The Prince's Harem Box Set: The Prince's Harem Books 1-5

by Carly Roberts

  I hesitated, my feet wanting to turn from the gates and flee. But I had come all this way, and if the Prince would not help me, who would I turn to then?

  Gathering my courage, I walked up to the guard at the door.

  *

  Three years ago

  There were so many people in the courtyard that I couldn’t see a thing.

  I jumped up and down, trying to get a view over the top of the heads in front of me, but it was useless, especially as I barely reached their shoulders.

  “Would you like a box?” The man standing next to me grinned.

  “Fuck off.” Leaving the bag of supplies I had just bought in the town on the ground, I turned to the statue behind me. Lithe and supple, I pulled myself up easily.

  “I am used to your ways—Qarshi is not,” Bashir stated mildly. “Tone it down a little, in public anyway.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. Gone were the days when I received the back of my father’s hand if I displeased him. I’d left home and made my own way in the world, and I’d decided long ago that I would never answer to a man again.

  I took heed of his warning, though. Bashir was the unofficial leader of our group of entertainers, and although I did not answer to him as such, he’d made me the leader of the dancers in our troupe, so I owed him a little respect.

  He rested a hand on me as I wobbled on the statue. His hand then slid down to my bottom, and his fingers squeezed. I moved out of his reach without looking at him, and saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye.

  We had not slept together for six months, and I knew he wanted me in his bed again. I couldn’t say I wasn’t tempted—I liked sex, and half a year alone with only my hand to provide entertainment had soon lost its appeal.

  But Bashir bored me. He was dull and predictable in bed, and he had started to act as if he owned me, which I disliked intensely. I belonged to no man, and I had no intention of doing so anytime soon either.

  None of the other men in the troupe interested me. I was ready for a new challenge. Arriving at Qarshi after weeks traveling across the desert had filled me with hope that maybe here in the busy city I’d find something to excite me.

  I’d grown even more hopeful when I discovered that the Prince of Samarkand was visiting the city with his entourage. There would be many knights, ambassadors, and dignitaries in the Palace. Bashir had made our presence known to the steward, and to our delight the steward had requested we attend the feast that evening to provide entertainment for the guests. If I wasn’t sharing some handsome guard’s bed that night, I would eat my velvet hat and all the fake gemstones on it!

  Clinging hold of the marble statue’s arm, I craned my neck to look into the distance.

  “He’s coming!” I leaned forward at the sight of the small party walking along the pathway toward the crowd. The Prince stood out against the others like a beacon. Tall and broad-shouldered, with thick dark hair and a neat beard and mustache, he wore the most gorgeous tunic I had ever seen—a stunning lapis lazuli blue, the bottom of the sleeves and the neckline stitched with a sparkling light blue and gold brocade that must have included hundreds of gemstones—and these ones would not be fake. Underneath it he wore light blue loose trousers and exquisite blue slippers I would have killed for.

  “Oh,” I groaned. “He is so handsome.” Now there was a real man. I would have paid to share his bed.

  The small party approached the waiting crowd. The Prince smiled as everyone cheered, and he laughed when a father lifted his tiny girl so she could throw a handful of rose petals over him. Turning to look at her, the Prince waved, then glanced across the crowd.

  Lovers’ eyes meeting across a crowded room… Our bard had sung of it often in his stories, but I had always thought it to be nonsense, a product of an overactive imagination. Yet in spite of the large number of people present, the noise, and the commotion, our gazes met and locked.

  His eyes burned into mine, hot and intense, and all the breath left my body in a whoosh. My lips parted, and I clutched hold of the statue as my head spun.

  Still staring at me, the Prince backed away as the party moved on—and walked straight into the wall.

  I clapped my hand to my mouth as he met the marble hard enough to make him stumble. Immediately, his followers closed around him, dusting down his tunic and querying if he was all right.

  Trying not to laugh, the Prince shook them off, confirmed he was fine, and gestured for the party to continue. He followed them, but gave a final glance over his shoulder at me, his eyes filled with amusement.

  I blew him a kiss. He rolled his eyes before he disappeared around the corner.

  Beneath me, Bashir looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  I shrugged nonchalantly, although my heart pounded. “Clearly my beauty stuns commoners and princes alike.”

  Jealousy shimmered in his eyes. “Come on. We need to get ready for tonight.”

  I jumped down from the statue, picked up the bag, and followed him back through the city, but all the way my mind raced at the memory of what had just happened.

  Why had the Prince stared at me like that? I would never have said I was beautiful enough to turn heads. I had been called pretty in my time, although a lover had once told me my eyes were “too sleazy for beauty”. As soon as the words had left his mouth, I had risen out of bed, dressed, and walked out. I didn’t care if men thought I acted like a whore, but I didn’t like to be called one to my face.

  I was different, I knew that. In the land in which I lived, women veiled their faces and walked with downcast eyes. They covered their bodies and were deferential in public. They submitted to their men in bed and did as they were told. They were gentle and polite, and they did not swear.

