Chapter Fifteen

They’d taken his knives, his sword, and his boots, and then they’d chained him in the corner of this small room with stone walls and a cold stone floor. The chains were loose enough to allow him a small amount of movement. But not much. He couldn’t sit, he could only stand in a crouched position that already had his shoulders aching.

Kane yanked at the chains that tethered his hands to the wall of his cell. They rattled, but didn’t come loose. They were solidly set into the wall, just as the heavy door was solidly set. There were no windows, no light at all, but for the small bit of light that crept through the crack under the door. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness a while back.

He was trapped here. Without weapons, without luck. Without hope. So much for rescuing his daughter. So much for keeping Sophie safe.

While the cell was solid and dark and small, it was not entirely silent. Guards walked up and down the hallway, their boots clipping against the floor. The door and the walls were too thick for Kane to make out what they were saying, but he could hear their voices and their laughter. Stifled screams and muted mutterings drifted up from below, and occasionally he heard a scrape on the other side of the stones at his feet.

He didn’t know what might be down there, but he suspected it was not something so benign as rats. What could only be a scream reached his ears. No, that was not a rodent of any sort. Sounded more like...a woman.

He closed his eyes and prayed. It had been a long time since he’d talked to God. A very long time. But in a place where women screamed, where babies were kidnapped and young girls were forced to serve as whores, and where people who disagreed with the emperor simply disappeared...prayers were definitely called for.

Kane didn’t ask anything for himself. He asked for Ariana and Sophie to be safe. He asked for them to be taken away from this place.

He wanted revenge, he wanted justice. But he wanted to claim those things himself, so he didn’t ask God to strike down those who had ripped his family away.

The door to his cell flew open, and for a moment Kane was blinded by the glow from the bright lantern the soldier carried. It was all he could see for a moment. Bright light, then the green of a uniform, then a length of dark hair.

And then the soldier said, “Fecking hick rebel. When I saw them drag you in, I thought I recognized that pretty face.”

That voice...

As the lantern moved downward, Kane finally got a good look at the soldier’s thin face and the scar that marred one cheek. The smiling sentinel in Kane’s cell was the man who’d killed Duran.

Sophie had very reluctantly left Ariana in the care of the nurse, when Liane had come for her early in the morning. Liane was dressed in a very official-looking crimson robe, and in stark contrast Sophie—who had slept in her underthings with Ariana tucked at her side—was dressed in the same old clothing she’d been wearing for days; men’s clothes that should be burned when this adventure was over.

Liane took Sophie’s wrist in a tight grip and led her away from the baby. Was it possible this was Kane’s sister? The name was not an entirely uncommon one, but Kane’s Liane had been brought to this place, long ago. She did have the same unusual hair color—gold and brown woven together—and green eyes, though the shade was not exactly the same.

But that’s where the resemblance ended. Kane was kind and good and noble. This woman was calculating and manipulative and possibly evil. That was certainly an evil gleam in her eyes as she dragged Sophie up a narrow winding staircase, into another Level of the palace, and down a wide hallway. One sentinel had remained behind to guard Ariana’s door; the other followed the two women closely, as they stepped into a large, dank room. It was morning, so where was the sun? All the light in this echoing chamber was artificial. Strange lamps set in the walls glowed yellow; soft flames burned here and there, even in bowls that floated upon the surface of a large, still pool of water.

“Take off those disgusting clothes,” Liane ordered as she released her grip on Sophie’s wrist.

“But there are ...” Sophie glanced around the room. More than half a dozen girls were in different stages of dress and undress. They bathed in the pool, they laughed, they fixed their hair. In addition to the soldier who had followed them to this room, three men guarded the doorways. Not soldiers dressed in green, but younger men in loose fitting skimpy blue tunics that displayed muscled arms and long legs.

“If you are cursed with modesty,” Liane said sharply, “I suggest you repair that trait quickly. Your husband will have none of it, I assure you.”

“I am not cursed with modesty,” Sophie replied. “But neither am I accustomed to displaying myself without restraint.”

“I suggest you become accustomed,” Liane said with a half-grin.

Definitely evil, Sophie decided.

When she did not make a move to remove her clothes, Liane lifted her hand. One of the half-naked men in blue headed their way.

