The Sun Witch, page 23
But that’s where the resemblance ended. Kane was kind and good and noble. This woman was calculating and manipulative and possibly evil. That was certainly an evil gleam in her eyes as she dragged Sophie up a narrow winding staircase, into another Level of the palace, and down a wide hallway. One sentinel had remained behind to guard Ariana’s door; the other followed the two women closely, as they stepped into a large, dank room. It was morning, so where was the sun? All the light in this echoing chamber was artificial. Strange lamps set in the walls glowed yellow; soft flames burned here and there, even in bowls that floated upon the surface of a large, still pool of water.
“Take off those disgusting clothes,” Liane ordered as she released her grip on Sophie’s wrist.
“But there are ...” Sophie glanced around the room. More than half a dozen girls were in different stages of dress and undress. They bathed in the pool, they laughed, they fixed their hair. In addition to the soldier who had followed them to this room, three men guarded the doorways. Not soldiers dressed in green, but younger men in loose fitting skimpy blue tunics that displayed muscled arms and long legs.
“If you are cursed with modesty,” Liane said sharply, “I suggest you repair that trait quickly. Your husband will have none of it, I assure you.”
“I am not cursed with modesty,” Sophie replied. “But neither am I accustomed to displaying myself without restraint.”
“I suggest you become accustomed,” Liane said with a half-grin.
Definitely evil, Sophie decided.
When she did not make a move to remove her clothes, Liane lifted her hand. One of the half-naked men in blue headed their way.
“This woman is soon to be your new empress, Brus,” Liane said. Her eyes remained fixed on Sophie’s face, as if she were searching for...fear? Compliance, perhaps.
Brus, a handsome young man with his dark hair slicked back and caught in a knotted ribbon that matched his tunic, bowed crisply.
“Brus is a master-in-training,” Liane explained. “One of his jobs, during the training period, is to assist the ladies in undressing, if they so wish.”
Sophie had no idea what a master-in-training was, but she certainly understood the rest. “I am perfectly capable of undressing myself.”
“Prove it,” Liane snapped.
Sophie began to unbutton the shirt she wore, and Liane lifted her hand to order the young man to depart. He did, without uttering a word. Brus returned to the others, who were likely also masters-in-training. Whatever that might be.
Sophie turned her back and quickly disrobed. She stepped into the pool, descending down wide marble steps until she was immersed in the pool. The water was neither too cool nor too warm, but perfect. It was also nicely scented, with just a touch of fragrant oils.
She would prefer her own pond and the warmth of the morning sun, but she had to admit, the bath felt very, very good.
A bath such as this was a luxury, and she closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the sensation of water on her skin. Then she dipped beneath the water, soaking her face and her hair and then rising up slowly. If the sun shone down on her face, and Ariana was sleeping nearby, and Kane was with her, all would be perfect.
But nothing was perfect.
Three new women entered the room. They weren’t dressed in red like Liane, but wore robes in varying shades of blue. Their clothing was made of very thin material that hugged their bodies when they walked. At the side of the pool they dropped those robes casually, and then they walked down the steps to join Sophie in the water.
“These ladies will bathe you properly,” Liane instructed. She watched Sophie and the other girls with cold eyes.
“I am perfectly capable of bathing myself,” Sophie insisted.
“If you are to be wed to the emperor, then you must learn to behave like an empress. He does not want an unwashed peasant as his wife.”
“Then perhaps he should marry someone else,” Sophie snapped.
Liane smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I will tell the emperor of your reluctance. He will be distressed to learn that you have already forgotten that the only reason your daughter and your escort are welcomed guests in the palace is because you will soon be his wife and he wishes to please you.”
“No,” Sophie said sharply. “There is no need to speak to the emperor.” She lifted her arms slowly and stood there, ready to accept whatever indignities Liane offered.
