Consort

by Cyndi Friberg

“There are simply too many eyes and ears inside the palace for anything to be truly private.” Terez took her by the hand and lead her through the suite. “But don’t let that upset you. Everyone knows gossip is seldom reliable.”

  Cinarra thought the living room was luxurious until she saw the bedroom. The bed was low yet thickly padded and situated upon a rounded dais. Bed hangings of sheer gold had been drawn back in dramatic swags and the wall behind the bed had been sculpted to form the headboard.

  Terez motioned her onward. They passed through a lavish bathroom, complete with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and an oversized jetted tub. Their final stop was an extravagant dressing room, the likes of which Cinarra had never seen. A combination of shelves and racks lined three of the four walls, while a vanity with matching bench nestled against the far corner.

  “This is larger than any room in my house.”

  “It seems overdone now, but most ladies don’t wear a garment more than once. It will fill up fast.”

  “That seems so wasteful.” Cinarra glanced at Terez, afraid her outspokenness had offended the older woman.

  Terez’s serene expression didn’t change. Instead, she motioned toward Cinarra’s luggage, which had been placed near the adjacent door. None of the garments had been unpacked. Had there simply been insufficient time for the task, or had everyone presumed that none of her clothing would be appropriate for the situation.

  “Take a look at what the designers sent over,” Terez guided her attention to the neat row of garment bags hanging near the vanity. “Or if you have something specific in mind, I might be able to send a runner for it.”

  “I don’t think there will be a need for that.” She’d never put on airs for Indric in the past and she wouldn’t start now. She didn’t want to embarrass him, but she wouldn’t reinvent herself either. “My tastes are pretty straightforward.”

  Cinarra quickly realized that nothing in her life would remain “straightforward” if she decided to become a part of Indric’s world. He’d been a part of her life since she arrived on Bilarri, but she’d never really seen him in his natural environment. The designer gowns were far more extravagant than anything she’d ever worn before and the entire time she looked through the garments Terez rattled off the fundamentals of palace protocol.

  “People really wear things like this to dinner every night?” She held up an especially garish gown, decorated with an incomprehensible combination of blinding sequence and feathers.

  A soft chuckle escaped despite Terez’s obvious effort to hide her amusement. “D’ Savoy is an acquired taste.” She took the garment from Cinarra’s hand and returned it to the rack. “Clearly your tastes are more classical, more understated.” She checked the names on the garment bags until she found the one she wanted. “This might be more your thing.”

  The strapless bodice was a pale silvery blue while the slim skirt was several shades darker. Cinarra had no idea what the material was called, but it had a faint iridescent sheen. “It’s beautiful, but this is just a meal with an old friend.”

  “Your ‘old friend’s’ family has ruled this region for three millennia. Trust me. This dress is not too lavish for a meal with King Indric.”

  “All right. You understand how all this works. I’ll bow to your experience.” The comment had Terez beaming and Cinarra couldn’t help but smile.

  “If you’d like to take a shower, I’ll have the stylists set up in here.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  There was simply no reason to resist the extravagance. Cinarra returned to the bathroom, struck again by the opulence. Continuing the ivory-and-gold theme present in the other rooms, black accents had been added to give the bathroom a little more drama.

  Cinarra started to undress then realized she’d neglected to ask about undergarments. Terez was speaking with a dark-haired woman via holocom when Cinarra opened the door. The stranger motioned for Terez to turn around and Cinarra realized she must be in range of the transmitter.

  “How can I serve you?” Terez asked.

  The phrase made Cinarra cringe. Too embarrassed to ask in front of the stranger, she just said, “Never mind.”

  Terez paused the transmission and crossed the room. “I’m sorry. That was rude. What did you need?”

  “I forgot to grab my undergarments.”

  “There’s a dressing gown next to the shower and I’ll lay out everything else for you.”

  Cinarra took a deep breath and confessed, “I’m not used to people waiting on me. This feels really intrusive.”

  “I’ll do my best to minimize the intrusion, but King Indric wants you to feel pampered. He made it clear to everyone that you are special to him.”

  With a shaky nod, Cinarra retreated into the bathroom and closed the door. She was special to Indric? Joy and disbelief twisted around each other, making her feel giddy and confused. Why would he find her special? She was Charlotte’s sister and Betaul’s guardian, but she was no one special.

  Lost in the emotional muddle, she shed her clothes and stepped into the shower. There were no visible controls, so she tried a voice command. “Moderate spray, warm.” Expecting the multipurpose foam used by the vast majority of cleansing units, she gasped when actual water rained down upon her. Water? In the middle of the desert?

  She tilted her head back and smoothed her hair away from her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a real water shower. Feeling decadent and guilty, she nearly forgot to enjoy the extravagance.

  Her reflection greeted her as she stepped out of the shower enclosure. It had been nine years, why did these features still seem like someone else’s? Perhaps the transition might have been easier if the Mystic had looked anything like her, but she was so tiny, light and young. It always made Cinarra feel even more out of place and old.

