Tales of the Southern Kingdoms (One Volume Edition) Page 3

  "That's why women cover themselves in Akkora," he snapped.

  "Indeed," she smiled pleasantly. "But if you were born in the Queendom of Maadre, you'd have to wear a Modesty Cloth all over you great body whenever you left the house."

  "I don't show myself in public," he grumbled. "I'm a semi-god, few elected get to see my face."

  "So slaves are luckier than commoners?" she teased. "I'm lucky, then. It would be a pity to hide your looks."

  "Stop behaving like a whore!"

  "There's no such thing in my country, although we do have Public Men who sometimes behave like you're saying."

  "You are in Arquon, now, and are my slave!"

  "Yes, I understood that the first time I was told. And I seem to understand that you've been spoiled by loads of passive slaves who adored you and did your bidding without hesitation. I'm sorry, but I'm a little more selfish and would love to find some pleasure myself in this relationship."

  "I am your master and you are my slave," he said, determined. "You should do my bidding and give me pleasure. I decide how or when, not you."

  "I know that. If you'd let me..."

  "No!" That game was too dangerous. That slave had something that scared him. She looked like she could destroy him with her voracious kisses and shameless hands. Maybe she was a member of the Sect: reports said that they abducted people from villages close to their shelter and used them in endless orgies of sex. Maybe she had lied about her origins, in spite of her foreign accent. "I'm already dealing with a sex-crazed sect in my own kingdom, I believe it's enough!"

  She shrugged, averting her eyes. "Fine," she said. "Don't be surprised if one day I disappear. I'm easily bored."

  "You already tried to escape and failed," he reminded her with a frown.

  "Because I didn't really want to escape from you yet," she replied. "Why do you keep me if you don't even like me? Is it a matter of principle or what?"

  "You're a gift from my brother-in-law," he said proudly. "It wouldn't be fair to him to resell or release you."

  "Ah. So we're stuck." She shook her head with a sigh. "If only..." she whispered.

  "What?" he snapped.

  She stared at him. "If only you got off that pedestal of yours and decided to be a man instead of a semi-god..." she sounded almost threatening. What did she mean anyway? Of course he was also a man, who did his duty to the queen and went to Meghana for comfort...

  She averted her eyes again and his heart slowed down. How could he punish her? He doubted the whip would do much, except ruining her body. And she had a great body, after all.

  Could he allow her to touch him like she seemed so eager to do? That was not normally allowed, though. He had let Meghana show off her courtesan skills once or twice after years in his Garden, but she was especially trained to know how to please him. This foreign woman knew nothing of their customs. And he didn't even know her name.

  "What are you called?" he asked.

  "Bekah," she answered, absent-minded.

  He was sick of standing by the door at safe distance. She didn't seem ready to bite him. He went to the bed and climbed it.

  "Bekah, I will not release you," he said. "Not even if you refuse to keep me entertained."

  "I offered to entertain you, but you ordered me to take my hands and eyes off of you," she scoffed.

  "Well, I changed my mind," he replied. "Show me how you entertain men in your country."

  She glanced at him, puzzled, then slowly smiled. "Well, first of all, our men are trained to please us, and not the contrary," she said. "But we trained them, so we know what pleases them..."

  "You're the slave, I'm supposed to train you," he grumbled.

  "I can play the virgin, if you wish. How will you please me?"

  He had no idea. He only knew he badly wanted to kiss her and make love to her all night. Talk about punishments...

  ***

  Bekah knew she had him when he didn't punish her for her escape attempt. She liked him a lot and really hoped to get to his heart somehow – although that would probably mean he'd never set her free.

  But with him she might start to enjoy life in a male-ruled country. He wasn't as arrogant as he had looked at first and seemed to be able to care for his bed partners. Of course Meghana now had real reasons to be jealous of her, but she didn't care.

  She could be charming when she wanted to. She could be sensual. She could be curious to learn a different culture and willing to share hers. So they started to know each other better, both physically and mentally, sharing experiences and stories, in bed or in the quiet garden under the envious eyes of the other women.

