The Harem Master (44 page)

Jove chuckled. "I am beginning to truly appreciate why Kagan never liked you but did not dare be rid of you. I am puzzled why Bulut wanted you. In my experience, he prefers his toys with empty heads. Perhaps he hoped to beat it out of you. Who can say? It hardly matters now. But back to your original question: the concubines of Tavamara are whispered about and coveted the world over. As I said, even Rittu cannot compare to the unique perspective and training here. And the famous Harem Master, remote as he is beautiful… You'll make a fine gift for his Holy Majesty Emperor Rane. We'll see how long that arrogance of yours lasts when you are put in your proper place."

"I have always known my place," Demir replied, spreading his hands, chain pulling tight across his groin, straining the fabric, already stretched and torn, and causing it to fall slightly to bare more of the flowers tattooed across his abdomen all the way down to his thighs. Jove's eyes dipped, the anger in them wavering briefly. "Kidnapping me and forcing me into the bed of your emperor won't change that."

"That is the arrogance that needs to be beaten out of you," Jove said, finally surging away from his desk. He stalked across the room, wrapped one large hand around Demir's throat, and
squeezed
. Demir could feel the hard press of his ring, the bite of his nails. He jerked as they broke skin and hot blood began to trickle down his neck. "You're a polished whore; your place is wherever you're told to be."

"Let him go!" Sabah snarled, and Demir heard the rattle of chains, the scuff of feet, in the moment before something slammed into them, sending him and Jove to the ground.

Jove bellowed and the nearby guards rushed forward, hauled Sabah off of them, and dragged him back. Standing, Jove righted his clothes and cast Sabah a look of amused derision. He lifted a hand to wave off the assassin, who, with a soft grunt, faded off back to the door. Jove touched fingers to the back of his head, grimacing as they came away bloody. He backhanded Sabah then said, "I was going to kill you and leave the body for your stupid king to find, but I think instead I'll let the sailors have you."

Sabah bared his teeth but said nothing.

Grunting, Jove looked at Demir, who still knelt on the floor, lip bloody from where Jove's head had struck his mouth. The skirt of his outfit had completely torn away, leaving only the pants to barely cling to his hips. "You do look better on your knees. Still too arrogant, but that's a good start."

Demir slowly looked up to meet Jove's eyes. "Men like you always see kneeling before another as a punishment. You think putting someone on their knees gains you some victory.  But submission isn't yours to take or to force. It's mine to give where I choose. Whatever you do, whatever you take, I'll never
give
you anything. All the power of Havarin will never change that, and all the victories you perceive will be hollow."

Jove bristled, but whatever he said was drowned out by Sabah's bright, smug laughter. Swearing in words spoken too quickly for Demir to understand, Jove whipped around and backhanded Sabah again, the sound cracking through the room. Sabah spit blood on the floor and looked up with another of his dark, twisted grins.

Jerking back around, Jove strode over to Demir and once again wrapped a hand around his throat, squeezing like Demir was a piece of fruit he wanted to see pop. When Demir's vision began to black out, Jove threw him to the floor and kicked him in the stomach. "Looks enough like submission to me."

He started to say more, but the distant sound of shouting, a resounding bang, cut him off. Turning to the assassin and one of the guards, he said, "Go investigate that." As they ran off, he gestured to the remaining guard. "Time to go. Grab that one, I've got him." He hauled Demir to his feet. "We'll have to finish this fascinating discussion later, Harem Master." Holding tightly to Demir's arm, Jove dragged him along past his desk, where he threw aside one of the ugly gold tapestries to reveal a hidden door.

Unlocking it, Jove led the way inside, dragging Demir with him into the dark. The door closed with a dull thud behind them and a moment later light flared from a pair of small lanterns. The guard held one out to Jove, who promptly thrust it at Demir. "Don't do anything stupid. It won't take me a moment to do irreparable harm to you with dagger or sword."

Demir stared at him, then over his shoulder where the guard had Sabah thrown over one shoulder. "Is Sabah all right?"

"He's alive, if not conscious. Move or that will change," Jove said. "You can be carried, too."

Not bothering to point out that if that was preferable, Jove would have already knocked him out, Demir turned and walked down the narrow tunnel. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat, fear putting a fine tremor in his hands. Had the ruckus been Ihsan and the others? Would they be able to get to them in the secret passage? Where did it end?

