by Jayne Faith
“No, I want you to say it to Lord Toric. But you’re going to practice it on Rosa until it sounds convincing.” Sytoria crossed her arms and gave me an expectant look.
My cheeks burned. I couldn’t move. I was almost positive I couldn’t force my lips to repeat what Sytoria had said.
She sighed loudly and placed her hands on her shapely hips. “If you can’t bring yourself to say a few little words here in front of a couple of women who don’t care one way or the other, how do you expect to be able to dominate the Guardian Lord of Calisto and Earthenfell?”
I cleared my throat and then strode across the room to stand before Rosa.
I said it.
My voice was too soft, and I knew I trailed off too much at the end, but I said it.
“Again,” Sytoria commanded. “Make us believe it.”
I said it again, and a small part of me wondered if Sytoria was just trying to humiliate me. Maybe this little exercise had nothing to do with anything. Maybe she just wanted to put me in my place. It was possible, I supposed, but I didn’t really think so. Clarisse was right. Sytoria desperately wanted information about the Return.
“Say it again,” she said. “This time look him straight in the eye as if you know his every desire, his every hidden secret.”
She made me repeat the phrase, adding a bit more guidance each time, until the words slid from my tongue and ceased to make every inch of my skin sting with embarrassment.
“Getting better,” she finally said, nodding. “Now strip down to your underclothes.”
I looked at her askance.
“You have to be confident enough to do this while you’re wearing next to nothing. Or nothing at all.”
I couldn’t argue. I took off my dress and she fed me more phrases to repeat. As instructed, I tried different inflections, different tones. I stood with a hand planted on one jutted hip. I half-turned and said it over my shoulder. Sytoria had me move to the opposite side of the room and then get down on my hands and knees and crawl slowly toward Rosa, drawing the words out.
I was practically sweating with effort by the time Sytoria told me to get dressed.
“If you want more, you’re going to have to make it worth my while,” she said. “I need more details. Something significant this time.”
I glanced at Rosa, wondering how much she knew. Probably everything.
I wanted to protest, to get more from Sytoria—we hadn’t even talked about the whips yet—but knew she wouldn’t go for it. The information I’d given her was thin at best. I needed something meatier.
“I will bring you more. And thank you,” I said. I was grateful. Where else was I going to learn any of this? “That was actually rather . . . exhilarating, in a strange sort of way.”
“Remember, you must be confident enough to take complete control of a scenario,” she said. “There are no props in the world that can substitute for confidence.”
I inclined my head, indicating that I was absorbing what she taught. Even if she was taking pleasure in humiliating me, I found I didn’t really care too much. I had to get past humiliation, hesitation, and worrying about how I looked if I had any hope of taking command of Lord Toric’s bedchamber.
As I left Sytoria and Rosa’s room, I remembered my reflection in the mirror when I’d tried on the black negligee. I imagined wearing it, my hair in wild waves and my lips painted a daring deep red, and walking toward Lord Toric. A slow smile pulled my mouth wider as I imagined the look on his face as certain phrases fell from my lips.
This would be a new adventure for both of us. But it would only happen if I could learn more details about the Return for Sytoria.
*
I finally caught up with Clarisse at dinnertime. Even though I was glad to see her, being with her brought back my anxiety over controlling my thoughts. Sytoria’s lesson had been an excellent distraction from the story of the field mice and all of its implications.
We carried our soup and bread to an empty table.
“I had a session with Sytoria today,” I said, placing my napkin on my lap and picking up my soup spoon.
“Ooo,” she teased, her eyes widening with interest. “Tell me!”
I recounted the whole thing, and when I told her the phrases Sytoria had made me repeat about a hundred times, Clarisse burst out laughing.
“I really wish I could have seen that,” she said when she finally had control of herself. A few seconds later she snorted another laugh as if she were imagining it all anew.
“Hey, I held my own,” I shot back. “It was almost kind of fun. Different.”
“Well, at least she didn’t scare you off. That’s something, I suppose.”
We ate in silence for a minute or two, watching women trickle into the cafeteria in twos and threes.
I leaned toward Clarisse. “Any progress on arranging a meeting with my sister?” I whispered.
She shook her head. “I won’t be able to coordinate that for a while. I’m occupied with other things.”
“Like what?”
She looked away, chewing a bite of bread and appearing uninterested in answering my question.
“Did you know another Tournament will begin soon?” she asked.
I frowned, confused by the abrupt subject change. She was trying to signal something without saying it aloud.
“It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly half a year since I came to Calisto,” I said, playing along.
“Yes, well, time flies when you’re busy falling in love with an alien Lord, performing miracles, and taking dominatrix lessons,” she said dryly.
It was my turn to snort a laugh. I pushed my napkin against my lips to keep from spraying soup everywhere. But my mind skipped back a few seconds in our conversation. What was she trying to tell me? That she was somehow involved in the Tournament? Maybe she was going to be a Tournament guide again. Maybe for the purposes of—
I halted my train of thought, bringing all of my focus to the bowl of soup in front of me, and took a couple of steadying breaths. I couldn’t allow my thoughts to wander too far.