The girls who joined Sophie in the pool fetched washcloths and scented soaps. They were young—all of them younger than Sophie, one of them surely no more than fourteen years old. They bathed their new charge gently, washed her hair and rinsed it clean. It was an odd feeling, to stand calmly while others took charge of such simple and personal chores.
For Ariana and Kane, Sophie kept reminding herself.
When that was done, the girls walked with Sophie from the pool. They climbed the wide steps together, and when the cool air hit her bare skin she shivered. Brus and his friends watched, interested but not leering.
Near the steps, a stack of towels sat. The girls who had bathed Sophie dried her thoroughly, then they rubbed a sweetly scented lotion on her skin until it felt like silk. She sat, and one of the girls very gently combed her hair while another rubbed lotion on her feet. Another collected a gown from a small stack of clothes in a far corner. When her hair had been combed and her feet had been rubbed with the balm, Sophie stood and allowed the girls to dress her, as meekly as she had allowed them to bathe her.
The white gown was made of such fine material, it felt airy against her skin, almost as if she were wearing nothing at all. The material was so thin, in proper light she’d most likely look as if she were wearing nothing.
But Sophie did not complain. Her cooperation kept Kane and Ariana safe, for now. She could not forget that.
She faced a triumphant Liane with her chin high and steady. “Now what?”
Liane smiled. “Now it’s time for you to meet the Masters of Level Three.”
He was back, the bastard. Kane lifted his head to look the soldier in the eye. Twice more since his initial visit the man had come into the cell to torture Kane. For some reason he could not kill the captive who had given him a nasty scar on his cheek, but he didn’t have any qualms about hitting. Repeatedly.
And talking. The soldier did not shut up as he hit and kicked at his prisoner in chains. He talked about how the rebels on the road had died. He talked about the heads he’d taken and the way the rebels had cried and screamed in defeat. He talked about severed heads posted around the city, hanging there until they rotted.
The soldier talked about how Kane had run away from it all. It might’ve been made to look like a fall, but they both knew that he was a coward who’d fled from the battle he knew he couldn’t win, leaving his friends and his brother to rot. The scarred soldier then contradicted himself, saying if he had known it was possible to survive such a fall, he would have climbed into that ravine and taken Kane’s head.
In between taunts and torture, the sentinel asked questions. What was his name? Where was Arik? Why had he come to Arthes? What seditious plans could he share in exchange for a cessation of blows?
Kane didn’t know if it was night or day, as the guard walked in once again. Apparently the sentinel hadn’t found his fists and booted feet to be entertaining enough; he carried a stick and a short knife with him this time.
“Hello, you fecking rebel. Ready to give me a name? I was told your name is Ryn. It seems your lady friend cares nothing for your secrets. Is that your given name or a family name? Ryn what? What Ryn? When you’re dead I might want to look up the family and pay my respects, but how can I do that with no more than Ryn to go by?”
Kane didn’t respond. Ryn? Sophie must’ve given them that bit of false information, remembering the warning not to mention his name.
“Your brother would’ve given me a name, by now,” the soldier said as he walked closer. “That cowardly poor excuse for a soldier—he had no business calling himself a rebel. He was a flea, easily stepped upon and squashed. As you will be, as soon as I have permission to step on you once and for all.”
Kane looked the sentinel in the eye. “I will step on you before I leave this place. What’s your name? I’d like to know what to call you, when I post your head outside the palace.”
The soldier lashed out with the stout stick, hitting Kane across the legs. The blow stung, and what was coming would no doubt be worse. But Kane didn’t cry out.
The soldier balanced the stick in one hand, the knife in the other. “I have no reason to keep my name a secret. It’s Nairn. Iaso Nairn. Slayer of rebels and for the past seven months keeper of the gate to Level Thirteen.” He leaned in close. “Your brother died too quickly. I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve been ordered not to kill you just yet. Your death will take a very long time, rebel.”
Kane flinched as Nairn cut his shirt away. “Yours will be quick,” he whispered as the soldier raised the stick again.
