by J. C. Owens
He frowned, leaning back in his chair. Raine had been the only one he had been remotely attracted to.
Taldan forced himself back to his task. No doubt, whoever he chose, they would grow to know each other and sex would be part of that alliance. If it was not passionate, well then, he had the harem and Hredeen.
This shouldn’t be this complex. This was not a matter of love, which he knew little about. This should be a simple equation. So why did it feel like a problem where he couldn’t make the slightest mistake?
Raine
Raine and Isnay spent the next day signing Raine up for classes. It was everything Raine had dreamed of, a freedom and acknowledgement that his intelligence had purpose.
Why did it feel so wrong then?
By the end of the day, he was drooping with exhaustion and feeling completely out of sorts.
Isnay, with his usual empathic insight, noticed swiftly, and although he left Raine alone enough to sort out his thoughts, it was evident he was becoming concerned.
Finally, he steered the younger man to a small tavern located on the edge of the college grounds and bought them both supper.
“All right. What’s wrong? I thought you would be ecstatic over this whole thing.”
Raine wouldn’t meet his gaze, and even the food didn’t seem to tempt him.
“I don’t know.” He gave a choked laugh. “This is like a dream, and I’m half convinced I will simply wake and never have been here at all. I want this so badly, and yet now, it suddenly feels like this is not what I’m supposed to be doing, as though I am taking a path that is completely at odds with where I should be.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand myself.”
Isnay leaned forward and laid a gentle hand upon Raine’s. “I think you had more invested in the Choosing than you truly realized. Once you met the imperial prince face to face, I believe he embodied everything you had ever dreamed of. Not his title, not his power, but him.”
Raine flushed, remembering his response to the prince’s question and the distracting image that had flashed into his mind, heating his blood. He could not imagine the wonder of being able to touch his hero, to be the one privileged enough to stand beside him as bondmate, to witness the progression of his insights and the wonders he would create, the changes he would make.
The world had only just begun to see the results of that intellect. Whoever was chosen would be part of the inner circle that would know the details. He hoped that whoever was finally chosen would be fully cognizant of the honor that they had received.
“It’s pure foolishness,” he muttered, stabbing at his food with a fair amount of venom. “I knew I would never be offered the chance. I wanted to get past it so that I could have exactly what I have been offered today. Instead, I’m acting like a petulant child, wanting only what I cannot have, and not the amazing opportunity I have been handed.”
“Perhaps you let yourself feel more for the prince than you realized.” Isnay’s tone was achingly gentle.
Raine grimaced. “Could I be that ridiculous?” He raked an impatient hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Of course I could. According to my brother, I barely have the intelligence to breathe.”
Isnay tapped him on the cheek firmly, making his eyes fly open. “And you would believe the vicious words of a man who cannot manage others without violence? Look at the source of those comments, Raine, and then decide whether you are going to accept them, or cast them aside like the lies they are.”
Raine managed a weak smile and managed to begin eating properly. “Gods, where were you all these years? If I had had one person telling me things like this, maybe I would have had the courage and determination to escape long ago…”
Soon they returned to the palace, and the afternoon wore on. Raine would have been just as happy to not have to attend the formal announcement of the final Choosing. His presence seemed a foolish formality, and he had to admit that he didn’t wish to see who had the good fortune of remaining at the imperial prince’s side.
He was somewhat ashamed of his own bitter musings. He thought he had made peace with the fact that he would not be chosen. It had been a positive event, after all, allowing him to attend classes and remain in the capital city. For all he knew, the prince would have banned such participation once the bond was formalized. There was so little information given to the public of what the bond even meant, or how it was achieved. It held all the mystique of a fantasy or fairy tale.
He was not suitable, and it came down to that fact. He had nothing to give to the empire, and the imperial prince was the empire, now and in the future. That’s why he’d asked to have his name withdrawn.
If anything, he should be content that he had made it to the final six.
His brother would never believe that he had not used his body to secure that far.
His lips thinned. Soon, there would be word sent back from Odenar by the royal diplomats the empire had sent, and it remained to be seen if there was merely a discovery of laws being ignored, or if something far, far worse had been uncovered, something that could see Parsul and his thirst for power, come into direct conflict with Anrodnes and the current emperor himself, a man not known for the slightest hint of compassion or mercy.
Raine shivered. He’d hoped to fade from people’s attentions swiftly. The axe that could fall upon his brother could easily be wielded for his entire family. He prayed that his brothers would abandon their plans now that Raine would not be the emperor’s companion. Anything else would be madness. His brothers could find themselves in dangerous, perhaps fatal waters. And how could he explain that he had known about their schemes before they’d left Odenar?
At the head of the room, on an ornate raised dais, sat the Imperial Throne, the solid gold representation of the empire’s power and wealth. Finely crafted, with filigree edges and mosaics of precious stones, it sat empty, but that emptiness rang with a degree of power that almost took Raine’s breath away, like the essence of the emperors that had rightfully claimed it down through time still had the ability to intimidate, to bring about an immediate submission.