  She loved his smile and his laughter and the fact that he never raised his voice. She knew he had a wife, a fifteen-year-old heir, and many lovers, but she didn't care, because she knew also that every day spent with him tied him to her. He wasn't aware of it yet, but he belonged to her, body and soul.

  What that meant for her, she wasn't sure yet. She had seduced a foreign king, why? To regain her freedom? To show she could do it? Or because she really wanted him from the bottom of her heart?

  Maybe she had called on herself more trouble that she could handle after all. What had possessed her to leave the safety of the Queendom of Maadre to go looking for trouble? But then back home there weren't such handsome men such as King Kushan of Arquon, or his brother-in-law Arjun of Rajendra.

  Those exotic beauties and different cultures had driven her away from her home country to explore, looking for less subdued men. Of course she had also met tricky bastards, that's how she had found herself prisoner of a slaves trader. She had been drugged, but nor really abused.

  And now in the royal palace of Arquon she was treated like the Aristocrat she had never been. She was confined to the Garden, but now that he visited her every day, she wasn't so bored anymore. She could actually start liking her new home as much as she liked her 'owner', his company and his touch.

  What would the future hold for her? She didn't care anymore. She had been restless most of her life, and now she seemed to have found some kind of peace. And a man she could watch forever without getting bored. She liked to listen to his sweet language and hear about his pampered life. And then in bed he could be as wild as her and they seemed to be always on the same wavelength, so much so that she even sang to him some songs of her childhood, even if he couldn't understand the words.

  Sometimes she wished she could see him in his stately throne room, with his council, with his queen and with his children. She was curious about the many hours he spent away from her and kept thinking about him and thanking the Goddess for putting him on her path. It wasn't an easy relationship, but she had never been interested in those.

  ***

  "Meghana told me you have a new favorite," Queen Sharmila said. She was bedridden by her pregnancy and sickly looking. Kushan still visited her regularly while he waited for their fifth child to come to life before resuming his bed duties with her. She didn't sound jealous – never was – but very curious. She knew Meghana had owned his heart for at least five years, and in fact she might be happy to hear the favorite had now a rival. Kushan and his wife had never spoken of love and he could say she was also his best friend.

  "I don't know," he admitted. "Bekah is different from any woman I've met so far. Maybe because she's a foreigner coming from a country ruled by women..."

  "A country ruled by women?" Her eyes were wide open with wonder and surprise. "Can I meet her?"

  "After you give birth," he said.

  She took his hand, a pleading look on her tired, pale face. "Kushan, I'm weak, I might not survive this time," she said. "Bring her to my room before I pass away."

  "You will be all right," he told her. He might not love her, but was very fond of her – he had sired four surviving children with her after all, and a fifth was on the way. And she was the perfect queen, beautiful and supportive. "You'll have the best midwives and doctors of the kingdom, as usual."

  "Kushan,
I want to meet her now," she insisted gently.

  "Why?" he wondered. He had never seen her so eager to meet any of his bed slaves.

  "Because you love her," she said. "It's in your eyes and your voice when you speak of her. You never were this dreamy when you mentioned Meghana."

  "I am not..." He couldn't continue, nor sustain her eyes. His queen was wiser than her years. Could it be she had seen beyond his confusion and mixed feelings towards the foreign slave?

  He found himself thinking of Bekah at the strangest times. In the Council Room, with his advisers speaking of the latest evil-doing of the Sect, his mind wandered to her Goddess, not bloodthirsty nor maternal, simply an all-powerful queen that had allowed women to be in charge of a huge country.

  And when he visited his children – Neeraj, Naina, Harish and Meena – while waiting for the fifth to come to life, he wondered what her children were like, how she had educated them in that strange country where only female counted.

  She had told him she had had three surviving children, two girls and a boy. All were at her mother's house, the boy training to be a Public Man, the girls following their inclinations: one wanted to be a Huntress like her mother, the other was very much an Artist instead. All strange names for strange professions unheard of in his palace or his country.

