Shades of Empire (ThreeCon)

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  “Access,” Antonio said softly, rolling the word around in his mind. He now had access to Cassandra. “I like the sound of that, Sergei. Very well, I’ll do as you say, but I mean to let the little bitch know what’s coming to her.”

  Paznowski’s eyes held distress as he held up his hands. “Please consider, Excellency, that it could be disastrous if Lady Cassandra were to tell anyone—servants, guardsmen, her doctor—what you plan to do.”

  “I’ll take care of that problem,” Antonio said smiling, sure of his own abilities, “but I’ll need your help, Sergei. Stay here when she comes in, and do exactly as I tell you.”

  Paznowski still looked worried, but he bowed deferentially. “Yes, Excellency.”

  Just as the imperial adviser straightened up, the door chimed melodically. Paznowski opened it to admit Cassandra Fitzlothar and an escort of six guardsmen.

  “Cassie!” Antonio said in a pleased voice. “Cassie, you’re safe! This is wonderful.”

  He waved the guardsmen back and drew his half-sister into the vestibule.

  Cassandra came reluctantly, casting a worried glance over her shoulder at the six tall guardsmen on the other side of the door.

  “This is Sergei Paznowski, Cassie,” Antonio said, anticipation warming his tone as he pulled his newly restored half-sibling into the sitting room. “He’s been advising me in this crisis.”

  Cassandra gave Paznowski a quick, anxious glance, but said nothing to him. “I’m rather tired, Antonio. I think I’d prefer to go to my rooms now, and rest.”

  Antonio’s smile was both cruel and gleeful. “Not just yet, Cassie, not just yet.” He stepped close behind her and pulled her hair back to expose her neck. Cassandra stood still, looking almost shocked as he began to kiss her neck delicately.

  “We have such a lot to talk about, sister dear,” Antonio went on, releasing her. “You’ve had a terrible ordeal, and you should be with your loving family. Shouldn’t she, Sergei?”

  “Most certainly, Excellency,” Paznowski said promptly.

  Antonio laughed at the look of dismay on Cassandra’s face. Really, this would be fun. “I’m Emperor now, Cassie.” He put one arm around her and ran the other hand down the front of her dress, stroking her body possessively. “And Sergei is my loyal adviser. He’s going to find the best way for me to have you when I want you without shocking the provincial souls in Montmartre.”

  Cassandra tried to pull away, but Antonio tightened his grip and held her tightly against him.

  He lowered his left hand and began to fondle her, his hand stroking her breasts, then sliding down her torso. “It’s no good trying to get away. You have nowhere to run now.”

  Cassandra stomped one foot down hard on his instep.

  Antonio swore as she pulled loose from him. “I’ll make you pay for that, sister,” he said, hot with rage. The little bitch still didn’t understand her place. “Hold her, Sergei.”

  Paznowski grabbed Cassandra as she started to whirl around to face him. He succeeded in pinning her arms to her sides in spite of her struggles.

  “Now, Cassandra,” Antonio said, filling his voice with menace as he advanced on her, “I’m going to show you something.”

  He pulled a laser pistol from his pocket and held it in front of his sister’s face. “This was Father’s. It’s a laser pistol; it uses light to cut, much as a knife would cut, or a scalpel. You can even control how deeply it cuts by setting the range very precisely.”

  He adjusted the dial carefully and then switched the laser on. A sudden joy filled him. He was glad she was fighting him. He would never get a chance to do this otherwise. “Don’t move, Cassie. Don’t move the tiniest little bit.”

  Cassandra’s eyes went wide as she stared at the laser in his hand. She froze, not moving in Sergei Paznowski’s grasp as Antonio pointed the laser at her with one hand while he used the other to pull open the front of her dress and then ripped her underclothes to expose her breasts.

  “It’s too bad the rebels abused you,” Antonio said, an idea coming to him. “They tortured you, didn’t they? How cruel of them to do this to you?”

  He moved the laser swiftly and held the point of the barrel a dozen centimeters from Cassandra’s torso. Cassandra screamed. Antonio paid no attention as he traced a design on the skin between her breasts. When the blood-red lines approximated the imperial seal, he lifted the pistol and switched it off.

