A Lotus for the Regent (14 page)

Ajalira's mouth
twisted wryly. If this lord knew her true history, he would never lower himself
to speak with her. “No, thank you. I have no mind to dance.”

The Seranimesti
swallowed his shock well, but Ajalira noticed it. He had probably never been
refused before.

As soon as the
Ausir lord had gone, Ajalira permitted herself the indulgence of looking at the
Regent again. This time he was talking with the Lord Admiral, and she observed
the pair closely. The Lord Admiral was Saerileth's master, and Ajalira wondered
how Kamen felt about that. She saw nothing beyond warm friendship in their
looks, however, and suddenly she understood.

Kamen must have
loved Saerileth. It made perfect sense. He had loved that perfect, full-blown
Lotus. Her human gorgeousness had captured the Regent, and he had lost her to
the Lord Admiral.

Ajalira shook
her head. The Lord Admiral, Darien Kesandrahn, was a good-looking man, massive
out of all proportion, with an open look to his face that Ajalira could
appreciate. But he was nothing like the Regent. Kamen had a lithe grace that
pleased Ajalira's Ausir eyes more than the laughing, gigantic Admiral ever
could.

Suddenly Ajalira
realized that the Regent was not with the Admiral any longer.

“
My lady?” Kamen bowed, Sunjaa fashion, and he held out his hand to
her.

My lady.
It was her proper title, one she had never thought to hear again,
and on Kamen's lips it was sweeter than any other word, excepting only her own
name.

Ajalira laid her
hand in Kamen's, only then realizing that he meant to direct her to the open
floor where dancers were already gathering. She did not allow herself to
hesitate. The Regent honored her above all other women here, for she had not
seen him dance even once.

“
Thank you, Your Grace.” Ajalira murmured the words as she took up
her place two paces in front of him. The music filled the hall, and her eyes
widened. She knew this music. It was traditional Sunjaa music, but the dance
was a sensual one.

“
Only 'Your Grace'”? The Regent's black eyes were darker than night.
He put one hand on each of her hips and pulled her toward him with an animal
grace that made Ajalira's heart pound in her breast.

As her body was
pulled flush with his, Ajalira went up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.
“Kamen.” She laid her hands on his shoulders and, as the dance required, slid
her hands down his arms. When she reached his hands, she pushed them away and
stepped forward, turning her back to him.

Once more his
hands, rougher than she would have expected of a nobleman's hands, were on her
hips, pulling her toward him. She was leaning against him, his chest to her
back, and she could feel the raised scars on his skin. She leaned her head back
on his shoulder, and he turned his lips toward her mouth, and, as the dance
required, they both turned their faces away before their lips touched. She slid
to the left, he to the right, and then it was her turn to touch. As he stood
with his back to her, she went to him and pressed her breasts against him,
following his steps as he took two long strides forward and three back.

When he whirled
her back to face him, her chest heaved. His face was so near her own, and his
lissome movements, light as a fencer's, were unbearably beautiful. He held her
against him as they strode forward three times and back twice. His phallus had
risen beneath his loincloth, and Ajalira could feel it sliding along her mound
as they danced. Its thickness was between her thighs as he lifted her off her
feet for three steps, and Ajalira loved the feel of it. She wanted more. She
wanted the Regent.

“
Kamen.” She said his name like a prayer, and he smiled at her, a
smile so sweet and yet so sad that she wanted to kiss away every pain he had
ever known.

He set her on
her feet, and as they went through all the steps again, she felt an ache begin
low in her belly, a desire for the Regent, a longing for him to claim her as
his own.

The second
movement of the song began, and Ajalira held herself motionless as Kamen stood
before her, pressing his body against hers. Then, just as the music rose in its
crescendo, he leaned to the left as Ajalira leaned right, each facing away from
the other, even as their waists pressed together. Again she felt Kamen's thick
phallus pushing against her, and she almost lost her place in the dance. In
three quick beats, she and Kamen switched sides, and then they whirled and
stood back to back.

Three steps
forward, three back. She felt the Regent's taut buttocks pressing against her
back, and she dropped, as the dance required, to her knees. As she bowed her
head, Kamen stepped around her, then stopped, leaning her head to his waist.
She saw the stiff, dark rod tenting his loin-cloth, and her hands on his thighs
trembled.

Then she was
pulled to her feet and pressed against Kamen once more, his arms locked around
her waist as the music faded.

But when the
dance was finished, Ajalira turned around in Kamen's arms, staring at the
tattered remains of the coiling water serpent on his breast. He deserved
better.

“
Your Grace,” she said, and, extricating herself, she fled the hall.

Tears blinded
her as she ran. She had dared to raise her eyes to the Sunjaa Regent. She, a
whore and slave for years, had looked upon the mightiest man in the west with
desire. How could that shame ever be redressed? He had been kind to her, good
to her, shown her as much courtesy as if she were a Queen, and she had repaid
him with such forward arrogance as to want him?

She slammed the
door of her chambers tight behind her and went to her bed. She sat in the
center of it, rocking backward and forth, clutching her knees. She hated her
old life, and she wanted only to see Kamen's face. But how could she? She had
been a Lotus.

A Lotus.

Ajalira looked
at the tattoo on her forearm, and she hated it. Her precious Tamari knife had
been taken from her when she was on the block, but the Regent had seen to it
that she had been given another blade. It was slim and elegant, sharp as even
Ausir steel, and in its handle were set two gleaming aquamarines.

Ajalira slashed
at the tattoo, sobbing, wishing that she could obliterate her shame as easily
as she could the mark of it.

“
He used to wear that blade aboard ship.”

The voice shocked
Ajalira from her mutilation, and she looked up to see Saerileth standing in her
doorway.