  And for the first time in his life the Royal Palace felt like a prison, especially because he hadn't left it since becoming king. As the Prince Heir, he had visited Akkora, Rajendra and Lakeshi, but after marrying Sharmila he had settled. He had taken her to meet his sister in Rajendra, then his father had passed away, and as king he was prisoner of his power. He had to cover himself outside his own apartments and the Council Room, he couldn't go anywhere unattended except to the Concubines Garden, and he was watched closely at almost anytime by either servants or advisers, or slaves and lovers.

  And Bekah spoke of a free life of travels without duties, learning languages for pleasure to explore the world. His crown was heavier every day.

  ***

  Neeraj came with a moan of pleasure, then yelped in pain when Ramesh bit his earlobe. He opened his eyes to look at his lover and lost himself again.

  He woke up still sore and blissfully happy for his magic journey to the hidden city of the Sect, in the bedroom of Ramesh, the lustful High Priest who drove him crazy with his hands and his lips.

  He was the prince heir of Arquon, but his sexuality had been awakened by a man who was his father's age but had thoroughly seduced him. Neeraj looked forward to retire for bed every night, so he could join his secret lover through a summoning spell.

  Ramesh never spoke of love, of course, but he knew so much about lust, pleasure and pain, Neeraj thought his lifetime wouldn't be enough to try it all. Of course he had to swear to keep his new pass-time secret and was glad his father hadn't sent any of his slaves or concubines to take care of him. He knew by now he wouldn't stand a woman's touch, he was too enamored with Ramesh. At fifteen all he wanted was experiment, discover and enjoy himself.

  Being five years older than any of his surviving siblings meant he started isolating himself from them during the day. As prince heir he didn't have a friend to talk to, therefore he had thrown all of himself in the passionate, secret affair with Ramesh.

  The High Priest had told him that to worship his Bloodthirsty Goddesss he didn't really have to shed any blood. All he had to do was have sex and enjoy it, with men, women, whoever was willing to share the passion of the body. Neeraj preferred Ramesh, but had 'played' also with other members of the Sect, both male and female.

  At first he had thought he was dreaming, but he was slowly realizing those wild orgies were really happening. Ramesh knew spells that instantly took him to the Sect's city or back to Zarquon, leaving him exhausted but happy.

  Then his father summoned him, and they were alone in his cabinet. It was probably time for that 'talk' Ramesh had mentioned, and that he had been expecting anyway.

  "Neeraj, as soon as your latest sibling is born, you shall say good-bye to your mother and start traveling the southern courts in search of a bride," the king said.

  "I don't want to leave Zarquon," he replied, afraid to lose his contact with Ramesh. He wasn't sure how far the High Priest's spells could reach.

  "It is your duty as Prince Heir, I did the same at about your age," his father chided. "Before you leave, I need to know if I should send Meghana to your room, so you can become a man."

  "I am already a man, father," he said proudly. He wanted to add that he also preferred men, but he had promised Ramesh not to tell anyone. Besides, that might impeach his succession.

  The king stared at him, surprised, then pleased. "Well, then, I'm glad to hear this. Remember you won't be able to marry a lower rank woman, and your bride shall be a virgin princess."

  "I am not in love with any woman," he assured, which was true.

  "Good." His father nodded his approval. "This is settled, then."

  Not really, Neeraj thought.

  He was still a little anxious when Ramesh came that night.

  "What's wrong, my beautiful prince?" the High Priest caressed his hair, looking concerned.

  "My father wants me to travel the kingdoms to find my bride," he pouted. "I don't want to go. I don't want to lose you."

  "You will not lose me," Ramesh promised, pulling him closer and holding him in his arms. "I will always be able to find you."

  He hungrily kissed him, and Neeraj abandoned himself in his arms. For the first time, they stayed in his bedroom and he had to hold his moans of pleasure to avoid alarming the servants sleeping next door.

