[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest (10 page)

T
he two palace guards didn’t touch her, but they ensured Ariss returned to her rooms without any detours. Once there, she shrugged off her robe and headed for the tub her
paratanist
had thoughtfully filled. Within moments, warm water frothy with bubbles came up to her chin. Angling the pillow behind her head, she closed her eyes and replayed her time with Ker-rick.

Even though the water was wonderfully hot, she shivered at how he made her feel. Kerrick evoked such strong feelings, and not just physical sensations; he said things that made her crazy with desire. She tried to understand exactly what it was about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on anything in particular. He was terribly good-looking, with a physique any man would be proud of and any woman would want to explore, but he was also intelligent, emotionally sensitive, wickedly clever, and possessed a wild sense of humor. He also had a smile that could charm anyone. In the end, she decided the sum of him aroused her.

Even when she thought she couldn’t do as he wished, that
his desire was too far removed from what she could comfortably endure, he proved her wrong. All the dirty words she spoke went through her mind, each causing its own little ripple of excitement first in her brain, then in her body. She laughed a little at how in one night he’d changed her vocabulary forever.

A deeper tremor caused the bathwater to splash beyond the edge of the tub when she thought of his tongue … there. Never would she have even thought of such a thing, and when she realized his intent, she’d automatically pulled away, but then when the contact came … bliss. How could something so sinful be so pleasurable?

Her eyes blinked open at the thought, for who was the one deciding what was immoral? If anything that felt good was evil, then all of sex had her destined to spend eternity in the nothingness, right along with everyone else. So far, everything she’d done with Kerrick was pleasurable beyond words. Did that make it wrong?

Confused between what her parents preached and what she had now discovered on her own, Ariss decided she simply couldn’t trust her parents, not in this matter or any other. Once again, they proved to her that they did not have her best interests at heart. Behind her on the table lay the proof of their selfishness, not to mention the shocking depth of their greed. Placing their own daughter in bondage bothered them not at all, for in their minds, she was their possession, and they could do as they pleased with her.

Ariss had hoped her
paratanist
would have removed the shameful thing, but he’d probably not known what to do with the dress, so there it stayed, spilled across the table in glaring silver condemnation.

Another series of shivers caused the bathwater to splash, but this was not a tremor of lust, this was a quiver borne of dread. How could her parents have done this to her? When she’d first seen the dress, Ariss had been delighted by its beauty but puzzled
by its color. Her family color was yellow, her color as Harvester was black, so who would send her a silver dress when only the palace magistrate wore silver?

And that’s when her heart sank. The small card announcing the gift only confirmed what she already knew. Ambo’s skit-tery script praising her as his soon-to-be bondmate caused her stomach to clench and her eyes to water. Tears tumbled as she tore the note to shreds and tossed it away. Now she understood everything her parents had done in the last few cycles.

Coming to the palace wasn’t about securing their place among the elite; taking residence here was the first step to getting Ariss into the Harvester competition. Ambo helped, because once she was the Harvester, her parents would force her to select him as her bondmate. He could have taken her as a mate without all of this subterfuge, but a magistrate needed a bondmate with prestige, and the only position with greater prestige than the Harvester was that of empress.

Once she bonded to Ambo, he would, in turn, reward her parents with access to those who could buy their products for use at the palace. Already they provided
estal
oil and the herb used to make
umer,
but her father often complained that the palace should buy his raw material to make
astle.
Out of everything the palace used,
astle
was the most profitable item, and the palace used the fabric in great quantities. Her father swore his thread was superior to all others, and finally he’d found a way to get the palace to buy from him.

All it cost him was his eldest daughter.