  I wasn’t any of those things. I might not always answer a man back to his face, but he would only ever get to mistreat me once. I refused to be told what to do, and I relished my independence. I liked sex, and I wasn’t afraid to tell a man what I enjoyed in bed.

  Surely the Prince would detest a woman like that? Or would he? Maybe he was surrounded by polite and deferential women all the time, and he longed for something a little…spicier in the bedroom. If so, I wondered how he had been able to see what I was like from across the courtyard.

  Would he be at the feast that evening? Would I be able to get near him? And would he remember me?

  We neared the city walls and slipped out through the gates, crossing the busy road to the camp we had set up beyond. As we neared the untidy jumble of well-mended tents, my euphoria faded. I may have caught the Prince’s eye, but I was only one step farther up the social ladder than a destitute soul beginning for money in the street. The Prince was used to dealing with royalty and the elegant daughters of rich men. There would be no place in his Palace for rebellious dancers who cursed more than the average horse-thief.

  So I put him out of my mind, and for the next few hours I worked on my outfit and makeup, then spent a while exercising to ensure I was fit and limber for the performance that evening.

  By the time the sun had set and we made our way to the Qarshi Palace, I’d convinced myself that the moment in the courtyard was a figment of my imagination, and I should start wearing a bigger hat when we traveled to protect myself from sunstroke.

  When we presented ourselves at the doors, the steward came to fetch us and took us into the Palace. He led us through corridors with marble floors and walls glazed with glittering tiles to an antechamber off the main hall.

  Nerves made butterflies danced around in my belly as I waited for the call to perform. It confused me—I was never nervous, and I normally thrived on the excitement of acting in front of a crowd.

  I refused to accept that it was the possible presence of the Prince that provided the butterflies.

  We hovered near the door to the main hall and peered through. The hundreds of guests sat on chairs or lay on sofas around small tables filled with food—everything from roasted meat to bowls of pomegranates and peaches to
sweet pastries filled with figs and dates. The air smelled of spices—cinnamon and nutmeg, as well as smoke from the hookah pipes that many of the men were smoking, filled with crushed herbs that were known to give a pleasurable high.

  I saw him immediately. Sitting to one side, the Prince lounged on a sofa, propped on an elbow, attempting to look interested as the man on his right leaned forward and spoke intently about something which I could see held little interest for the Prince.

  “He looks bored, doesn’t he?” The female slave who had served our wine stood by me at the door, looking out at the guests.

  “Who?” I asked innocently.

  She sent me a wry look. “He draws the eye of every women in the Palace. He is so handsome.” She studied him longingly.

  “Have you served him?” I wanted to know more of this mysterious man. “What is he like?”

  “I haven’t had the fortune yet.” She leaned close conspiratorially. “He is said to be insatiable, fierce as a lion, full of passion.”

  “He fucks well then?” I asked with interest, earning myself a shocked look, followed by an amused smile.

  “Very well, apparently. His slave warned one of our girls that the Prince’s requirements could be many and varied in the bedchamber.” She looked as if she didn’t know whether to be alarmed or excited by that information.

  I knew which I was. So the Prince liked a little mischief in his sex? My mouth watered. “What did the girl say afterward?”

  “Well that is the strange thing—he talked to her for a while and then sent her away, so we never found out where his desires lay.”

  Apparently he was thoughtful enough to enquire whether his partners were willing to share in his proclivities before he took them to bed. I appreciated that in a man.

  I glanced out once more. The Prince was hiding a yawn. Perhaps he would excuse himself soon and retire to his room. I hoped he would stay until I’d had a chance to perform.

  His gaze strayed to a slave as she walked past him with a plate of cakes. He studied her breasts as she bent to place the plate on the table, then watched her walk away, tipping his head to observe the swing of her hips. The hunger in his lazy gaze was obvious—this man was made for sex, and his eyes announced that he had every intention of indulging his desires that night.

  At that moment, I knew I had to have him.

  The steward had left us with jugs of wine, and I hastily drank a glass, hoping it would provide me with courage.

  Inside the hall, someone called for attention and announced the arrival of the traveling troupe of entertainers. The door opened, and the two acrobats beside me threw themselves into a series of tumbles along the floor into the hall.

  Taking a deep breath, I followed.

  Chapter Two

  The Prince recognized me immediately. I saw it in the widening of his eyes, and the way his jaw dropped for a few seconds before he gathered his wits. One arm resting on the back of the sofa, he stroked his lips with a finger and watched me, his intense gaze heating me from the inside out as if I’d drunk a whole bottle of the best wine in the Palace.

  That evening, I danced only for him. I had no idea whether it was obvious, or what anyone else in the troupe thought—neither did I care. It didn’t matter to me that Bashir cast me angry glares at what he obviously thought was a stupid fascination, as if he thought it akin to spying a glittering necklace in a shop and believing that if you stared at it hard enough, it would somehow make its way into your pocket.

  All I could think about was the man who watched me, and how much I wanted him.

  The troupe performed well that night, as if they had somehow picked up on my need to impress, and tried extra hard. The musicians played like angels, the actors forgot none of their lines, and the other dancers kept perfectly in time with me.