To the right, and one step down in height, was the black throne of the Imperial Princes. Carved from pure basalt, polished to a mirror smoothness, there was no decoration upon it. Stark and cold, it seemed as frightening, if not more so, then the emperor’s throne. After all, it was the princes who had often committed atrocities in their fathers’ names. They were the ones who had won battles and overrun countries. They were the right arm of the emperor.
Imperial Prince Taldan sat with perfect ease upon the storied throne, clearly comfortable with the weight of all that his ancestors had done to bring about the greatness of the current day Anrodnes. Dressed in finely fitted clothing as black as the throne itself, he seemed more myth than man, a worthy successor.
His Imperial Highness nodded, face completely expressionless, smooth and perfect as the mask his father wore.
His companion, Lord Naral, stepped forward. “At the end of the ceremonial process of the Choosing, His Imperial Highness has made a final decision on the matter of his bondmate. The chosen candidate is Antan Gertem, the noted and much-respected artist from the territory of Carlenvae.”
Raine watched the reactions of his fellow candidates. Prince Rees, Malar Ostan, and Laen Parlant looked disappointed but seemed pleased for Antan, immediately beginning to clap along with the assembled courtiers. The mage Valsen Maltes on the other hand, looked truly murderous for a split second before the rage morphed into something hidden, a false smile plastered over his features as he joined the applause.
Raine shivered, tearing his gaze away from the mage. The sensations he felt fairly pulsing from Valsen made his head ache. He clapped, trying to push his own jumbled feelings aside, glancing at Antan in expectation of the man being both surprised and pleased.
Instead, the artist looked like he was going to faint, and nothing in his expression pointed to pleasure. Shock, yes, aligned with fear and despai
r before he lowered his eyes and mastered himself, turning to bow to the imperial prince. Prince Taldan nodded back to him in complete frosty silence.
Raine felt a surge of sympathy. He realized now that whatever warmth and passion Raine had wished for, dreamed of, could never happen with the prince. The man was the empire. All anyone else could ever be to him was a pale shadow of that fact.
For the first time, Raine truly knew that he had escaped something he could not have endured. To be so close, yet never allowed in to the man’s heart, would be torture of a variety that he had never envisioned until this moment.
Watching Antan’s bent head, he could feel no jealousy, only a sort of sad realization. He could sense how this man who had been chosen held no wish for the position. It was evident that he had been forced here, even as Raine had.
Without the lure of knowledge and his fantasy of the prince as a mentor, Raine would have felt exactly the same way. Now it was painfully clear. He had made the right choice by removing himself from the Choosing.
Raine dropped his eyes, unable to watch any further. That could have been him.
The applause now seemed more a mockery than any degree of celebration.
Silently, he slipped away from Isnay’s side while the diplomat was engrossed in the proceedings and left the hall that was suddenly far too stifling and crowded.
He may have gained his freedom, but another had lost his.
* * *
Hredeen
Hredeen navigated the crowded revelry of the hallways with a calm dispassion that cleared the way for him. People moved aside without truly even recognizing that he was there, and he slipped through their ranks with an almost ghostly feel to his passage, so that several shivered without even knowing why.
Once within the private corridors, he walked alone, only the guards watching with silent appraisal as he approached the private rooms of the Imperial heir.
Two Shadows stood guard. Hredeen was not sure if they were Nie and Weis. If so, they were tireless, in the manner of their kind, as though human frailties held no sway over them. Exhaustion, hunger seemed no impediment to them. Time and again, Hredeen had seen them accompany the emperor from place to place within the walls of the palace, so alike in form and size that it was near impossible to tell them apart.
Perhaps that was how they were chosen, purportedly as children of six years, to begin a training that was so brutal, so intensive and secret, that no child ever returned from the cold fortress high in the Montaige Mountains. Whispers and rumors held that any who did not complete the training died there, buried in the deep glacier that bordered its western wall. The truth had never been revealed in the two thousand years of their existence, and even the manner of their vow of protection of the emperor, the where and how of its creation, remained a complete mystery.
It was enough that they existed, and that they protected the long line of emperors who had sat upon the golden throne of Anrodnes. The royal family saw them as part of their heritage. Beyond the inner chambers of the palace, people were terrified of them, often making signs of the gods to ward themselves as the shrouded warriors walked by. Hredeen, strangely enough, had never felt any fear of them. He understood them utterly. Perhaps his impressive empathy, so powerful, enabled him to detect their intent, and he had never felt in the least threatened by them. Respect, certainly, but not fear.
In their turn, they seemed to regard him with a quiet respect as well, often touching their foreheads as he passed them. He always returned the gesture with a nod, as between two beings that knew their own worth and strength and had no reason to prove it.
One of the Shadows opened the door to the heir’s apartment with a slight bow. Hredeen smiled at him as he passed, the door closing with exquisite silence behind him.
It was painfully silent within the rooms, as it often was. Within his own private sanctum, Prince Taldan wanted no noise, no people, no indication of what he had to deal with beyond these walls.
