Charis’ mouth, Vidnar leaned forward for a kiss. Charis allowed himself to luxuriate in the intoxicating sensation their physical connection always brought and forget his problems just for a moment.

  When they broke apart, Charis knew that people were still staring at them, but he forced himself not to look up. Presently two other men approached their table and dropped onto some of the spare cushions. Charis didn’t recognize either of them, but Vidnar greeted them and began to chat, glibly turning away from Charis. From the conversation, Charis decided they were ministers or perhaps royal council members of some sort, though of minor rank. One was clearly a military commander, to judge by the wide sash and various military decorations he wore. He struck Charis as too old and doddering to be a current soldier. He assumed the man had been retired into some political position where his bodily infirmities would make no difference. The other fellow, a bit younger though by no means youthful, appeared to be his assistant or perhaps a sort of handler to keep him out of difficulties.

  The old man broke off from his banter with Vidnar in mid-sentence and peered curiously at Charis. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Not another prince? There are so many these days I can’t keep track. The Matriarch is a fertile sort, isn’t she?”

  Charis felt his cheeks flame. “N-no,” stammered, “I-I’m not…”

  To his relief, Vidnar cut him off before he could make a fool of himself. What he said next, though, filled Charis with horror. “This is my cousin, Lord Charis,” Vidnar said without hesitation. The younger man at the table looked as shocked as Charis felt. “He’s visiting us from the north. The city of Ithu.”

  “Ah, the north. I led a campaign there once. A cold, dreary place as I recall,” the old man mused. Soon he wandered off into a somewhat embarrassing story about the shortcomings of the brothels there. Meanwhile, his companion looked furious at Vidnar’s blatant lie—but not at Vidnar. Instead, he directed his silent wrath at Charis. Charis wished he could sink into the pillow he was seated on and disappear. How could the people at the dinner blame him for Vidnar’s ill-chosen words? But of course, they would say nothing to Vidnar. Why would they? He was the prince.

  No one but the old man spoke to Charis during the meal, though Vidnar turned to Charis several times and somewhat forcibly fed him other treats. At one point Vidnar rubbed his hand along Charis’ thigh, stopping just short of the tender spot between his legs. Charis knew Vidnar was teasing him, trying to get him excited for later. Charis was too nervous to enjoy it, though, and his appetite for the rich food had disappeared as well. Instead, he gazed across the room and watched his friends from the harem twist and turn in time to the gentle drumbeat that accompanied them. He wished he could have shed his fancy clothes and joined them. That way, he could escape both the old man’s unintelligible patter and the hostility that rose from the rest of the room like steam.

  At least the jugs at the table were filled to the brim with strong-smelling pagvee brandy, which proved both sweet to the taste and deadening to the senses. Vidnar kept Charis’ cup overflowing, and Charis drank all he was given, both to please the prince and keep himself busy. The brandy loosened the old man’s tongue even further, dredging up a variety of memories from his apparently adventurous past, and for a long time no one at the table needed to speak or even respond to him.

  After the last course of the painful meal had finally been consumed, the dance stopped as well and the harem dancers left the room, bowing to a smattering of applause and winking at a few shouted invitations to later pleasures. No doubt a number of tipsy courtiers would be visiting the harem later that night, Charis thought. Next, a minstrel with a delicate stringed instrument began to roam around the room, stopping briefly to serenade each table. The young man stopped at the royal table first and sang to the Matriarch until her minister, Lord Ezda, shooed him away.

  Half-rising from his cushion, Vidnar lifted a hand and signaled for the minstrel to come to their table. His scowl deepening, the younger of the two men sitting with them got up and took his older companion, still nattering on about his erstwhile military exploits, with him. Charis was glad they were gone, but his self-consciousness returned when the minstrel reached them and bowed to Vidnar.

  “Sing something beautiful to my guest,” Vidnar ordered. “Something about love, and longing, and the sweetness of shared passion.”

  “Yes, your highness.” The minstrel bowed again, more deeply this time, and then straightened up and sang the most charming song Charis had ever heard. While he listened, he forgot his discomfort and let himself get lost in Vidnar’s dreamy gaze, which was fully focused on Charis’ face. As the song went on, Vidnar’s eyes actually seemed to turn a darker gold.