“This woman is soon to be your new empress, Brus,” Liane said. Her eyes remained fixed on Sophie’s face, as if she were searching for...fear? Compliance, perhaps.

Brus, a handsome young man with his dark hair slicked back and caught in a knotted ribbon that matched his tunic, bowed crisply.

“Brus is a master-in-training,” Liane explained. “One of his jobs, during the training period, is to assist the ladies in undressing, if they so wish.”

Sophie had no idea what a master-in-training was, but she certainly understood the rest. “I am perfectly capable of undressing myself.”

“Prove it,” Liane snapped.

Sophie began to unbutton the shirt she wore, and Liane lifted her hand to order the young man to depart. He did, without uttering a word. Brus returned to the others, who were likely also masters-in-training. Whatever that might be.

Sophie turned her back and quickly disrobed. She stepped into the pool, descending down wide marble steps until she was immersed in the pool. The water was neither too cool nor too warm, but perfect. It was also nicely scented, with just a touch of fragrant oils.

She would prefer her own pond and the warmth of the morning sun, but she had to admit, the bath felt very, very good.

A bath such as this was a luxury, and she closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the sensation of water on her skin. Then she dipped beneath the water, soaking her face and her hair and then rising up slowly. If the sun shone down on her face, and Ariana was sleeping nearby, and Kane was with her, all would be perfect.

But nothing was perfect.

Three new women entered the room. They weren’t dressed in red like Liane, but wore robes in varying shades of blue. Their clothing was made of very thin material that hugged their bodies when they walked. At the side of the pool they dropped those robes casually, and then they walked down the steps to join Sophie in the water.

“These ladies will bathe you properly,” Liane instructed. She watched Sophie and the other girls with cold eyes.

“I am perfectly capable of bathing myself,” Sophie insisted.

“If you are to be wed to the emperor, then you must learn to behave like an empress. He does not want an unwashed peasant as his wife.”

“Then perhaps he should marry someone else,” Sophie snapped.

Liane smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I will tell the emperor of your reluctance. He will be distressed to learn that you have already forgotten that the only reason your daughter and your escort are welcomed guests in the palace is because you will soon be his wife and he wishes to please you.”

“No,” Sophie said sharply. “There is no need to speak to the emperor.” She lifted her arms slowly and stood there, ready to accept whatever indignities Liane offered.

The girls who joined Sophie in the pool fetched washcloths and scented soaps. They were young—all of them younger than Sophie, one of them surely no more than fourteen years old. They bathed their new charge gently, washed her hair and rinsed it clean. It was an odd feeling, to stand calmly while others took charge of such simple and personal chores.

For Ariana and Kane, Sophie kept reminding herself.

When that was done, the girls walked with Sophie from the pool. They climbed the wide steps together, and when the cool air hit her bare skin she shivered. Brus and his friends watched, interested but not leering.

Near the steps, a stack of towels sat. The girls who had bathed Sophie dried her thoroughly, then they rubbed a sweetly scented lotion on her skin until it felt like silk. She sat, and one of the girls very gently combed her hair while another rubbed lotion on her feet. Another collected a gown from a small stack of clothes in a far corner. When her hair had been combed and her feet had been rubbed with the balm, Sophie stood and allowed the girls to dress her, as meekly as she had allowed them to bathe her.

The white gown was made of such fine material, it felt airy against her skin, almost as if she were wearing nothing at all. The material was so thin, in proper light she’d most likely look as if she were wearing nothing.

But Sophie did not complain. Her cooperation kept Kane and Ariana safe, for now. She could not forget that.

She faced a triumphant Liane with her chin high and steady. “Now what?”

Liane smiled. “Now it’s time for you to meet the Masters of Level Three.”

He was back, the bastard. Kane lifted his head to look the soldier in the eye. Twice more since his initial visit the man had come into the cell to torture Kane. For some reason he could not kill the captive who had given him a nasty scar on his cheek, but he didn’t have any qualms about hitting. Repeatedly.

And talking. The soldier did not shut up as he hit and kicked at his prisoner in chains. He talked about how the rebels on the road had died. He talked about the heads he’d taken and the way the rebels had cried and screamed in defeat. He talked about severed heads posted around the city, hanging there until they rotted.