Hredeen felt a familiar sadness wash over him. Taldan was an enigma. It had always bothered Hredeen that the heir had been so completely molded into what was needed as emperor, leaving bits of himself stuffed down into hiding.
If he had been born to another, he would have been the sort to quietly tend to himself, alone and perfectly content with it. A scholar alone with his experiments and ideas. Crafting amazing things, helping others, but at a comfortable distance.
Instead, he was trapped into a role that did not suit him in the least. Hredeen knew there was far more to Taldan than most people would ever realize, that he had inherited far more emotion and empathy from his mother than he would be comfortable admitting. His training, so cold and soulless, could never quite eradicate his emotions, could not make him into a replica of Demarin.
He worried for Taldan when he ascended to the throne.
He shook his head. Perhaps Taldan’s father had been similar and the years had created the perfect emperor behind the mask. The soul sucked away to become something perfect, to become mere dispassionate logic with none of the trappings of humanity to hamper decisions.
Hredeen shivered and pulled the wool wrap around his shoulders closer.
Thoughts of Taldan having the same dead eyes as the emperor were horrific.
He passed silently through the outer room to where the imperial prince had his private library along with a small, closed-off area where he could do experiments.
It was always a welcoming place, warm and incredibly beautiful, the walls lined with books, the warm tones of the ornate antique wood shelves a welcome relief from the sometimes stark beauty of the rest of the palace.
The floor-to-ceiling window in the corner was draped with a thick dark green curtain, usually mostly pulled shut to keep out the damaging light.
Lit by sconces, the area had a soft golden glow to it, and Hredeen could see why Taldan gravitated to this place where he could just be, where the pressures beyond the doors could not follow.
Sure enough, Taldan sat immersed in a book, comfortable upon one of the thickly cushioned couches that were scattered on the edges of the vast room.
Hredeen watched with fondness that soon morphed into concern. Taldan’s fingers were white upon the spine of the book, and he reached up to rub his brow as though it pained him.
Hredeen turned with silent grace and retreated back to the entrance, where he quietly asked one of the Shadows to send someone for food.
The man nodded, a gleam of approval in his dark eyes.
The concubine stifled a snort. It was completely obvious that words had been already exchanged, concern shown by the two Shadows. Taldan, as usual, would have brushed it aside.
However, Hredeen had persuasions at his disposal that the Shadows did not.
This time, Taldan looked up as he entered the library, blinking as though coming back from somewhere deep in his thoughts. His cold eyes warmed, as they always did in Hredeen’s presence, their link as powerful and evident as it had been the first day that Hredeen had been picked from a large group of potential concubines.
Hredeen felt a smile curve his lips as he gently pried the book out of the prince’s hand before straddling him, sinking down to savor the heat of his lap. He reached out and traced high cheekbones, tsking at the shadows beneath those pale blue eyes.
“You didn’t sleep, did you? And I can bet confidently on the fact you haven’t eaten today. At all.”
Weary eyes met his. A reluctant nod confirmed his suspicions.
“I’ve sent for food, and you will damn well eat it.” He put a finger over Taldan’s lips to silence the immediate protest. “No complaining.”
Those beautiful eyes regarded him in silence for a moment, and then the prince wrapped long arms around him, laying his head against Hredeen’s chest. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” The murmur was so soft that it could barely be heard.
Hredeen froze in surprise. He had never heard Taldan sound so unsure or give such an unabashedly emotional stat
ement. Warmth flooded his very being, and he wrapped gentle arms around the silver head, cradling him as the precious thing he was.
“You’ll never have to know,” he assured the prince. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I won’t allow him to change anything between us.” Taldan’s tone held grim determination. The fact he had mentioned this several times already pointed to it being a true, lingering concern.
More telling was the use of “us.” Not the harem but “us.” Hredeen had to bite his lip against the tide of emotion that swelled over him.
He knew he was a fool to feel this way for the imperial heir given his status. Such feelings could have no place in his life. The contract he had signed as a concubine ensured that for ten years he was available for all members of the imperial family, or anyone else given the honor of entering the harem.
He was not allowed to become emotionally linked with any of them.
He stroked over Taldan’s silver hair and laid a kiss upon it, butterfly soft.
“Your Chosen is not a threat, my prince. Don’t shut him out because you think he might be. You need to know him first. He is more than just a tool for your using. If he is to become one of us, then we have to treat him that way, as a friend, not an intruder.”
Taldan was silent, still, obviously listening, but making no comment.
There was a soft knock, and the outer door opened. They could hear servants arranging the food upon the table, then the door closing once more.
“Come.” Hredeen rose to his feet, viewing Taldan’s disappointed glare with amusement. “You will eat. Then I will give you a massage, and you can tell me about Antan.”
* * *
Raine
Raine had cleaned Isnay’s rooms to within an inch of their life, nervous energy eating at him, so that he felt like he was going to come out of his own skin.
Something was happening, something somewhere that was going to impact him. He had always been able to detect trouble coming his way, perhaps part of his survival instincts that had kept him alive down through the years.