  When she returned to the dressing room, she found a team of stylists waiting for her. So much for Terez minimizing the intrusion. But the stylists worked hard to put her at ease and make her feel at home. One went to work on her hair, another her makeup, while still others focused on her hands and feet.

  The hairdresser was particularly talkative, so much so that the makeup artist frequently rolled her eyes in response. Cinarra found it all a bit overwhelming but entertaining none the less.

  By the time they finished with her, Cinarra was relaxed and ready for the evening. The dress clung to her torso and supported her breasts, making her waist look even smaller. She turned this way and that, fascinated by the subtly changing colors in the skirt. The fabric skimmed her hips and thighs rather than displaying every dip and swell.

  “Are you pleased?” Terez asked hopefully.

  Cinarra could barely recognize the woman in the mirror, but she was undeniably beautiful. The makeup artist had skillfully accented her features rather than creating artificial drama. Her short hair had been left loose, but the messy waves were now perfect spirals.

  “Thank you,” she said to Terez and then turned to the others and added, “You all did a wonderful job.”

  They erupted into a chorus of happy cheers and clapping as Terez opened the door and motioned Cinarra out into the suite’s main room. A guard waited in the corridor and Terez told him to escort Cinarra to the children’s wing on the way to King Indric’s private dining room. The guard nodded but looked straight ahead, not daring to look at Cinarra directly. The staff would not speak unless spoken to and eye contact was only allowed once a conversation had been instigated. It was one of countless rules Terez had listed during the past two hours.

  Cinarra tried to keep track of where the children’s wing was in comparison to her quarters, but the palace was simply too large. One of Dravon’s mentors told Cinarra that the boys had already departed for the evening meal, so she was surprised to find Indric alone when she arrived at the dining room a few minutes later.

  He pushed back his chair and stood as she entered. “You look lovely,” he said as she was seated across from him.

  �
�Are we dining alone? I thought Betaul and Dravon would be here.”

  “If you require a chaperone, I can send for Terez.” His smile was nothing short of dazzling. He tended to dress in ivory and gold, and tonight was no exception. His tunic was long sleeved now, the front panels boldly embroidered in gold. He also wore several rings and a decorative dagger that she’d never seen before. His hair had been pulled back and bound at the nape of his neck, making the masculine angles of his face all the more striking. He always had a regal air about him, but tonight he looked like a king.

  “I’m not afraid of being alone with you.” As the words passed her lips, she realized that it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. “I was just hoping to see Betaul.”

  “I’ll take you to him after we’ve eaten or I can holocom their dining room if it will put your mind at ease.”

  “You never allow children in your private dining room?” It seemed odd. He’d always been so patient with Betaul. She’d thought Indric enjoyed children.

  “My father and grandfather often entertained visiting dignitaries while they dined, so it was necessary for their children to dine elsewhere. Tonight, I simply wanted you to myself.”

  His gaze drifted down to her mouth and heat blossomed across her cheeks, but she was saved from commenting by the first course. She tried to relax and enjoy the experience, but the continual flow of servers kept the conversation light and superficial. It was the same discussion they’d had countless times before. He asked about Betaul’s progress and she asked about his latest negotiations and the extensive renovations underway in the oldest section of the palace. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, so many things she wanted to say, but the subjects were too personal to broach with an audience.

  “Is the food not to your liking? You’ve hardly touched any of it.” He folded his napkin and placed it beside his plate.

  “It’s not a reflection on the skill of your chief. I’m just not very hungry.”

  After telling the head server to hold dessert, he pushed back from the table and stood. He crossed the room with long, sure strides, each movement emanating power. “Let’s go for a walk in the courtyard. It’s lovely at night.” The golden strands in his hair shimmered and his gaze moved over her face.

  He scooted her chair back and took her hand as they left the dining room. “Did Terez keep your staff in line? The result is stunning, but I wanted you to feel comfortable, not overwhelmed.”

  “Palace life is definitely different from what I’m used to, but Terez was a big help.” They reached the end of one corridor and started down another. Thick carpet runners cushioned their steps and staff members automatically stepped aside, allowing them to pass. Indric didn’t seem to notice the show of deference, but it made her feel odd. Had his accomplishments earned this sort of esteem or was it nothing more than an accident of birth?

  They entered a common area, much smaller than the lobby yet no less impressive. Myriad stars twinkled in a velvety sky visible through the transparent dome. Padded benches and chairs were arranged in artful groupings, but Indric led her to a communication kiosk built into one of the marble walls.

  He stepped in front of the transceiver and said, “Page Ametto.”

  After a short pause, Ametto’s image formed in front of them, one-fourth his actual size. “Is there a problem, Sire?”

  “Not at all. Cinarra would like to say good night to Betaul.” He stepped to the side and motioned her to his previous position.

  Ametto turned to his right and told Betaul to join him. The boy bounded into sight and grinned at Cinarra. “Dravon wasn’t lying, Mom. They have horses, honest to the gods horses. And they aren’t even cloned or anything.”

  Mom. Each time Betaul used the term it was a bittersweet reminder of all the secrets he had yet to learn. She hated lying to him, but admitting the truth, even to Betaul, increased the chances of discovery. “Did they let you ride one?”