“It helps to have a song in your head,” Clarisse said in a low voice. Her casual tone didn’t match the tightness around her eyes.
I looked up. “A . . . song?”
What was she trying to tell me now?
She flicked a glance at me and then away. “If you start thinking something you’d rather not think, have a song that you start singing in your head. It’s a good way to quickly switch channels in your mind.”
“Ah, I see.” I nodded slowly. “That is an excellent suggestion, thank you.”
I began silently singing one of Lana’s favorites, a song she used to sing when we were in the orchards. It was a silly song with rhyming words that didn’t make much sense and a bright, fast-moving melody. Perfect for a quick, meaningless channel change.
Later after I’d bathed, I stood in front of my open armoire. I ran a finger over the lace of the black negligee but didn’t pull it from its hanger. I planned to save that one. Instead, I chose a deep rosy pink frock. It was a color that reminded me of Calistan sunsets, and one that I knew brought out the natural blush of my cheeks.
The slightly rough texture of the imitation raw silk had a subtle glow rather than the shimmer of smooth silk. The cut of the negligee was simple and it had almost no detailing, but the back was cut very low and thin straps criss-crossed in a complicated pattern across my back.
I still had no makeup or perfume of my own. I glanced enviously at Kalindi’s vanity, which had hair ribbons and jewelry hanging from a swooping scallop in the edge of her mirror’s design, and sparkling perfume bottles grouped at the back. I knew one drawer was full of cosmetics. Then I turned away with a shrug. Lord Toric didn’t seem to mind that I had none of those things.
When I reached Lord Toric’s bedchamber, he was happy to see me but seemed distant. His blue-green eyes shifted in an unfocused, distracted way.
I placed my hand on his cheek. “Let’s
go to the balcony and you can tell me what’s worrying you.”
He leaned into my palm for a moment but then shook his head. “It’s too cold tonight.”
“Then let’s go somewhere else.”
He seemed to brighten a little. “I know just the place.”
He took my hand and towed me toward a door. We wound through narrow corridors with two of his guards following at a discreet distance behind us. I didn’t recognize this part of Lord Toric’s quarters, and when he stopped at a door I had no idea what we’d find on the other side.
Low, warm lights flickered on as he stepped in ahead of me. It was a small, cozy room—tiny, really. A bookshelf with a few small decorative items on one wall and in a corner stood a sculpture of a nude Calistan woman with fabric draped strategically around her body. Those were the only pieces of interest in the room. Most of the room was occupied by a huge, plush chaise lounge. It faced away from the door, toward a window that took up the entire far wall.
“This is the vista room,” he said. “It’s getting a bit dark to fully appreciate it now, but it has a spectacular view of the city with Calisto’s only peaks beyond.”
Calisto’s peaks, as he called them were nothing like the rolling foothills or majestic mountains of Earthenfell. I could just make out a series of jagged crags and deep crevices that appeared to be formed out of some sort of dark rock. They looked very alien to my eyes, perilous and sharp, and held a certain dangerous beauty.
We snuggled into the plush cushions of the chaise lounge with a blanket tucked around us. His arm curved around my shoulder blades, pulling me in close to his side, and his other hand found mine under the covers.
We watched as the last light in the sky weakened above and city lights illuminated below.
After several minutes of comfortable silence, I squeezed his hand. “What’s weighing on your mind?”
He shifted a little and let out an almost imperceptible sigh. “I think I believed that if we ever drew near to the time of the Return, things would fall into place. The pieces would click together as if moved and guided by a divine hand. But it hasn’t been that simple.”
Sudden anxiety prickled over my chest and neck. “Are you encountering some sort of . . . opposition?”
“The Priestess and I are not seeing eye to eye.” His voice was flat, tired.
I relaxed a little. For a moment I’d feared that there was some connection to the activities of the . . . field mice.
Just as I was about to ask him to tell me more, he sat up a little straighter and moved his arm out from behind me so he could twist toward me. He propped himself up on his elbow. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” I looked up into his eyes, trying to decipher the mix of emotions I saw in them.
He gave a little laugh. “I’ve refused to choose a Calistan wife.”
“You . . . but how?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I just did.”
I couldn’t help a smile of delight as a warm glow burst through me, but at the same time I wondered about the repercussions. “Is this the source of your conflict with the High Priestess?”
“In part, yes. But it’s not your worry.” He gripped my hand and ran his thumb lightly back and forth over my knuckles. A smile played over his lips as he leaned toward me, but just before his mouth covered mine I saw the strain still in his eyes.
So easily, I could have given in to his pull. But a dark thread of worry wound my insides tighter. I tipped my head back slightly, ending the kiss and waiting for him to open his eyes.
“But what’s going to happen?” I asked. “I know it’s not just a matter of you deciding you’re not going to follow convention. If it were that easy, you would have done it long ago.”
He smiled again, faintly, but it didn’t quite dissolve the tension and fatigue that lined his forehead. He brushed my hair back from my temple with a light touch of his fingertips. He seemed to be savoring the moment, drawing it out by not answering right away.
“You’re right, it’s not quite that easy.” He turned his head to gaze out the window, and I watched his face in profile.