A strangled noise, followed by the crashing sound of a dropped lantern and the flare of light before it went out, made Demir start and jerk around.

Sabah knelt over the body of the guard, a bloody dagger still clutched in one hand. He slit the man's throat. Jove snarled, drew his sword and lunged.

Demir dropped his own lantern and threw himself forward, bringing his arms up and dropping the chain of his manacles over Jove. He jerked back, pulling the chain tight around Jove's throat. Jove lifted his sword—and then the blade clattered to the ground, almost but not quite drowning out the wet, sucking sound Jove made as Sabah stabbed him.

Yanking the dagger out of Jove's gut, Sabah looked at Demir. "Let him go."

More than happy to obey, Demir lifted the chains and hastily stepped away as Sabah slit Jove's throat as smoothly as he had the assassin's. Demir sank to his knees, trembling hard, still able to feel Jove pressed against him, the jerk of his body as he was stabbed. Could still hear that terrible sound as he'd died. Remembered all over again what it was like to see a man's neck snap like a twig.

"I'm sorry," Sabah said softly, just visible in the light of the quickly dying fires from the broken lanterns. "I wish we could have spared you seeing the uglier aspects of ourselves, the deaths you've been forced to witness. Come on, let's get out of here and go home."

Demir nodded, took Sabah's hand, and rose to his feet. He was grateful that Sabah did not let go as he led them back the way they'd come. Eventually, Demir saw narrow bands of light—the edges of the door to the passage. As they reached it, he could just hear muffled voices beyond, and Merciful Divine the voices were familiar.

After a few moments of swearing and fumbling, Sabah let out a triumphant cry and shoved the door open. Demir flinched against the sudden wash of bright light as he followed Sabah out of the passage.

"Sabah! Demir!" Ihsan and Haluk chorused their names, abandoning the guards they were speaking with to bolt across the room to them. "Are you all right?" Ihsan demanded, gripping Sabah's arms, scowling at the battered state of his face. "Where is that bastard Jove? I will kill him."

"I already did," Sabah said. "Stop yelling and kiss me, you worthless royal."

Ihsan made a soft noise and promptly obeyed. Demir looked away, the burst of energy provoked by fear abruptly fading, leaving him exhausted and trembling and in desperate need of space and quiet.

Haluk's hands rested gently on his arms, then slid down to the manacles, a scowl overtaking his face. "I think it's about time for these to go."

"I would be grateful," Demir replied quietly.

Looking up, Haluk smiled faintly—but it turned into a fierce scowl as his eyes landed on Demir's throat. Reaching up, he brushed his fingers whisper-soft over the bruises and bloody nail marks left by Jove. He looked up, eyes dark. "Are you all right?"

Demir gave a bare nod. "Nothing rest won't fix."

Haluk's hand shifted up, fingertips resting against Demir's cheek. Demir's breath stuck in his throat because he would not mind at all, but despite everything he had no real right to expect or even ask…

Something must have shown in his face, or perhaps Haluk simply knew him—or at least how he felt right then—because with a soft, ragged noise Haluk leaned up and took his mouth. His kiss was firm but not hard, steadying, a promise all would be well. He didn't kiss at all like Kitt or Sabah, whose kisses were still underscored by a need to prove something, their youth not completely driven out by their hard lives. Haluk kissed exactly like what he was: older, trained to protect, his every step carefully thought out and precise.

Drawing back slightly, Haluk said, "I'm glad you're safe, Lord Demir."

Hearing that 'lord' had never stung before, but right then Demir was heartily sick of it. He didn't want to be lord to them anymore. He wanted the right to drop formality, wanted to be allowed to kiss them whenever he wanted. He wanted to be one of them. Swallowing the hurt and stupid, pointless want, he nodded and drew completely away. "Thank you for coming to our rescue, Lord Haluk."

Haluk's crooked smile seemed an echo of Demir's thoughts, though it could just have easily been wishful thinking. He dropped his hands back to Demir's wrists, ran his fingers over the manacles. "One moment. I'll locate a key and we'll get you free." Haluk squeezed his arms again then slipped away as he called to the guards.

