Rapture's Etesian

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “Lord Leksi,” Clea said in a breathless tone. “How did you…?”

  “I would offer my condolences on the demise of your father but considering he was in the process of killing me when he met his fate, I would be lying. I am glad he is no longer among the living.”

  “As am I,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But how came you to be here in the first place, milord? You say he was trying to kill you?”

  “I knew you had no knowledge of what was transpiring earlier this day,” Leksi said. “Lord Konan Krull and I were interned in your dungeon, and I was at the mercy of your father’s torturers.”

  Shock washed across Clea’s face and she got to her feet, her mouth dropping open. She snapped it shut and rushed to him, bending down to put her hands on his shoulders as she bid him rise, her eyes searching his face for signs of suffering. She reached up to cup his cheeks with trembling hands.

  “You are all right? Did they…?”

  “I am well, Highness,” he assured her, and dared to take one of her hands in his and bring the palm to his lips. “Thank you for your concern.”

  “You are sure?” she asked, tears flooding her eyes. “You looked well enough in the dungeon when I saw you.” She blushed. “I really did see you, didn’t I?”

  “Aye, Your Majesty, you did and I am fine.” He smiled at her, and Clea’s heart soared among the stars.

  Flustered, she withdrew her hand from his light grasp and backed away from him, her palm tingling from his kiss as she laid it against her chest, crossing it with her other hand.

  “I am here at the request of Lord Krull. He wishes for you to know he does not hold you accountable for your father’s actions and is well pleased that you will sit the throne of Pleiades.”

  “Despite a veritable army camped at my door?” she asked.

  “An army that came to rescue Lord Krull, Your Majesty,” Leksi explained.

  “They will not attack?”

  “That was never their intention, lest Lord Krull had met his death at the hands of your father.”

  Clea reluctantly turned away from looking at that glorious male face, and walked to the window from which she could see the horses poised on the rise above the keep.

  “Their intention is not to put me in chains?” she asked, her voice a tiny squeak.

  “No, Your Majesty. The riders you see upon the hill are allies to you. They are all women save for Lord Krull.”

  She looked around at him. “Allies?” She shook her head. “Pleiades has no allies, Lord Leksi.”

  “It does now, milady,” he told her, and came to stand beside her. He pointed to the left. “There are the Daughters of the Night led by Queen Mona herself. To the right are the Amazeens with Queen Deianeira in attendance. And those small bands of women warriors you see in the center are members of the Daughters of the Multitude under the leadership of Lady Galatea. They are all your allies.”

  “Such great women!” she said. “I have heard of them all!”

  “With your permission, I will send my lady back to bid them come to meet with you,” he said.

  Clea frowned. “Your lady?”

  Leksi turned and called, “Kynthia.”

  One of the most beautiful women Clea had ever seen walked gracefully into the room. Though she was clad as a warrioress, her femininity was apparent in the way she carried herself and the flawlessness of her tawny skin. The most striking part of her was the thick mane of silver hair that flowed to her waist. Clea’s heart sank at the sight of this lovely woman for she knew without doubt this woman had claimed Leksi Helios’ heart.

  “May I present Lady Kynthia Ancaeus, niece of Lady Galatea?” Leksi inquired.

  Kynthia came forward and curtseyed as gracefully as she walked. Her head was lowered with respect and did not lift until Clea bid her rise.

  “It is a great honor to meet you, Your Highness,” Kynthia said.

  Clea’s smile wavered as she held a hand out to Kynthia. “It is my pleasure to meet a Daughter of the Multitude for I have so longed to be a true member of that wondrous sect.” Her smile returned. “It was you who made the mist, wasn’t it?”

  Kynthia took the older woman’s hand and covered their joined hands with her other hand. “It was, and I am sure my aunt would be delighted to see to your initiation.”

  Despite the jealousy she felt to the very roots of her soul, Clea could not help but like the woman standing before her. There was no guile in Kynthia’s expression, no malice or arrogance in her pretty gray eyes. She did not have the air of condescension about her that many of her father’s guests had thrown at Clea over the years. Clea would have wagered that what she saw as she looked at Kynthia would always be what she would get—honesty, friendship and mutual love for the man standing between them.