Ariss stepped from the tub and dried herself mechanically. Ambo was seventy seasons. All he could offer her was money and position; two things she cared nothing about. He couldn’t love her, for he didn’t know her, and gods only knew what he would do to her in his bed. Rumors of his disgusting practices of combining food and multiple partners had reached all the way to Felton. Once she’d seen him, in the flesh, she’d been immediately
repulsed by his weight, but he only made matters worse when he picked his nose, wiping the mess on the side of his silver uniform. His sparse hair had been a tangled mess atop his head, and his furtive eyes had crawled over her, undressing her, molesting her, before finally settling on her breasts. All through the brief encounter, where he ostensibly conversed with her parents, he’d kept his eyes riveted to her chest. Ariss had then understood why her mother insisted she wear the low-cut yellow gown. During the brief chat, she stood there feeling like meat on display in the butcher’s window. Several times, Ambo licked his lips, as if slurping back the drool that would surely fall if he did not mop up.

Ariss tried to imagine the bonding ceremony; her resplendent in the silver dress, its color matching her cool gray eyes, and then Ambo, his uniform wrinkled, covered in dried snot swipes, his florid face wet with sweat. She covered her mouth with her hand to hold back a sob. Almost of its own accord, her hand trailed down to the necklace. Against her palm, the stone felt warm and heavy, reminding her that her fate was not sealed. If she dared, she could change the world and avoid the trap her parents set for her.

Across the room, her ghostly reflection mirrored her stance, shocking her with the dejected shape of her pose. Automatically, she straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t beaten yet. Standing around crying wasn’t going to help matters one bit. Determined, Ariss tossed her towel by the tub, slipped on her robe, then settled herself at the table. Again, her
paratanist
had thoughtfully left a small snack for her under covered platters. He said he had served the last ten Harvesters, and she believed him, because he anticipated even the smallest of her needs.

She selected a bowl of creamed
nicla,
a large portion of seared
aket,
and several slices of dark bread. To persevere through this challenge, she would need her strength. What she had to do was
not something she ever would have deliberately chosen for herself, but she selected the path that was the lesser of two evils.

No matter what, she couldn’t bond to Ambo. Now that Kerrick had shown her the unimaginable pleasures of the flesh, she couldn’t bear to even think of trying such things with Ambo. She’d rather toss herself from the balcony than suffer one night in his bed.

However, her other option would be the downfall of an innocent. One who didn’t even understand what her true duty was. Kerrick’s ignorance certainly
would
hurt him. Ariss felt awful about taking advantage of him, but what else could she do? She had two choices, neither one honorable, but this choice at least gave her the possibility of having a successful bonding. Kerrick would be furious when he found out, but she hoped that with time, she could prove to him that they could work together. She hoped and prayed that maybe he would understand.

Ariss knew her parents would not relent, and if she defied them by choosing a man other than Ambo, they would likely reveal the subterfuge in getting her selected as the Harvester, which would end in her execution. Despite her protests, none would believe she had entered the contest without prior knowledge of her assured success. Ambo would likely walk away unscathed, as he had in several other scandals. Ambo had a knack for escaping punishment for his misdeeds, probably because he had been the magistrate for so long that he knew secrets about everyone. This, in turn, made the voting body of the elite reluctant to cast their ballot for his inquisition, for what if those secrets should inadvertently tumble out during the harsh questioning? In that defiant scenario, only Ariss herself would suffer. She shook her head, knowing that was not the path for her.

However, if she followed the other path, her parents would have no choice but to accept the inevitable outcome. How
could they protest if she fulfilled the extent of her true duty? For surely, they didn’t know the Harvester obligations had changed so drastically, or they never would have forced her into this position in the first place. No matter what they said, the populace would not listen to them, for Ariss would have given the people the ultimate goal of the Harvest prophecy: a true
paratanist.

Chur Zenge had turned the prophecy back to its most ancient obligation: a child born of the male and female Harvesters, and carried directly by the female Harvester. Her and Kerrick’s child, once grown, would rule beside the empress and have as much power as she. Out of all the rules, rites, and rituals, this was the definitive purpose. The ancients had believed this child would be strong, beautiful, and possess godlike powers.

Ariss took a deep breath, worried to have so much heaped upon the child she hadn’t even created yet, but who knew what truth there was to the prophecy? Perhaps there was some magical aspect that she did not understand. Her and Kerrick combined might be bigger than each apart. Somehow, she doubted that, but she refused to let that stop her, for her only other alternative was to bond to Ambo.