  It was a superficial wound but blood seeped from the skin. Antonio used a fingertip to catch a few drops and held it to his lips. He savored the salt taste of the blood, and then he stepped closer and caught Cassandra by her hair.

  “Now listen to me, Cassie. If you tell anyone about what I intend for you, I’ll take this laser and cut your tongue from your mouth. You know I’ll do it, don’t you?”

  She stared up at him in fear but said nothing.

  Antonio yanked hard on her hair and held the barrel of the pistol against her throat. “You know I’ll do it, don’t you? Say it, Cassie, or I’ll hurt you worse than that inconsequential little cut.”

  She swallowed once. “I know you’ll do it,” she whispered.

  “That’s better,” Antonio said, satisfaction suffusing him. “I’ve made my mark on you now, Cassandra. I’ve staked my claim to your body, and in a few days I’ll take possession.”

  Cassandra said nothing, but her eyes grew stark with terror.

  “Now,” Antonio said, “I need to know—did any of those rebel scum rape you?”

  “No,” Cassandra said, still in a whisper. “Champion wanted to, but Governor wouldn’t let him. He ordered them not to harm me or to mark me in any way. He told the woman—Wizard he called her—not to leave me alone with any of them.”

  Antonio was immeasurably pleased. “So, you’re still a virgin?”

  She cast her eyes down modestly. “No.”

  “What?” Antonio roared. “You said none of them raped you?”

  “They didn’t.”

  “Then who?” Antonio said, still seething with rage. “Who dared to lay hands on you?”

  She shuddered and turned her face away.

  “Who was it?” Antonio demanded again, yanking her head around to face him. “Was it one of the Corps?”

  “No. No, it wasn’t any of them. It was Father.”

  Antonio couldn’t believe he had heard her right. “What?”

  Cassandra sobbed convulsively and the tears flew down her face unrestrained. “It was Father. He only did it once. He said it was to punish me for pestering him about seeing my mother.”

  Antonio’s head reeled. “He did it when your mother was alive?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra whispered. “I was fourteen.”

  Antonio stared at her and then put his head back and laughed out loud. “That old dog! I never knew he had it in him!”

  Cassandra lifted her eyes and gave him a pitiful look. “That’s why I never told him what you threatened to do to me. I was afraid he’d just let you do it.”

  Antonio mulled this new concept in his mind. It was true that in his last moments his father hadn’t condemned Antonio’s tastes, only his willingness to make them public. “It seems you’re still unpolluted, anyway. No one but a du Plessis has touched you. I don’t mind so much if it was Father who took your maidenhead.”

  Cassandra swallowed hard and choked back tears. “May I go now, Antonio?”

  He smiled as he ran his hand down her bare flesh. “You’re learning already, Cassandra,” he said in a pleased tone. Taming her would be fun. She had spirit and would struggle, but he would win. “Clean off the blood and fasten your dress, and you can go.”

  She complied hastily, her hands trembling as she took the cloth that Sergei Paznowski offered her and wiped the blood from her breasts. She fastened her clothes and started for the door.

  “Remember the laser, Cassie!” Antonio called after her. “It wouldn’t destroy your beauty at all to cut out your tongue, you know? I could still enjoy your body even if
I couldn’t understand your pleading.”

  She ducked her head and almost ran into the vestibule. She opened the door to the corridor herself, startling the guardsmen who were waiting to take her back to the family part of the women’s quarters.

  Sergei Paznowski frowned as he watched her go through the door.

  “What’s the matter?” Antonio asked, feeling triumphant. “Are you worried she’ll talk? She won’t.”

  “No, Excellency,” Paznowski said, coming alert as if he had been daydreaming. “You handled her very well. I’m quite certain she won’t tell anyone what you plan for her. I’m merely considering the situation in the palace at the time of the attack.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Excellency, unlike the Princess, Lady Cassandra clearly does not return your regard at all. She would, in fact, make every effort to avoid being in your power.”