The empty space was immediately filled by Ihsan, who looked pale and exhausted, the bandages at his neck stained with blood. Demir frowned, fear causing his just-calming heart to start pounding madly again. "Majesty, you shouldn't—"

Ihsan's lips were rough, as though he'd torn them with his own teeth. But they were hot, sure as he kissed Demir like it was the last thing he'd ever do. His hands came up to cup the sides of Demir's face, and Demir could feel them trembling. He lifted his own hands to awkwardly cling to the fabric of Ihsan's shirt, pulled back just enough to gentle the kiss, make it a slow, reassuring thing, until they had both stopped trembling and needed desperately to breathe.

Drawing back, Ihsan smiled faintly, briefly meeting Demir's eyes. "I guess I can no longer reprimand Kitt for inappropriate behavior."

"It's not—" Demir broke off as Haluk returned brandishing a key.

Haluk shot Ihsan an amused look then shifted it to Demir as he lifted Demir's hands and unlocked the manacles. Demir threw them aside with relish, rubbing at his sore wrists a moment before slowly dragging his eyes back up to Ihsan.

It had been a lot of years since he'd felt well and truly flustered, but there was no other word to put to the way he felt, surrounded by Ihsan and his harem, Ihsan and Haluk's kisses lingering on his lips, the memory of other stolen kisses like bright flames in mind.

Merciful Divine, he was nearly forty. He could muster the ability to act like it. "Majesty, you're bleeding. You should be in the palace, not out here putting yourself in danger."

"I was not going to sit in the palace while people precious to me were in danger," Ihsan said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Highness. A little tired and bruised, but fine," Demir replied, pushing back memories of men dying, hours of being shoved into stables and carts, the exhaustion and hunger that abruptly washed over him. Thinking of those hours of misery, he asked, "What happened to the mercenaries who brought us here? I've not seen them since we arrived."

"Kitt happened," Ihsan said curtly, but his voice warmed when he then asked, "Are you sure you're well?"

Demir mustered a faint smile. "A bit rattled, I will not deny it, Majesty. I am eager to be home."

"We're bound for the palace the moment this place is secured," Ihsan replied.

Sabah approached carrying a cup of wine. He took a swallow, then held it out to Demir. It had a sharp, spicy smell to it, was dark red in color, warm and strengthening as Demir drank it down. "Thank you."

Taking the cup back, Sabah took another sip, then looked at Ihsan. "How did you find us?"

Haluk gave a sharp laugh from where he stood nearby speaking with the guards—guards wearing royal sashes, Demir noted belatedly. "He started with a royal inquiry of Pelenna's most powerful merchant, and when he did not cooperate, Ihsan just started arresting everyone. Roughly half the harbor is shut down right now, and there are a great many inspections going on that are going to result in some truly impressive fines. The next time people try to avoid answering Ihsan's questions they will remember what it cost them in time and money."

Ihsan shrugged, looking angry and pleased and sheepish all at once. "We found you, that's all that matters. I cannot believe Jove…" He trailed off, shook his head. "Havarin has a lot to answer for, and—"

"Majesty!"

Turning, Ihsan watched as a group of guards came striding across the room toward him. The one in the lead wore a badge that marked him as Captain of the City Guard. "The grounds have been secured. All foreigners have been taken into custody and are on their way to the royal palace as per your instructions. We are still processing all those taken into custody at the harbor, but should be done in a few more hours. Most are being released with markers to attend court, but we are holding any deemed likely to flee."

"Thank you," Ihsan replied, bidding them rise. "I want this place locked and chained after we leave. No one goes in or out without written permission from me or Her Majesty."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The captain and his men bowed, then departed.

Ihsan turned back to the others. "Shall we go home?"

Sabah frowned but fell into step beside him as they walked. Haluk walked on Ihsan's other side, and Demir took up Haluk's empty side. "Where is Kitt?" Sabah asked.

"He's in the courtyard," Ihsan said quietly, Haluk grim-faced beside him. Sabah's mouth flattened.

Demir recalled the time he helped draw Kitt from a dark cloud. Were those clouds going to come more often? "I hope he is all right."

"He will be," Ihsan said with a sigh. "Having us helps, and after this, I am going to actually keep my promise and not let him kill anymore."

Outside, the air was cold and smelled of ocean and smoke and blood. Kitt stood in the middle of the small, private courtyard that fronted the house, surrounded by bodies and the flickering lanterns held by several soldiers. He was stripped to the waist and stood washing himself while a young, anxious-looking soldier held a bucket for him.