  And I danced oh, so beautifully. I wasn’t foolish enough to think myself the prettiest of our girls. I was a little on the short side, and as had been pointed out—even though at the time I didn’t want to accept it—my features were too sleazy for beauty. My eyelids were permanently at half-mast, and my lips were full and remained rosy red as if they’d been heavily kissed even without makeup. My breasts were a tad too large for my height, but a narrow waist and a tight bottom gave me a curvaceous figure that men liked to run their hands down, and I knew how to move to keep a man’s eye fixed on me.

  Luckily, it worked. The Prince had eyes for no other that evening. He watched our play, and then sat entranced as the other dancers and I wove amongst the guests, our diaphanous gowns revealing more than they hid as we turned and swayed.

  Eventually, though, the performance came to an end. We bowed and received the cheers and claps from our audience with pleasure, then withdrew to the antechamber where the steward had laid out a fine feast with wine and ale as a reward.

  Everyone sat at the table and began to eat, drink, and talk, in many cases all at once. The noise made my head ache. I’d hoped that maybe the Prince would send for me, but nobody appeared at the door.

  I took a glass of wine to the window and looked out across the courtyard. The desert night was cold, the sky clear and full of glittering stars. Not far outside the city walls lay our tents and my bed. The mattress was in desperate need of new straw, and the blankets were thin and did little to keep me warm at night. I longed for the comfort of a proper mattress, to pull thick embroidered coverlets around me, and to snuggle up to someone for warmth.

  I frowned. Just outside the room, a colonnade ran the length of the building, large pillars supporting a covered walkway. Directly opposite the door to the chamber, a darker shape stood within the shadow cast by the pillar.

  My heart shuddered to a stop. Placing my glass on the table, trying not to draw attention to myself, I slipped out of the room and walked across to the pillar.

  A man stood there, arms folded, watching me. I didn’t know him, but I did recognize the livery of the Samarkand Prince, and I inhaled sharply.

  “Good evening,” he said as I walked up.

  “Good evening.” I wrapped my arms around my waist and shivered, although I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or excitement.

  “I did not mean to interrupt your celebrations,” he said. “I was supposed to wait until you left the Palace for the night, but I didn’t want to miss you.”

  I shrugged, flattered that he had been willing to lie in wait until I happened to leave. “I have no wish to stay any longer if there is a more exciting proposition to hand.”

  A smile spread across his face. “The Prince has requested your presence in his chamber, if you are willing.”

  I felt slightly faint, but opted for humor. “He wishes to play chess?”

  The man chuckled. “I am sure he will explain his requests for the evening’s entertainment in more detail when you meet him.”

  I moved a bit closer to him. Ordinarily, had I seen this man in the audience, I would have made a beeline for him. Young like the Prince, he was tall and muscular, with dark hair and kind eyes. “What’s your name?” I whispered, looking up at him.

  “Malik.” His gaze held heat, but he made no move to touch me.

  “Are you part of the entertainment?”

  His lips curved again. “Perhaps.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed as a thrill went through me.

  He tipped his head to the side. “If that bothers you, perhaps I should look for another companion for the Prince.”

  “It doesn’t bother me.” I felt breathless with excitement. “Two for the price of one! I’m the luckiest girl in the Palace.”

  He laughed, and his eyes lit with admiration. “He is going to like you.” Gesturing to the antechamber, he added, “Do you have any belongings there?”

  “My bag, but I don’t need it. There isn’t anything valuable in there anyway.”

  “I’ll send someone to collect it.” He backed away, beckoning me to follow him. “Come.”

  Breathless with excitement, I followed him along the colonnade.
The Palace was busy tonight, filled with dignitaries and their staff. A few people were taking a walk through the gardens. Music and smoke filtered through the windows, along with the sound of laughter.

  A couple walked toward us, holding hands and whispering—he was quite a bit older than her, so I had a feeling she wasn’t his wife.

  Malik stepped to one side and kept his gaze on the floor as they passed without even looking at him.

  “You are the Prince’s slave?” I queried as we continued, guessing from his demeanor.

  “Yes.”

  Two guards stood outside the private apartments, and they opened the doors as we approached. Malik gestured for me to precede him, and we continued down the corridor.

  “The Prince shares his women with you?” I asked, curious.

  “Sometimes. You are very direct.” He sounded amused rather than insulted.

  “It interests me.” I looked around as we walked. I had never seen such clean floors. The marble shone like starlight. “He must care for you very much.”

  Malik gave me a wry smile. “This is going to be very interesting.”

  I opened my mouth to ask him why, but we were approaching another door with more guards, and Malik put a finger to his lips.

  Normally that would have only made me speak louder, but I held my tongue for once.

  The doors opened, and this time Malik walked forward first.

  I followed him, stopping a few feet into the room as the doors closed behind me.

  I stood in a large bedchamber. I had never been in such sumptuous lodgings. The walls were hung with colorful tapestries, the floors carpeted with thick, lush rugs. A sofa and several chairs encircled a low table to one side, while against the other wall sheer glittering curtains surrounded a large bed scattered with satin cushions. The room was lit with a cozy glow from the hundreds of candles placed in holders on tables and shelves.