“
Go away.” Ajalira rose, heedless of her still-streaming tears, and
brandished her bloody blade. “Now.”

“
You would never get to touch me with it.” Saerileth curled up on
Ajalira's bed with a catlike movement that sent jealousy stabbing through
Ajalira's middle. “The Regent used to wear that when he sailed with my master.
It is Sunjaa belief that aquamarines ward off seasickness.”

“
Why are you here?” asked Ajalira. She knew that Saerileth was
probably right; that blade would never connect with the Lotus's flesh.

“
I am here to tell you that you are either the cruelest or the most
cowardly woman in Arinport.” Saerileth's face was as impassive as ever. “Why
would you treat the Regent this way?”

“
What way?” Ajalira laid the still-bloody dagger on the table at the
head of the bed. “And what is it to you?”

“
You fear concubinage,” said Saerileth. “But you know nothing of it.
You think it is slavery, just as you consider a Lotus a slave. But it is not. I
am concubine to the Lord Admiral, and he loves me. I am beloved, and our sons
are acknowledged by Sunjaa law.”

Ajalira opened
her mouth to deny Saerileth's words, but closed it at once. She
had
wondered about concubinage, and the realization that she had thought so much of
the Regent brought the blood back to her cheeks. If she did not stop blushing,
she feared that she would faint.

“
Some peoples acknowledge multiple wives; others acknowledge divorce.
Your people, Ajalira, acknowledge neither. I suspect it has to do with the
Ausir lack of children, but that is irrelevant at this point. The Regent is
Sunjaa, and they are a mighty people, a nation greater than yours or mine. Here
is where you dwell. Here is where the Regent dwells. Do you mistrust the
Regent? Do you think that he would mistreat you?”

“
No.” Ajalira whispered the word. “He is above that.”

“
Do you think he would take a wife to place above you?” Saerileth
here broached a fear that Ajalira had never wanted to admit.

“
He would deserve a wife to place above me.” Ajalira shook her head.

“
Should that not be for the Regent to decide?” Saerileth did not
smile, but the lines of her face relaxed slightly. “You ought not to let pride,
false or otherwise, keep you from accepting your lover.” Saerileth leaned
forward on her knees and pulled Ajalira to a sitting position on the bed. “Nor
should you allow fear to do it.”

“
Fear?” Ajalira half raised her hand to strike Saerileth for the very
idea. “I am Tamari. I fear nothing.”

“
Liar.” Saerileth was off the bed and on her feet. “You fear the
Regent.” The Lotus's laughter was cold and, Ajalira had no doubt, entirely
forced. “Of all men in the world, you fear the only one deserving to be named
in the same breath with my master.”

Ajalira stood,
too. She wanted to throttle Saerileth. “If you love him so much, why didn't you
become
his
concubine?”

Saerileth looked
up at Ajalira. “The Regent loved once before. He loved one who could not return
his love, and thus he dwells alone. He is my friend, and I could, for his sake,
gut you here. If you have not the courage to tell him of your love, then you do
not deserve him.”

“
I know that I do not, but I am not afraid!” Ajalira did start to
slap Saerileth, but the Lotus deftly parried the blow.

“
The Regent will not ever speak of love to you, Ajalira, not unless
you speak to him first. He has not only been broken-hearted, but he is acutely
aware of his own place. He knows that he is the Regent. If he commanded, you
would have to obey. He would never wish to place even the slightest pressure on
you, for if you once became his he would demand
all
.”

A shiver of
anticipation ran through Ajalira at those words.

“
Yes, Ajalira. The Regent is a most demanding lover, and he would
have all of you—
if
you came to him. But precisely because he wants you
so much, he will not take, not until you have freely given to him.”

Ajalira's eyes
grew wide with horror. Saerileth spoke with confidence, with intimate
knowledge, of the Regent and his predilections. “It was you!”

Saerileth
laughed again. “And if I were the one the Regent had loved? Would you leave him
still to long for me, for one he
cannot
have? The Regent is a good man,
a noble man, and if you leave him to suffer for love of you—I will be your
enemy.”

“
You're a monster!” Ajalira reached for her blade again and slashed
out at Saerileth. Ajalira knew that her blow was good, strong, and true. But
somehow Saerileth was not there. The wily Lotus had tumbled away faster than
any warrior Ajalira had ever seen.

“
No, Ajalira. I am merely a woman who learned not to fear love.”
Saerileth's eyes of placid blue fixed Ajalira and pierced her. “I will forgive
these insults, for I acknowledge I have goaded you. But look at yourself. Can
you deny what I have said? You clutch your shame to you as though you loved it.
But your ways are not the only ways. Though you need not change them for
yourself, you can at least look beyond them. It is not only yourself whom you
injure, you know. It is the Regent, too.”

Saerileth then
bowed, Zenji-fashion, and let herself out.

Ajalira looked
at the blade again. It had been Kamen's gift to her, and it was a beautiful
dagger.

“
Kamen.” She pressed the blade to her lips and kissed it, caring
nothing for the blood that stained her mouth. It was only then that she
remembered the pain in her forearm from the cuts she had made. She closed her
eyes, and Kamen's face appeared in her thoughts. She understood something more
of the sorrow that was the only softness in the Regent. Everything else about
him was hard, sturdy, unyielding. But he was alone, as alone as she herself.

How long she sat
there, staring at nothing and thinking of Kamen, she did not know, but then a
strong rap came at the door.

“
My lady?”

It was the
Regent's voice, and Ajalira dropped the dagger, darted to the door, and jerked
it open.

“
Are you all right?” asked Kamen, and the tenderness in his voice
touched Ajalira to her core. His was the gentleness of a lion, one whose claws
were not the less powerful for being velveted.