  Kynthia nodded. “I will always be your friend if you will allow it.”

  Clea drew in a long breath and released it. “That is good to know for I fear I could never compete with you, Kynthia.” She smiled to show she was teasing.

  “May I bid the queens come to meet with you?” Kynthia asked.

  “By all means!” Clea said, clapping her hands. “We will throw the greatest feast in the history of Pleiades to welcome this new friendship between our countries.”

  Kynthia inclined her head, and with permission of the new Queen of Pleiades, left to bring Clea’s new allies to the keep.

  “You are a lucky man, Lord Leksi,” Clea said. “She will make you a very good lady-wife.”

  “I believe so, too, Your Majesty,” Leksi replied.

  “Well, leave me now so I can dress for my guests,” Clea said, then with a twinkle in her rheumy eyes told him he could stay if he didn’t mind seeing her unclad.

  Leksi grinned. “I could not swear I would not take advantage of you in such a condition, Your Majesty, and since Kynthia is a veritable harridan when it comes to my faithfulness to her, I would prefer leaving Pleiades with all my organs intact.”

  His words made Clea’s womb leap with passion and she had to press her lips together to keep from groaning in frustration. Her palms itched to roam over his brawny body.

  Reading her thoughts, Leksi departed as quickly as he decently could. He understood the effect he was having on her and made a mental note to try and find the lonely woman a suitable mate.

  Or at least a randy suitor, came a giggle, weaving its way through his brain.

  “Behave, Kynthia,” he said with a chuckle, but was pleased to know he could hear her as he had heard Cainer Cree.

  I’m better when I misbehave, warrior, she replied.

  Leksi laughed out loud, surprising the guards he passed on his way out of the corridor that led to the Queen’s chamber. He saw the men gaping at him, no doubt wondering how he had gotten past them in the first place. As they fumbled to pull their swords from the sheaths, he held up his hands—palms to the heavens—and simply vanished before their eyes, his Cheshire grin the last thing to disappear. In his place wafted a wispy fog that clung to the stone walls.

  “Crimy!” one of the guards gasped. “Did you see that?”

  “S-see what?” the other guard choked out.

  They looked at one another, their faces pale and blanched. For a moment, neither spoke then the second guard shrugged.

  “I didn’t see n-nothing.”

  “Then me neither,” the first guard stated. He lowered his sword back into its sheath. “Didn’t see a goddamned thing what turned to fog!”

  * * * * *

  Despite having been told not to leave the Venturian capitol at Lyria, Kratos had ridden to Nebul for he had learned Krull and Leksi had been taken prisoner there. Intent on hacking his way into the keep if necessary, he had been pleasantly surprised to find the keep under the guard of beautiful warrior women. Taken straightaway to Lord Krull, afforded respect and admiration, Kratos could not keep from gawking at the imposing women sitting at the table with him.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to my reward,”
the burly old warrior commented as he took a bite out of the duck leg he waved about to punctuate his words. “Lovely women to look at and food so tempting I can barely breathe!”

  There was roasted pheasant and crisp, golden-brown duckling. Tureens of salmon poached in heavy cream and lobster tail dredged through drawn butter. Sliced veal and ham, and liver smothered in gravy. Pickled beets and corn on the cob, bright green peas and little red potatoes swimming in butter, crisp asparagus and freshly picked tomatoes right off the vine filled bowl after bowl on the banquet table. Wines flowed and ale sparkled in crystal goblets. Milk and ice-cold lemonade vied with rich Rysalian coffees and Chrystallusian teas to please the palates of the feast-goers. Crisp breads and pudding breads, soft rolls and fried cakes were used to sop up the various gravies and sauces. The dessert trays were laden with pies of every fruit and rich cakes piled high with layer upon layer spread with luscious frostings.