  At the end of the song, Vidnar leaned forward and kissed Charis full on the mouth. Charis was vaguely conscious of the minstrel muttering something else and then scuttling abruptly away. When the kiss ended and he glanced up again, he saw that Prince Baboye himself stood over them, his hands folded across his chest and his mouth set in a grim line. His own eyes, so much like Vidnar’s, were flashing.

  “Mother wonders why you are seated back here, Vidnar,” he said, blatantly ignoring Charis. That, of course, suited Charis very well indeed. He had no intention of bearing the brunt of Baboye’s displeasure, along with everyone else’s. The tall, handsome crown prince wore his authority like a cloak, and it intimidated Charis along with most everyone else Baboye came in contact with…except, apparently, Vidnar.

  Vidnar shrugged and looked away from his brother. “I can speak to mother anytime I please. Tonight, I wanted to be alone with Charis.”

  “I can see that.” Baboye’s tone spoke more clearly than words ever could. He clearly found Vidnar’s display of affection toward a harem boy, whom he had dressed up as a girl might dress a favorite doll and carry it around, utterly distasteful. At least he, unlike everyone else present, did not direct his anger at Charis alone. “Nevertheless, you have duties as a member of the royal family, and you must observe the proper decorum. Mother says you should come to the table and present yourself. Alone.”

  “I will not. I am enjoying myself right here and do not wish to get up at the moment.” Vidnar’s cheeks flushed. With an abrupt motion, he tilted his head back and downed the last of his pagvee berry brandy. He motioned for Charis to do the same, though Charis drank more slowly. He was not used to the drink’s effects, and his motions were not as coordinated as would have liked. Throughout the embarrassing interlude, Baboye continued to glare at them. “In fact, I think it’s time we left,” Vidnar continued when he had finished his brandy. “I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. I think the brandy was too strong. Good night, my brother. Give the Matriarch my most cordial regards.”

  Staggering a little, he heaved himself to his feet and reached over to pull Charis up by the hand. Together they made their way through the banquet room while people at every table they passed stared at them. A few even whispered comments to one another. Most of all, Charis could feel Baboye’s angry gaze on his back, burning a hole through his sparkling new clothes. He had not escaped the crown prince’s fury after all.

  Back at Vidnar’s favorite chamber in the harem, the two stripped down and got onto the large bed, now adorned with fragrant fresh sheets. Charis had thought at the beginning of the evening that he would hate to remove his ornate new outfit, but after his ordeal at the banquet he found himself happy to be rid of it for a while. Besides, feeling his bare skin slide against Vidnar’s more than made up for the loss of the sleek, rich fabric’s caress.

  “You seem unhappy,” Vidnar noticed, scrutinizing Charis’ expression. Charis was surprised and flattered that the prince took any notice of his moods. That was entirely backward—he was supposed to make sure the prince was happy and entertained at all times, not the other way
around.

  “I’m sorry, your highness. It’s just that…well…I am worried that your family, as well as the rest of the royal court, hates me.”

  Vidnar could not deny it, but he made a growling sound to indicate his disapproval. “They are caught up in illusions of their own importance,” he snapped, “my brother most of all. I am not like that. I believe in equality between men—between lovers, especially.”

  Charis gasped. “Equality, prince?” he repeated. The very idea stunned him.

  “Yes. I am a prince, true, but I attained my rank through an accident of birth and not any particular accomplishment on my part. Why should I have more rights than anyone else? Why is it my right to wear finer clothing than men who possess qualities and talents far greater than my own?” He gestured toward their bare bodies and ground his torso closer against Charis’. “We look much the same now, do we not? Is this not what all men look like in their most basic state? The rest is merely trapping—false adornments to convince people we are what we truly are not.”

  Charis couldn’t help laughing as Vidnar began to tickle him. His giggles intensified and turned to gasps of need when Vidnar reached lower and lightly stroked his cock.

  “If-if you say so, your highness,” he managed to say when he caught his breath for a moment.

  Vidnar kissed the bridge of Charis’ nose as the tugs on his cock grew more insistent. “I assure you that you do not need to worry. My family will come to accept you. I will make them understand that we are meant to be as one. Our lives will be entwined forever. The sooner they realize that, the better for them.”