The soldier talked about how Kane had run away from it all. It might’ve been made to look like a fall, but they both knew that he was a coward who’d fled from the battle he knew he couldn’t win, leaving his friends and his brother to rot. The scarred soldier then contradicted himself, saying if he had known it was possible to survive such a fall, he would have climbed into that ravine and taken Kane’s head.

In between taunts and torture, the sentinel asked questions. What was his name? Where was Arik? Why had he come to Arthes? What seditious plans could he share in exchange for a cessation of blows?

Kane didn’t know if it was night or day, as the guard walked in once again. Apparently the sentinel hadn’t found his fists and booted feet to be entertaining enough; he carried a stick and a short knife with him this time.

“Hello, you fecking rebel. Ready to give me a name? I was told your name is Ryn. It seems your lady friend cares nothing for your secrets. Is that your given name or a family name? Ryn what? What Ryn? When you’re dead I might want to look up the family and pay my respects, but how can I do that with no more than Ryn to go by?”

Kane didn’t respond. Ryn? Sophie must’ve given them that bit of false information, remembering the warning not to mention his name.

“Your brother would’ve given me a name, by now,” the soldier said as he walked closer. “That cowardly poor excuse for a soldier—he had no business calling himself a rebel. He was a flea, easily stepped upon and squashed. As you will be, as soon as I have permission to step on you once and for all.”

Kane looked the sentinel in the eye. “I will step on you before I leave this place. What’s your name? I’d like to know what to call you, when I post your head outside the palace.”

The soldier lashed out with the stout stick, hitting Kane across the legs. The blow stung, and what was coming would no doubt be worse. But Kane didn’t cry out.

The soldier balanced the stick in one hand, the knife in the other. “I have no reason to keep my name a secret. It’s Nairn. Iaso Nairn. Slayer of rebels and for the past seven months keeper of the gate to Level Thirteen.” He leaned in close. “Your brother died too quickly. I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve been ordered not to kill you just yet. Your death will take a very long time, rebel.”

Kane flinched as Nairn cut his shirt away. “Yours will be quick,” he whispered as the soldier raised the stick again.

Nairn answered with a swipe of the knife tip across Kane’s cheek.

“Not so fecking pretty now, are you rebel?”

Sophie sat in a very comfortable chair in a room just down the hall from the bathing pool. At least there was no crowd around, this time. The sentinel who had been guarding her was posted outside the door. Inside the nicely furnished but gaudy room there was only Sophie and Liane, this red chair, a large bed covered in red and pink and littered with pillows of all sizes and a long table covered with feathers, and oils and things she could not identify.

There was a window, and the sun actually shone into the room. Sophie stared at that window for a long time, trying to draw the sun to her. She was so tired of the dark.

She did not dare to look at the chains that hung in one corner, or the whips that dangled nearby.

“You look almost presentable,” Liane said as she paced before Sophie’s chair. “And you no longer stink. The emperor will be pleased.”

Liane was not pleased; Sophie saw that much.

She might not be educated or worldly, but she knew why Liane hated her. She was obviously jealous, though to suggest such a thing would not be wise.

“I do not want to be empress,” Sophie said gently. “I only want my daughter and”—she almost said Kane’s name, but she caught herself—“my friend.”

“In this palace, no one cares what you want. In all of Columbyana, no one cares what you want.”

“You seem to have a very close relationship with the emperor. Perhaps you can convince him that I would make a poor empress and he should search elsewhere.” Sophie lifted her eyes expectantly. It simply made no sense for her to wed the emperor.

“Once Emperor Sebestyen decides he wants something, he doesn’t let anyone dissuade him.”

“But you—”

“I exist for his pleasure, not as advisor on matters that extend beyond the bed,” Liane snapped. “As you soon will, too. If you are accustomed to living in a place where others care what you think and what you feel, I suggest you come to terms with the fact that your life will not be that way here. You are here as a brood cow, to carry and deliver the emperor’s son.”

“It’s very unlikely that I will ever have—”

“Cease your whining and accept your lot.” Liane cut her off. There would be no assistance from this woman, even though she obviously disliked the idea of Sophie marrying the emperor. And she did not even care to hear that it was impossible for a Fyne witch to deliver a son.

“When will my father return?” He might be her only chance to get out of this situation.

