In the Palace of Lazar (4 page)

Months had passed filled with a leisure unfamiliar to Briar. Hours of the day were occupied with relaxation, idle chat, and a sense of sisterhood she hadn't expected. When the harem was not being groomed or trained, they were left to flourish as women. Extracurricular activities were encouraged. Voice lessons, sewing, reading, and writing were only a few of the hobbies offered. Briar had decided to learn how to play the guitar. Her instructor spent several hours a day teaching her the ways of the flamenco—music that originated in southern Spain many decades ago. Something about the historical romanticism pulled at her soul. The way her fingers plucked at the strings, how the shape of the instrument reminded her of the female body, and the way the sound filled a room, hypnotized her. Everything about the instrument called to her, everything except the actual lessons themselves. She dreaded her next one, awaiting the wrath of Mistress Tula.

"No, that is not how that works!" Mistress Tula shrieked as the lesson began. Her accent sounded very similar to Donte's.

Briar cringed as her instructor picked up her foot and slammed it down on the marble floor, making a slapping sound that echoed in the huge room. Briar sat back in her chair, holding her guitar close to her body. She wanted to ask why it didn't work, but she didn't want her to grow any angrier.

Her instructor, Mistress Tula, was skilled in the art of flamenco guitar, but at this point, she seemed to only be bullying her around instead of actually teaching her. In fact, Mistress Tula hadn't picked up a guitar once since her session started an hour ago.

Mistress Tula paced back and forth in front of her, muttering something under her breath. She wasn't much older than Briar, and her young, smooth skin crinkled as she furrowed her brow with frustration. Her dark hair was pulled in a loose braid, some of it falling into her piercing eyes. While Briar herself was barely 5-foot-2, Mistress Tula stood at a lofty 5-foot-10.

"I'm sorry," Briar said in a quiet voice. She hated knowing Mistress Tula was disappointed or angry with her. It was the same with any of the training performed at the harem. In her mind, the harem had given her so much and when she didn't excel at something, she felt ashamed.

Mistress Tula whipped around to face her. "You are
sorry
? Again, that is not how this works. You do not
apologize
in music. You make your statement with music and do not look back. Music is not an apology. It is the blood flowing in any musician's veins. Now, play that segment again and this time, do not be sorry."

Briar broke eye contact with her, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She raised her hand and launched into the segment of music, her body moving gently with the beat she devised.

She loved the sound of the music more than anything, and loved that she chose it as her extra-curricular activity at the harem, but what Briar hadn't known was how difficult her instructor was going to be on her. Mistress Tula was ruthless, often stopping Briar in the middle of a piece or even after a few seconds of playing. Sometimes, she wouldn't let her start playing until Briar achieved the perfect posture, and because Mistress Tula wasn't satisfied easily, that took up the entire, hour-long lesson.

But even while Mistress Tula was a strict disciplinarian to her in lessons, she found herself taking a liking to her. There was something about the way she moved, the way her eyes seemed to see into Briar's soul. She could see and understand the way the music put her in a trance.

"Stop, stop, stop," Mistress Tula shouted, waving her hands.

Briar immediately cut off, her eyes growing wide. "What did I do wrong this time?" she asked, surprised at how bold her voice sounded. In her lessons, it was always, "What did I do wrong?" not "What did I do right?"

Mistress Tula stared at her with a cold gaze. "First of all, a six-year-old's posture is better than yours right now. You have got to sit up properly and grip the guitar correctly, or else you will not play this music as it should be played. You are not giving it justice. Respect the music."

Briar gritted her teeth together to keep from snapping back at her. She was always so harsh on her, and Briar expected the world to end before Mistress Tula ever gave her somewhat of a compliment.

"Second of all, you missed several notes," she went on as she began pacing again. Her favorite thing to do during Briar's lesson was pace; she hardly ever took a moment to sit down in her chair.

Briar let her shoulders slump and she listened to Mistress Tula list her flaws and mistakes. At this point, she hardly took offense to them. The woman had constantly insulted her and her playing ever since she started lessons, so she had grown accustomed to it.

"Now, are you ready to start playing again?" she asked.

Briar nodded mutely.

"What are you waiting for?" Mistress Tula demanded. "Start playing!"

Briar brought her shaking hands up to the guitar and carefully picked at the strings, fumbling through a line of notes and rhythms. With each note she missed or rhythm she messed up, she cringed and knew the anger was probably bubbling up under Mistress Tula's skin.

"Stop," she moaned, grabbing her head with her hands. "What are you doing? You have been taking lessons with me for awhile now and you
still
play like a beginner. My other beginners could probably show you up if they were here right now."

Briar sat there, a lump lodged in her throat. All she did was look forward. If she looked at her, she knew she would end up bursting into tears.

Mistress Tula demanded that she start playing again, making sure she got the notes and rhythms right. She jumped back into the music.

Normally, playing this kind of music would have set her soul free, and every time she practiced it did, but with Mistress Tula it felt like she couldn't express herself at all. It felt like Mistress Tula was expressing
her
vision through Briar's hands.

For the next hour, it was a trial and error process. Every time she missed a note or rhythm, Mistress Tula snapped at her or forced her to play that phrase over again. With each insult she threw at her, Briar became more and more unstable, the urge to quit lessons growing stronger—if that were even a possibility.

For the fifteenth time, she stopped her and forced her to play a certain phrase over again.

"Are you ready to start playing like an intermediate student?" she demanded.