  Antonio weighed the words. What was Sergei getting at? “You think she cooperated with the rebels?”

  “It’s possible. But I don’t have enough information to say it with any certainty. Clearly, the same rebel group that attacked the palace held her prisoner. Both Helena Barranca and Lady Cassandra mentioned some of the same code names. And yet, no one has stated a plausible reason for Lady Cassandra’s kidnapping. What did they hope to accomplish, even if they had been able to take Princess Vinitra instead?”

  “I don’t know.” Antonio knitted his brows in annoyance, then shrugged. Politics was tiring, and not where he wanted to spend his time and efforts. “But you had better come up with a plan for me to have Cassandra soon, Sergei, because she’s left me feeling very lustful, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to wait.”

  “As to that, Excellency,” Paznowski said, smiling slightly, “there should be no problem. If the Princess alone isn’t enough to satisfy your appetite, Count Barranca’s bedmate is, after all, your concubine, and you have only to summon her a little early, do you not?”

  Antonio smiled happily. “Very true, Sergei. I knew you’d have a good suggestion.”

  • • •

  Peter Barranca was quite used to the pattern of his supposed conjugal excursions. There was never any variation in what happened. He arrived at the palace late in the day, usually after dinner, and showered before dressing for bed. Gregorio always waited for him, and laid out a clean nightshirt, as well as collecting all his laundry.

  If Peter was near the bedroom door, he would hear the click when it locked. At some point soon after the valet left him, the lights would flicker, and the door would be unlocked. Peter would go into the dark bedroom to find Marie waiting for him. He had grown quite used to sleeping with her beside him, and if he still felt the strain of being so close without satisfying the arousal he felt, at least he enjoyed the sense of intimacy that came from having her sleep in his bed.

  On this night, however, Peter was distressed when, as soon as he slid under the covers, Marie clutched at him desperately.

  “What is it?” Peter said in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  She tucked her head against his chest and sobbed once, as if she couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “What is it?” Peter demanded again. “What happened?”

  Marie pulled his head down so that she could whisper directly into his ear. “The Emperor,” she said, still fighting for control. “He—he—”

  “What did he do?” Peter said sharply.

  “Shh!” she ordered. “He—he sent for me early, so that he could, so that he could—”

  She sobbed again, and Peter held her closer.

  “Did he rape you?” he said quietly.

  She gave a little gasp of surprise. “I didn’t fight him,” she said in a whisper. “I knew better than to try that. The servants warned me. It’s just that it wasn’t at all like it was with you. He—he hurt me. He enjoyed hurting me.”

  Peter held her more tightly, and stroked her hair. Marie gulped for air and then went on.

  “And then, just as he was almost finished, she came in.”

  “The Princess?”

  “Yes. It was terrible. She was upset, and he got angry at her. He made her kneel on the floor and watch while he finished with me. Then he sent me here. I couldn’t wait to get away.”

  Peter held her in his arms and laid his cheek against the top of her head. “You’re safe in here.”

  “I know. I always feel safe with you, Peter—even on that first night.”

  She cried quietly against his chest for a few minutes, and finally fell asleep still clutching him tightly. Peter held her and stared into the Stygian gloom, trying to think of a way that he could keep her truly safe.

  • • •

  Vinitra was still crying, and Antonio was still angry.

  The Emperor had put a robe on, but otherwise he was naked as he paced back and forth in his bedroom. His sister knelt on the floor in a crumpled heap and sobbed her heart out.

  “Stop it, Vinnie!” Antonio commanded. He was beginning to get irritated as well as angry,

  She lifted her face and looked at him with her eyes red from weeping. “How could you do it, Tonio? You said you loved only me!”

  “Of course I love only you,” Antonio said scathingly. “You don’t think that meant anything, do you? I don’t care about that little tart. Do you think I worried about her the way I worry about you? Do you think I saw to her pleasure as I see to yours? I don’t care whether she enjoyed it any more than I care whether my shoes enjoy it when I put them on.”

  Vinitra sniffed dolefully. “But why did you do it, Antonio?”