  ***

  Bekah was surprised to see Kushan fully clothed instead of wearing his usual night caftan. And he was also earlier than usual.

  "Come with me," he said offering his hand.

  She followed him outside the Concubines Garden, through a long corridor with marble-laced windows on one side, up a marble staircase and into a stately room where a very pregnant woman lay on a canopied bed.

  Puzzled, she stared at him, wondering what was going on. Smiling, he motioned her forward.

  "My wife and queen, please meet Bekah the foreigner," he said. 'The foreigner', not 'the slave'. And he was introducing her to his wife. She didn't know what to make of it, but she saw the queen smile and open welcoming arms.

  "Please, come and sit by my side," she said with a frail voice. Intrigued, Bekah obeyed, observing with curiosity the mother of Kushan's children.

  The queen's beauty was fading fast, and after almost sixteen years of marriage and four surviving children she looked quietly spent.

  Bekah didn't feel any jealousy in the queen's voice, and even if Kushan was present and mostly silent, she felt natural opening her heart to his wife and answer her curious but gentle questions.

  She could be friend with that woman, who had more class and kindness than Meghana and the others all together. They exchanged mothers' talk and eventually the little princes and princesses came to visit their bedridden mother.

  Bekah noticed the heir, Neeraj, was a little uptight even with his own sibling, but the others were adorable, especially three-year-old Meena who stuck to her father who now looked sweeter than ever. Harish, the ten-year-old second son, seemed divided between his older brother and his mother, and seven-year-old Naina was the portrait of her mother.

  Then the queen clapped her hands and requested quiet, so nannies and servants took away the children and brooding prince heir and Bekah bowed deeply her good-bye, impressed. The queen smiled at her weakly and shooed her off, closing her eyes with a sigh.

  Bekah followed Kushan back to her room. "Thank you," she told him, serious. "I didn't dare hope to meet your family."

  "Sharmila wanted to meet you," he replied. "And she won't need me tonight."

  "Won't she?" She raised her eyebrows. "And you expect me to take off all that clothes you're wearing? How many do you have? I wouldn't even know where to begin! Are you always this dressed up during
the day?"

  "You should see me during special ceremonies," he chuckled, pulling her closer. "Anyway, I shouldn't be too hard to undress." He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

  "You take off one piece of clothing and then I do the same," she said. "We'll see who gets naked first." She smiled mischievously. "One piece at the time. You start."

  He grinned at the new game and slowly complied, but by the end of the striptease both were ripping off each other's last garments while trying to devour each other with kisses.

  ***

  Kushan had never been head over heels in love with his wife, but he respected her and considered her his best friend. She was aware of his male needs and hadn't been jealous of any of the concubines and slaves of the Garden. In fact Meghana was more possessive than Sharmila and her tantrums and jealousy towards Bekah had turned him completely off her.

  Bekah was more like Sharmila, wild in bed, but without the fiery jealousy Meghana possessed and his heart was more and more filled with thoughts for the foreign slave.

  Then Sharmila gave birth to a little healthy boy who was called Mahesh. But she never recovered from the delivery and died peacefully in her bed, holding Kushan's hand. Her last words were, "Find a new queen. Bekah would do."

  They had met only once, but Sharmila had chosen her successor. Not the most obvious choice (Meghana), but the woman she felt was better for him (Bekah). She must have loved him more than he ever thought, and he regretted not telling her how happy he had been with her. He realized it when he lost her, so he decided from that moment on he'd express his feelings with words.

  It wasn't easy as he had been taught men don't bare their hearts, especially not him, a semi-god superior to any living woman, including other princesses. He should never bow to anyone, but when Sharmila died he found himself on his knees, sobbing in Bekah's lap.

  She let him vent his sorrow, caressing his hair, not saying a word. She looked serious and knowing, as if she really understood his loss.

  "I was quite fond of one of my men," she admitted later, when he had calmed down and she had cuddled him for a couple of hours. "But he died, so I know exactly how you feel."