Nairn answered with a swipe of the knife tip across Kane’s cheek.
“Not so fecking pretty now, are you rebel?”
Sophie sat in a very comfortable chair in a room just down the hall from the bathing pool. At least there was no crowd around, this time. The sentinel who had been guarding her was posted outside the door. Inside the nicely furnished but gaudy room there was only Sophie and Liane, this red chair, a large bed covered in red and pink and littered with pillows of all sizes and a long table covered with feathers, and oils and things she could not identify.
There was a window, and the sun actually shone into the room. Sophie stared at that window for a long time, trying to draw the sun to her. She was so tired of the dark.
She did not dare to look at the chains that hung in one corner, or the whips that dangled nearby.
“You look almost presentable,” Liane said as she paced before Sophie’s chair. “And you no longer stink. The emperor will be pleased.”
Liane was not pleased; Sophie saw that much.
She might not be educated or worldly, but she knew why Liane hated her. She was obviously jealous, though to suggest such a thing would not be wise.
“I do not want to be empress,” Sophie said gently. “I only want my daughter and”—she almost said Kane’s name, but she caught herself—“my friend.”
“In this palace, no one cares what you want. In all of Columbyana, no one cares what you want.”
“You seem to have a very close relationship with the emperor. Perhaps you can convince him that I would make a poor empress and he should search elsewhere.” Sophie lifted her eyes expectantly. It simply made no sense for her to wed the emperor.
“Once Emperor Sebestyen decides he wants something, he doesn’t let anyone dissuade him.”
“But you—”
“I exist for his pleasure, not as advisor on matters that extend beyond the bed,” Liane snapped. “As you soon will, too. If you are accustomed to living in a place where others care what you think and what you feel, I suggest you come to terms with the fact that your life will not be that way here. You are here as a brood cow, to carry and deliver the emperor’s son.”
“It’s very unlikely that I will ever have—”
“Cease your whining and accept your lot.” Liane cut her off. There would be no assistance from this woman, even though she obviously disliked the idea of Sophie marrying the emperor. And she did not even care to hear that it was impossible for a Fyne witch to deliver a son.
“When will my father return?” He might be her only chance to get out of this situation.
“Weeks,” Liane answered. “Perhaps months. By the time you see your father, you will be empress.”
Sophie licked her lips. Somehow she had to find a way to escape. There was only one window to this room, and it was much too high off the ground to be a means of escape. Again she looked in that direction, hoping to draw strength from the sunshine. But the only strength she had to rely on was within herself.
“Why are we here?” Sophie asked, meeting Liane’s glare.
“The emperor will be a demanding husband. He will expect a bride who knows how to do more than lie on her back and spread her legs.”
Sophie’s mouth went dry.
“But your husband-to-be is much too impatient to be a teacher of any sort. He will expect you to come to your marriage bed trained in the ways of sexual pleasure.”
“Trained?” Sophie asked weakly.
“His most recent wife was not, and he found her naiveté quite annoying. To be honest, all four of the emperor’s brides were disappointing in bed. It is my job to see that you do not offer the same annoyance. Since you don’t have a moneyed and well-blooded family to protest, I can train you as if you were a concubine. In that way you can be the perfect bride for Emperor Sebestyen.” Liane’s eyes hardened. “You will be well-connected through Minister Sulyen, and well-trained by me.”
“I do not wish to be well-trained or well-connected,” Sophie whispered.
“No one cares about your wishes.”
An unfamiliar anger fluttered inside Sophie. “Why would any man care about the sexual pleasure of a brood cow?” Liane did not react at all to that question, much less answer.
“Drink this.” She offered a small crystal glass. No more than a tablespoon of a shimmering ruby drink sat in the bottom of that glass.
“What is it?”
“It won’t hurt you.”
“But—”
“Drink it.”
“I’d like to know what’s in this before I—”
“Drink it or your escort will pay for your stubbornness.”