  “Not yet, but I helped brush him and fed him a treat. The trainer said I could ride one tomorrow if it’s all right with you.”

  “How is your hand? Are you feeling especially tired?”

  “There is too much to do to be tired.” The boy laughed. “First thing in the morning we’re going swimming.” His green gaze shifted to Indric and he said, “Thank you for bringing us here. Your palace is so twisted.”

  Before Cinarra could say any more, Betaul darted out of range.

  “I’ll make sure he has a full night’s rest before I allow him near the pool,” Ametto assured her. “As for horseback riding, the trainer insists he has a mare so docile there will be no danger.”

  “Thank you, Ametto. You’re a blessing, as always.”

  He bowed to her and then the holocom blinked off.

  “Feel better?” A teasing quality came into Indric’s tone and he pressed his hand against the small of her back. “Your cub is well protected and enjoying himself. Now will you relax and do the same?”

  “I’m not much of a swimmer and horseback riding might be tricky in this dress.”

  “Clothes are always optional.” He chuckled and took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

  She didn’t sense a telepathic signal, but Indric’s guards backed off as he took her out into the courtyard. A balmy night wind caressed her skin, a light floral scent drifted in the air, and they were finally alone.

  “I can see this from my balcony.” She had so many things she wanted to say, she wasn’t even sure where to start.

  His warm hands settled on her bare shoulders and he shifted her half a turn to the right. “That’s your room.” He pointed to the balcony on the top floor, nestled in the corner of the open area. His other arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her back into the heat of his body. “And that,” he pointed to the next balcony over, “is mine.”

  Awareness enfolded her, awakening her senses and agitating her emotions. She could feel the press of his chest against her back and the weight of his arm against her middle. “Are the rooms connected?”

  “They are, but it shouldn’t worry you. I will never enter unless I’m invited.”

  Besides, someone who could teleport didn’t need a connecting door. His breath teased her skin half a second before his lips brushed her shoulder. Tingles spiraled down her arm and into her chest, drawing her nipples into tight peaks. She eased out of his embrace then turned to face him.

  “We should talk before this goes any further.”

  He tensed, obviously disappointed by her retreat, then nodded toward the stone bench farther down the path.

  She walked to the bench and sat, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs. They’d been alone together hundreds of times, but everything was different now. She felt anxious and restless, almost hyperaware of his slightest movement.

  He sat beside her and reached for her hand, but she moved it just out of reach. “I can’t think straight when you touch me.”

  “Good to know.” His smile was gentle and he made no other move to touch her. “You’ve had some time to process the shock, so tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Chapter Four

  Indric had promised himself he’d go slowly, give Cinarra plenty of time to adjust to the change in their relationship. There was so much pain and uncertainty in her past. The last thing he wanted was to frighten or pressure her. So why was the need to touch her so damn hard to control? He wanted her in his arms, sharing his breath as he learned her taste and texture.

  “You said it’s your intention to court me. I’m still not sure what that means. Do you want me in your life or just your bed?” She stared up at him, her gaze silvered by the moonlight, expressive, open yet cautious.

  “You’re already in my life and I definitely want you in my bed. Beyond that, I’m not sure what I want.” He chose his words carefully, determined to be as honest as possible. “As my mistress, you would have greater freedom and fewer responsibilities. A mistress is only expected to bring her king pleasure and keep
him company.” Pivoting on the bench, he searched her gaze, trying to judge her reaction to the options. “As soon as I made you my consort, everything would change. You would become part of the royal family, with all of the strictures and responsibilities that entails. I’m not sure I want that for either of us.”

  She licked her lips then looked at her hands, which were resting lightly on her lap. “What about children. Aren’t you expected to keep trying?”

  Pain and frustration tore through his chest. One of the primary responsibilities of any king was to produce an heir, to stabilize the region and prevent possible conflicts over a successor. As long as he remained childless, Eagin was a threat. And not just to Indric but to the entire region. If Eagin asserted his claim to the throne, it would force people to choose sides. Indric had confidence that the majority of San Adrin would back him, but every life was precious.

  Even so, he had to be realistic. “My childless state isn’t likely to change even if I did choose another consort. I need to explore other options.” He was glad she wasn’t looking at him. His voice sounded far more composed than he felt.

  “I won’t be your mistress if you decide to take a wife.” Their gazes locked and their surroundings dimmed. Had she just agreed to be his mistress? Desire washed over him with slow consuming heat. He fought it back, sensing that she had more to say. “My past is complicated, so I see the benefits of keeping this casual. Still, I won’t share you. I’m not wired that way.”

  Her boldness made him smile. Most women would accept whatever role he chose for them and feel honored to share his bed for even one night. Not Cinarra. She calmly stated her conditions as if this were a negotiation, not the start of a romance. “When and if I choose to take a consort, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She accepted the statement with a stiff nod, obviously not understanding his inference. She was the only woman he had any interest in as mistress, consort or queen.

  “All right.” Her gaze lowered again and she asked, “How does this work? Will you come to me or will I…”