  He came across the room and looked down at her. “You said no to me last night, Vinnie. It was very wrong of you, and you know it.”

  She cast her head down and sniffed again. “It hurt,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t like it when it hurts me.”

  “Well, you see then,” Antonio said in a reasonable tone, “I have to have other women. How else can I satisfy my appetite without hurting you?”

  It made perfect sense to him, but Vinitra gave him a doubtful look, so he went on with his arguments.

  “I’m the Emperor, after all, just as Father was. I have a half dozen women I’ve been neglecting because I love you so much. You’ll come to me every night, and sleep only in my bed, but from time to time during the day, I may need to use some other woman’s body. None of that will ever change the fact that I love only you.”

  Vinitra bit her lip and looked sullen. She had that stubborn look he recognized from childhood.

  “Now, Vinnie,” Antonio chided, “you must learn to mind me better. I’m afraid I shall have to punish you.”

  Vinitra hung her head. “I’m sorry, Antonio.”

  Her voice was almost a whisper. Antonio stuck out his bare foot. “Apologize properly.”

  She bent over, hands behind her and kissed his foot reverently. She looked up at him and said, “Please forgive me, my darling Antonio.”

  Her expression was so contrite, he was tempted to forgive her right then. But then he recalled her transgression, and it occurred to him that he had promised to punish her.

  “Go and get the nerve stimulator,” he ordered.

  She blanched and didn’t move, and Antonio knew he had been right to insist on punishment. “Vinnie!”

  She rose to her feet, wobbling a little as she did so, and slowly walked to the bedside table. When she came back to where he waited, the nerve stimulator in one hand, her face was as pale as marble.

  “Now,” Antonio said, keeping his voice stern, “it’s very simple, Vinnie. If you want me to forgive you, then you must punish yourself. If you do, then you may stay here and spend the night with me, and I will love you just as much as ever. If you don’t, then you can spend the night in Peter Barranca’s bed, and I’ll summon the redhead back here again. Do you understand?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Well, then,” Antonio said, giving her a severe look. “I’m waiting.”

  Vinitra opened her
gown and slowly moved the nerve stimulator so that it was between her legs. She gave Antonio a pleading look, but he said nothing. She whimpered once, bit her lip, and then pressed the switch. A scream broke from her, her muscles locked from the agony, and her face contorted into a grimace.

  Antonio counted three seconds and then knocked her hand away. “That’s enough. I forgive you.”

  She gave a gasp of relief and sank to the floor.

  Antonio bent down, took the stimulator away from her and restored it to its place in his bedside table. He sat down on the bed and yawned, then pulled the covers back so he could slide under them. “Come to bed, Vinnie. Quarreling fatigues me, and I’m tired.”

  She pulled herself up and tottered around the bed, reaching for the covers on her side.

  “Vinnie!”

  She stopped at his angry exclamation, her expression confused.

  Antonio frowned. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  She looked down at herself, and then flushed. Slipping the nightgown from her shoulders, she let it fall to the floor so that she was naked.

  “That’s better,” he said, pulling the covers back for her. “Come to bed now.”

  She lay down next to him, and Antonio pulled her closer. She whimpered once, and tucked her head into his chest.

  Antonio stroked her face. He lifted her chin and kissed her gently. “It’s all right, Vinnie. I’ve forgiven you.”

  She sobbed and hugged him tightly. “Please don’t be angry at me. I can’t bear it when you’re angry.”

  “I can’t stay angry at you so long as you mind me. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Tonio. I’ll try to be good.”

  “That’s a good girl. Lights off!” he called, and the room went dark.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thaddeus sat on a sofa in Augustus Chang’s small apartment on Space Station du Plessis and stared glumly at the hypospray in his colleague’s hand. “I suppose there’s no other way?”

  “Sure there’s another way,” Augustus said, sounding annoyingly cheerful. “You can go down there without this and get caught in the first five minutes. You’re not really an actor, Thad. You may have been able to convince the crew of the Queen Bee that you were some kind of mental deficient, but it’s easier for a smart man to act stupid than for a stranger to act like a one of the gang.”