Curious as to where the
paratanists
had come from prior to this return to the most ancient way, Ariss had spent several evenings pouring over the Harvester tome she’d been given during her inauguration. There, in a rather nondescript passage about the benefits of daily bathing, she had discovered the awful truth. Prior to this Harvest, the male and female Harvesters had their sperm and eggs combined, then placed in a
tanist.
Such sounded innocuous enough, but then, they ritualis-tically killed the poor woman to retrieve the issue, which were isolated from society and became
paratanists.
Ariss’ very own servant would have come from such a terrible scenario. She wondered if he knew the truth of his birth, then decided not to
tell him if he didn’t. Telling him served no purpose other than hurting him. In this instance, ignorance was truly bliss.

Ariss sighed. Kerrick seemed as oblivious as everyone else did about the new duty placed upon her. She had not known until she’d asked her
paratanist
about the stone around her neck. In even more reverent tones than the acolyte, he explained that the
parastone
would change color when she became pregnant, thus foretelling the coming of the
paratanist,
the first true and proper
paratanist
in thousands of seasons.

Her initial shock fell away to furious speculation. If she became pregnant, she would automatically be bonded to Kerrick. No longer would she have to worry about Ambo. Together, she and Kerrick would raise their child. What would happen to that child in the future was of profound importance to her. She did not want her child used as she had been, as a political tool, but all that she would deal with later. To save herself, she must fully mate with her counterpart.

Kerrick enjoyed the mating, as most men would, but he didn’t consider all the ramifications of the word
mate
. Another pang of guilt assaulted her conscience. She should tell him the truth. Ariss was not one for lies and subterfuge, for she felt she was doing to him what her parents had done to her, but she wondered what good confessing would do. It would ease her conscience, but would it really matter? They didn’t have a choice; they had to mate. If he chose not to mate with her, they would punish him, and probably extract his semen, anyway. One way or another, they would try to impregnate her.

Her
paratanist
wouldn’t discuss exactly how they would punish Kerrick, but his silence made her think it would be something horrific. Essentially, Kerrick would be refusing to carry out the Harvester duties. If another man wished to mate with her, he simply had to fight and kill Kerrick, and he would become the Harvester. Ariss didn’t want that to happen. She didn’t want Kerrick hurt.

“Oh, who am I fooling?”

She wanted Kerrick.

Every insufferable, arrogant, and so blatantly self-assured-it-bordered-on-delusional bit of him. Something in him called to her so strongly she couldn’t deny it. Question it, yes, and endlessly, yes, but refute it? No. Besides, if she refused the new Harvester, she would suffer a similar fate. They wouldn’t kill her, but they would either force her to mate or exile her, and then replace her with the next woman in line. The magistrate himself would burn a brand of shame on her forehead and then send her to the frozen wasteland of Rhemna.

Therefore, she and Kerrick must mate. Of the nine times they must mate, there was always a chance she would fulfill the prophecy and conceive. If she didn’t, Ariss didn’t know what she would do. Her gaze drifted to the balcony. Was it high enough? If she jumped, she wanted to make sure the drop would kill her, not just wound or cripple her. Deliberately, she pulled herself from that line of thought; not all was lost yet. She still had time to fulfill the duty placed upon her slender shoulders.

Once she finished her small meal, she pushed away from the table and settled into bed. Sleep eluded her. Curled on her side, she held the stone in her hand, pressing it firmly against her skin. Ariss fell asleep praying that when she awoke, the black would have faded to leave a clear stone behind.

Morning came, filling her room with dazzling brightness. Her
paratanist
had silently entered and opened the heavy drapes that would have blocked the twin suns. After several days of clouds,
Tandalsul
emerged, bouncing brightness off the fresh layer of snow with blinding intensity. Before she’d even pried her eyes open all the way, she leapt from bed and rushed to the mirror.