  There was also laughter and jokes flying like butterflies through the long room that had not been used for such a joyous occasion since long before Abalam Robeus had taken the throne of Pleiades. Smiles abounded and teasing was the order of the day as three sects of women sat together for the first time without the rivalry that had always been present at such gatherings.

  Outnumbered ten to one, Leksi, Kratos, and Konan Krull were amazed at the bawdy comments bandying about and aimed at the attractive male servants who carried in the platters and trenchers of food.

  “Look at that ass, would you?” a woman said loudly. “I’d love to get my hands on that!”

  “I’d rather wrap my fingers around his cock!” another guffawed. “Come here, baby, and let me see if you’d fit in my cunt!”

  Konan’s face turned dull red beneath the onslaught of off-color comments and he had to cover his shock behind the crisp linen of his napkin.

  Kratos grinned as he chewed a large mouthful of succulent ham.

  Leksi lowered his head and hid his eyes beneath the canopy of his hand.

  “Ladies,” Clea said, laughing. “Let’s keep it clean while our three male guests are in attendance. We are upsetting their sense of propriety.”

  Queen Deianeira raised her glass of Chalean brandy. “Here’s to the embarrassment of men. May it always be there to amuse us!”

  “Here! Here!” rang out around the table.

  Clea leaned over to speak to the Lord High Commander who—because of his high rank—was seated to her right.

  “Pay no attention to them, Commander. Drink does strange things to us all,” she apologized.

  Konan looked up from his plate and found Queen Mona staring at him, her eyes hot with lust and he looked quickly away. He could not be in the same room with the woman and not want to strangle her for what she had done long ago, yet he found he had pity for her left within him.

  “No need to concern yourself, Your Highness,” Konan replied. “We men should retire and leave you ladies to your merriment.”

  Kynthia was holding Leksi’s hand, and when she heard those words, slipped her fingers from his grip. She looked at him and smiled. “Be gone with you, warrior, else you might find yourself on your back, being wedged by every hot sheath in here.”

  Leksi took up his goblet and drained the last of his Chrystallusian plum wine. He pushed his chair back, stood then bent over to place a light kiss on Kynthia’s cheek. But before his mouth could touch her face, she turned so that their mouths locked and she kissed him long and hard, to the hoots of the women around them. When she released her hold on his lips, she winked at him.

  “Now they know who they’ll have to fight if they want a taste of those luscious lips, warrior,” she said.

  Leksi blushed to the tips of his toes and backed away from the table, bumping into Kratos who reached out to steady his captain.

  “Ever stray from that pretty wife of yours, Lord Krull?” a Hell Hag called out.

  Konan shook his head. “No, Lady. I…”

  “He did once,” Queen Mona said. “And it nearly destroyed him.”

  Their eyes met and Konan could feel the chill of those words, but he could also sense the sorrow in them.

  “Go to your lonely bed, Koni,” Mona said. “Have faith that not a single one of us will slip between your sheets or your strong, hairy thighs.” She looked away from him.

  “But you’d best lock your door just in case, pretty one!” Queen Deianeira said with a hoot.

  “Get your sheets warm for me, warrior,” Kynthia called out, making sure every woman there knew she had claimed Leksi Helios. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  A chorus of boos rang out, but it was a good-natured caterwauling. No woman there wanted to fight a Daughter of the Multitude—especially one who was no longer completely human—for the man she had branded her own.

  With the men gone from the table, the women settled down and it was Lady Galatea who brought their attention to her.

  “We all know,” she began, “there will always be war. The Venturians will fight the Rysalians and the Rysalians will fight the Ordonese. The Qabalans will sit with their thumbs up their collective asses and watch while the world destroys itself around them.”

  “Which leads us to this,” Queen Deianeira spoke up. “We have decided to annex Qabala and make it a part of Pleiades.”

  Clea winced. “I’m not sure I wish to rule such a people as the Qabalans. They are so…so…” She shrugged. “…useless.”

  “True,” Galatea said, “but we would rather they be ours to command in war rather than standing there watching us be conquered by the Rysalians or Ordonese.”