"Are you ready to stop insulting me?" Briar stopped the moment the words came from her lips. That had been bubbling on the tip of her tongue and had just come out without her having control over it. Her heart stopped… she knew she was in trouble.

Even without looking at Mistress Tula, she knew that she had stopped pacing and was glaring at her with her delicate hands folded behind her back.

"What did you say?" she asked slowly, making the hairs on the back of Briar's neck prickle.

Finally, she looked at her and made eye contact, even though she wanted to run straight out of the large room.

"I'm ready to start being treated as a musician," she said slowly, her voice shaking a little. "Battering me with all the insults I've already heard before won't make me any better." What was she doing? Did she want to be spanked?

Mistress Tula leaned back on the heels of her feet and glanced up at the ceiling. "You are a feisty one, and very, very foolish." With a fluid motion of her hand, she pointed to the corner in the far right of the room. "Go stand with your nose in the corner. Now!"

Briar gently placed her guitar in the open case, and stood on shaking legs. She made her way to the corner, trying not to look at Mistress Tula standing with her arms crossed against her chest.

"When you reach the corner, remove your silks," she ordered. "I will go fetch Donte to issue your discipline. Do not move an inch."

Briar did as she asked without hesitation. She was in enough trouble as it was. The idea of Donte coming sent a panic through her. What would he do? She hadn't been spanked since that first time when she arrived at the palace, and the idea of being punished again sent a terrifying shiver up her spine.

Her body trembled as she stared at the corner of the wall, listening closely to any sound. The wait was agonizing. Standing nude, in punishment, made her feel extremely vulnerable and tears threatened to fall. She didn't want to disappoint Donte. She stood long enough that she grew tired. She adjusted her weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting with her hands out of nervous energy. Just as she thought she would go mad standing there, she heard footsteps enter the room. The heavy sound of boot hitting marble made it clear that Donte had entered the room.

"Briar," his voice sliced through the silent air.

"Yes, sir." She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She remained facing the corner.

"Mistress Tula informs me that you have been disrespectful. Is this true?"

"Yes, sir." She didn't truly believe the words, but arguing would only make it worse.

"Please turn around and face me."

Briar did as he asked and stood with her hands placed in front of her body. Realizing she stood nude before him, about to be spanked, caused her lip to quiver. She quickly bit it to try to conceal her fear. She stared at the ground so she wouldn't have to look at his and Mistress Tula's glares.

"Mistress Tula," he said, "please leave me alone with Briar."

Mistress Tula nodded and walked out of the room without saying a word.

When the door clicked behind her, Donte walked over to a chair and sat down. He patted his lap. "Come here."

Briar had to will her body to move toward her impending doom. Step after step, she inched her way toward him. She stood before him and made eye contact.

He patted his lap again. "Sit on my lap."

She paused, taken aback that he didn't ask her to lie across it. She sat on his lap as he commanded, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Do you feel you deserve a spanking? I want the truth."

Briar took a deep breath. "No, sir. I don't believe I do."

"Why is that?"

"I was just speaking my mind," Briar muttered. "Mistress Tula can be… infuriating during a lesson."

Donte nodded. "She is firm. She demands perfection."

"Yes, sir. I try my best. I do. I practice for hours every day." Her lip began to quiver again.

"I want you to play for me."

She stood from his lap and made her way to her guitar. Without another word, she launched into the song, her fingers working expertly on the strings. She continued to play, never looking at Donte. She just played, and played, and played, letting the music fill her body and tingle the tips of her fingers.

She played until the room was filled with the harmonious sounds of the guitar and for once, it actually sounded good to her. When she reached the end of the song, she stopped and the sound echoed against the walls and high ceiling.

When the music faded, all Briar could hear was the sound of her pulse rushing in her ears. She knew that Donte had watched her every move, but she didn't pay attention to that fact. Nor the fact that she played completely nude.

"That was beautiful," he said quietly.

Briar snapped her head to the side to look at him and found his eyes and expression soft. "Really?"

"You have never looked more beautiful," he added, making Briar blush at the compliment.

"I want to hear another song. I want you to approach this piece with fire in your heart and ice on your mind. You need to have passion, but you also need to focus and concentrate. I can see you get lost in the music, but then you lose focus on the skill. No doubt Mistress Tula's frustration."

Briar nodded as she started to look over the sheet music of a piece she had been practicing relentlessly, fingering each note as she came across it. She couldn't help but feel Donte's burning gaze sear on her skin and her hands grew a little shaky.

Donte rose from his chair, moving behind her. He gently placed his hands over hers and Briar wanted to jump back. His hands felt like fire burning the backs of her hands. He leaned forward, their faces inches apart, and Briar did everything to keep from turning her head to look at him.

Carefully, Donte guided her hands over the correct notes and held them steady, plucking out the notes to the rest of the song. When they reached the end, he stood back and returned to his chair, leaving Briar in a daze. All she could focus on was the thick aroma of his essence.

"Now you try," he prompted, nodding at her.

Briar chewed on her lower lip, but launched into the song slowly, picking at the notes and fumbling in a few places. As she progressed through the song, making mistake after mistake, she wondered if he would yell at her like Mistress Tula
.

Finally, she reached the end of the piece and sat back, the tears already burning the backs of her eyes. She awaited his outburst.

But nothing harsh came from his mouth. All he did was lean forward to rest his elbows on his knees and say, "Very nice. It is rough around the edges, but with polish you will have a jewel."

Briar blinked, hoping he wouldn't notice the tears in her eyes, and she let out a long breath. "You think so?"