Sophie closed her eyes and upended the glass. A sweet, thick liquid dribbled down her throat. Almost immediately she felt a strange heat spreading in her stomach like warm fingers.
Liane went to the door and opened it, and three men walked in.
“These are the Level Three Masters,” Liane said as she closed the door behind them.
Suddenly, master-in-training made sense. “Oh.” The heat from her stomach spread to her limbs.
Liane was bolstered by Sophie’s reticent reaction. She almost smiled.
The three men were dressed. Barely. Chests and flat bellies and long legs were revealed, while a mere scrap of fine blue fabric stretched across firm hips. Men in the Southern Province rarely wore kilts. They were farmers and shopkeepers, and preferred more traditional clothing. These Masters, like Ryn, wore practically nothing at all.
Why was it that she felt more threatened by these silent men than she had when Ryn had turned into a monster beneath her very hands?
“Catus is a skilled lover,” Liane said calmly. “I promise you, there’s not a more talented pair of hands in all of Columbyana.” A black-haired man with plenty of dark hair on his chest stepped forward. He was handsome, as they all were, but he was also brutishly large. Muscles made his arms and thighs bunch, and while he was not tall, his body was as hard as rock and massive. There were even rippled muscles across his torso. When introduced, he bowed much as Brus had done.
Liane stepped to the man in the middle. He was fair-haired and much prettier in the face than Catus, and he had very little hair on his trim torso. Put him in a gown and he could almost pass for a woman.
Almost. He was already aroused; the little skirt he wore did nothing to disguise his erection. He had muscles of his own, but nothing like Catus. He looked gentle, next to the larger man.
“Waryn,” Liana cooed, “why don’t you show the emperor’s bride your area of expertise.”
The pretty man stuck out his tongue and rolled it. It was, without a doubt, the longest tongue she had ever seen.
“Trust me,” Liane said softly. “He knows how to use it.” She patted him fondly on the butt before moving to the next man. His fair hair was oddly short, barely covering his ears. It curled there and over the nape of his neck. He was not as large as Catus or as pretty as Waryn, but he was taller than the other two and he had a masculine air that was almost magnetic.
“Vito has been a Master for many years. While they are all gifted lovers, he remains a favorite.” She boldly lifted his kilt to display the reason he was so favored. Vito was aroused like the others, but he was much larger.
Much.
Sophie closed her eyes. Her head spun. What had been in that glass? She felt out of control, a little dizzy...and her limbs were so warm.
Three talented, handsome men were here to pleasure her. To teach her to pleasure them. This was everything she’d decided she wanted a year ago, wasn’t it? The freedom to pleasure and be pleasured without the complications of love. Exploration and lust and the company of whatever man she might desire. No bonds, no commitments, no involvement of the heart.
Sophie opened her eyes quickly. “I can’t possibly sleep with any of these men. What if I become pregnant? The emperor wants an heir, I heard him say as much. He won’t take a chance—”
“There is no chance,” Liane interrupted. “Everyone on Level Three is incapable of reproducing. The Masters and the concubines all consume daily medications to prevent conception.”
“Oh. Still...” How could she explain to Liane that she was not like other women, that it was likely she would become pregnant, no matter what measures had been taken to prevent it?
“Your training will not begin with actual intercourse, in any case,” Liane said with a wave of her delicate hand. “There are so many other things to learn. Of course, if you beg sweetly and desperately enough I’m sure one or more of them will be willing to accommodate you. You will, after all, soon be empress, and they will desire your favor.”
Sophie licked her lips. “I won’t...” A wave of sensation shot through her body, as if Kane had laid his mouth on her neck, as if he had kissed her. “What’s happening to me?”
Liane explained, in that cold voice of hers. “The elixir you drank will help you relax, it will get rid of those nasty inhibitions you seem to carry around with you. Who knows? You might very well find this session quite enjoyable.”