  “What of the Venturians?” someone asked.

  “We have nothing to worry about from the Venturians,” Kynthia said. “They are staunch allies.”

  “True,” her aunt agreed. “It is those Hasdu thieves in Ventura and Ordon that concern me.”

  “As long as I am Queen in Bandar,” Mona said, “we have nothing to worry about with the Ordonese. Sekhem—for whatever his vile reason—has a care for his daughter.”

  “That thing is Lilit’s father!” a woman asked with a gasp.

  “Unfortunately so,” Mona replied. “Believe me when I say I wish it were otherwise.” She lifted her wine goblet. “I would have preferred she had been sired by Konan Krull.”

  Every woman there knew of what had transpired in Mona’s room in Ventura. Though few approved of what she had done, not a one would condemn her for trying to garner a male child from the loins of such a powerful warrior.

  “But what happens when you leave us, Mona?” Galatea asked. “Will Lilit pose a threat to the Daughterhoods?”

  Mona squeezed her eyes shut and massaged them with the fingers of her right hand. “I don’t know, Galatea. I wish I could tell you she won’t, but I truly don’t know.” She lowered her hand, her shoulders slumping, and opened her eyes. “I hate to say it, but I do not trust my own child.”

  Kynthia settled back in her chair. She and Leksi had already discussed that loathsome child and had come to the conclusion that she would not be missed if she could be spirited away to a place from whence she could do no harm. Where that would be was anyone’s guess.

  “Perhaps you should send Lilit to Serenia,” Galatea suggested.

  Mona frowned. “To Serenia? Why there?”

  “She is suggesting Lilit be sent to Galrath,” Queen Deianeira answered quietly.

  Every woman there knew of the infamous convent. It was a brutal nunnery, run by a group of sadistic nuns under the control of the Brotherhood of the Domination, a sect of priests considered to be the most evil of their kind.

  Mona shook her head. “No, I can not do that. Not even Lilit deserves such a fate.”

  “Will you be able to control her once she reaches puberty?” Galatea inquired.

  A look of fear passed over Mona’s lovely features. “I don’t know. I hope so but I…” She buried her face in her hands. “The gods help me but I don’t know!”

  “She is but a year or two away from
being a woman,” Queen Deianeira reminded Mona. “If she acquires her sire’s powers, she will be a force with whom to reckon. Will you be able to meet that challenge, Mona?”

  Despite the copious wine, and ale and brandy that had been consumed, the women gathered around the banquet table were now stone cold sober. Their eyes were locked upon Queen Mona, who was sobbing quietly, her shoulders heaving in her distress.

  “No woman should be asked to remand her daughter into Galrath,” Kynthia spoke up. “Perhaps we should relieve Queen Mona of such a terrible burden.”

  There were nods around the table and a soft muttering of “ayes”.

  “I say we cast a vote,” Galatea suggested. “Those in favor of sending Lilit to Galrath, how say you?”

  “Aye!” Out of the twenty women gathered, only one voice abstained from the vote but neither did that voice say “nay” when the vote was cast.

  “So be it,” Galatea declared. She looked to her niece. “Will you see to it, Kynni?”

  Kynthia nodded. “Leksi and I will.”

  Sitting unseen in the corner of the banqueting room, Morrigunia shook her head. The women had made their decision, but it was not one the Goddess would accept. Disgusted, she quit the room and flew to Bandar, appearing before a stunned girl-child on the verge of her first monthly flow.

  “Who are you?” the child demanded. Her pretty face was tight with an ugliness that spoke of her heritage.

  “Never mind that. You had best be up, Little Sister,” Morrigunia ordered. “They are coming to take you to Galrath.”

  Lilit jumped to her feet. “No!” she cried.

  “Then call your lieutenants and have them fly you to Ordon,” the Goddess directed.

  “But…”

  Morrigunia advanced on the child and grasped the slight chin in a stony grip. “Do you wish to be at the mercy of those hellish nuns?”

  “No,” Lilit whimpered.