I touched his arm, trying to bring him back. “Is this going to put the Return in peril somehow?”
He focused on me again, and I tried to give him an encouraging look.
“No, it shouldn’t. If everyone would just stay calm, it wouldn’t. In fact, one of the reasons I did it was to show my faith. I believe the Return will come soon, making a new Calistan Queen unnecessary.” His face softened and his eyes roved my face. “But the main reason I refused to continue the process was you, of course. I simply can’t live with the thought of being with another woman. I can’t go through with it, not even for show. And I believe that means something. For us, and for the destiny of Calisto.”
My love for him swelled so suddenly my vision swam as my eyes welled. I slid my arms around his neck and crushed my lips to his. Our bodies pressed together in a passionate, heated embrace, and I felt his stomach muscles flexing through the thin fabric of his tunic and my negligee.
I nudged him over onto his back and straddled his waist. He pulled my negligee over my head in one smooth motion. Then we were tumbling around in the covers together, shifting to pull off his clothes and then hungrily reaching for each other again.
When the heat of our passion was finally spent we lay together, limp and satiated with our limbs entangled.
“Tell me more about the Return,” I said, shifting so I could more easily speak to him. “I want to know what it will be like on Earthenfell. For us.”
My head rested in the crook of his shoulder as if his body had been designed to hold me just so. I traced slow circles on his chest with my finger.
“Us? You and me?” he asked. “Or do you mean you and your people, Earthens?”
“Well . . . both,” I said.
My pulse quickened as I sensed he was weighing exactly how to respond.
He pulled away from me and sat up and then swung his legs over the side of the chaise lounge and stood. My heart lurched. Had I offended him somehow? I sat up, pulling the covers up to my chest and clutching the fabric in both hands.
“Lord Toric, I didn’t . . . mean to . . .” I trailed off as I watched him walk, stark naked, around the end of the large, plush chaise.
He stopped on my side and then bent down, kneeling next to me. His eyes swam with emotion as he reached for one of my hands, pulling my fingers free from the blanket I’d held tightly in my fist.
His large hands clasped mine, engulfing them. I stared up at him, a question poised on the tip of my tongue.
“You’re the only woman I want by my side, from now until my last breath. Maya Calderon, will you be my wife?”
My lips parted and I blinked a few times as he looked earnestly into my eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered. Then I took a hitching breath as the tears of happiness swelled in my throat and welled up in my eyes. “Yes!”
As we became lost in each other once again, tenderly this time, something tiny but insistent nudged at the back of my mind.
There was something I needed to do, or know, or . . .
But I ignored it and let myself sink into the unlikely love that had blossomed between me and the alien Lord. He wanted me, and only me. I would be his. I was his. And he would be mine.
We deserved a moment that belonged only to us. My worries, my questions, could wait.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when I saw Sytoria in the corridor, that I realized I’d gained no new information to share with her.
The most naïve part of me desperately wanted to believe that Lord Toric’s proposal meant that Sytoria’s lessons, the whips and pain, no longer would be necessary. I wanted to believe that my love was enough to cure his past wounds. To erase his dark needs. I knew it was a childish wish. His needs were part of him, and neither he nor I should try to deny it.
But suddenly I felt a pressure, an almost physical throbbing sensation at the center of
my heart. With each beat, another second passed. More time since Lord Toric’s last true release. I knew he couldn’t ignore it forever. He seemed calm, but it had already been weeks. I would have to fulfill his need soon, whether I was truly ready or not.
9
Toric
MY PROPOSAL TO Maya had been spontaneous, not really what I’d envisioned, but in the end it was perfect. I’d asked her not to reveal our engagement yet. I wished it didn’t have to be so, but in light of the whirl of events, the announcement needed to be timed for the right impact.
The future queen was supposed to wear metal bands around her wrists and ankles from the time of the engagement until the wedding night. I would find some other symbol of our intended union to give to Maya. It wouldn’t be something of my mother’s. A shame, as she had some truly lovely and historic pieces of jewelry. But I would never want Maya to wear anything that had ever been in Queen Stella’s possession.
Through my assistant Camira, I discreetly contacted an artisan jeweler, seeking a special ring. The jeweler promised to have several different proposals mocked up by the end of the week.
With the glow of Maya’s acceptance surrounding me, I turned my attention to other matters.
There was no easy way to summon Novia from the Temple without High Priestess Lunaria’s knowledge, so I decided I wouldn’t try to hide the meeting.
I openly made the appointment with Lunaria’s rival. It was under the guise of needing detailed information about how Novia and her team had determined the Pirro lineage of the women I’d rejected. I pretended I was questioning the legitimacy of the results.
When Novia arrived at the palace, I felt a rush of relief. I’d half-expected Lunaria to forbid her top researcher to attend our meeting. I wasn’t even sure if it was within the High Priestess’s power to do so. But given the recent fracture in our relationship, I couldn’t make any assumptions.
The contrast between Novia’s cold, calculating eyes and her feminine appearance always unnerved me. It was as if she’d received the wrong body at birth. I knew she was extremely intelligent, but she seemed devoid of any warmth. Perhaps her research ignited her passion in ways I’d not witnessed.