“Weeks,” Liane answered. “Perhaps months. By the time you see your father, you will be empress.”

Sophie licked her lips. Somehow she had to find a way to escape. There was only one window to this room, and it was much too high off the ground to be a means of escape. Again she looked in that direction, hoping to draw strength from the sunshine. But the only strength she had to rely on was within herself.

“Why are we here?” Sophie asked, meeting Liane’s glare.

“The emperor will be a demanding husband. He will expect a bride who knows how to do more than lie on her back and spread her legs.”

Sophie’s mouth went dry.

“But your husband-to-be is much too impatient to be a teacher of any sort. He will expect you to come to your marriage bed trained in the ways of sexual pleasure.”

“Trained?” Sophie asked weakly.

“His most recent wife was not, and he found her naiveté quite annoying. To be honest, all four of the emperor’s brides were disappointing in bed. It is my job to see that you do not offer the same annoyance. Since you don’t have a moneyed and well-blooded family to protest, I can train you as if you were a concubine. In that way you can be the perfect bride for Emperor Sebestyen.” Liane’s eyes hardened. “You will be well-connected through Minister Sulyen, and well-trained by me.”

“I do not wish to be well-trained or well-connected,” Sophie whispered.

“No one cares about your wishes.”

An unfamiliar anger fluttered inside Sophie. “Why would any man care about the sexual pleasure of a brood cow?” Liane did not react at all to that question, much less answer.

“Drink this.” She offered a small crystal glass. No more than a tablespoon of a shimmering ruby drink sat in the bottom of that glass.

“What is it?”

“It won’t hurt you.”

“But—”

“Drink it.”

“I’d like to know what’s in this before I—”

“Drink it or your escort will pay for your stubbornness.”

Sophie closed her eyes and upended the glass. A sweet, thick liquid dribbled down her throat. Almost immediately she felt a strange heat spreading in her stomach like warm fingers.

Liane went to the door and opened it, and three men walked in.

“These are the Level Three Masters,” Liane said as she closed the door behind them.

Suddenly, master-in-training made sense. “Oh.” The heat from her stomach spread to her limbs.

Liane was bolstered by Sophie’s reticent reaction. She almost smiled.

The three men were dressed. Barely. Chests and flat bellies and long legs were revealed, while a mere scrap of fine blue fabric stretched across firm hips. Men in the Southern Province rarely wore kilts. They were farmers and shopkeepers, and preferred more traditional clothing. These Masters, like Ryn, wore practically nothing at all.

Why was it that she felt more threatened by these silent men than she had when Ryn had turned into a monster beneath her very hands?

“Catus is a skilled lover,” Liane said calmly. “I promise you, there’s not a more talented pair of hands in all of Columbyana.” A black-haired man with plenty of dark hair on his chest stepped forward. He was handsome, as they all were, but he was also brutishly large. Muscles made his arms and thighs bunch, and while he was not tall, his body was as hard as rock and massive. There were even rippled muscles across his torso. When introduced, he bowed much as Brus had done.

Liane stepped to the man in the middle. He was fair-haired and much prettier in the face than Catus, and he had very little hair on his trim torso. Put him in a gown and he could almost pass for a woman.

Almost. He was already aroused; the little skirt he wore did nothing to disguise his erection. He had muscles of his own, but nothing like Catus. He looked gentle, next to the larger man.

“Waryn,” Liana cooed, “why don’t you show the emperor’s bride your area of expertise.”

The pretty man stuck out his tongue and rolled it. It was, without a doubt, the longest tongue she had ever seen.

“Trust me,” Liane said softly. “He knows how to use it.” She patted him fondly on the butt before moving to the next man. His fair hair was oddly short, barely covering his ears. It curled there and over the nape of his neck. He was not as large as Catus or as pretty as Waryn, but he was taller than the other two and he had a masculine air that was almost magnetic.

“Vito has been a Master for many years. While they are all gifted lovers, he remains a favorite.” She boldly lifted his kilt to display the reason he was so favored. Vito was aroused like the others, but he was much larger.

Much.

Sophie closed her eyes. Her head spun. What had been in that glass? She felt out of control, a little dizzy...and her limbs were so warm.

Three talented, handsome men were here to pleasure her. To teach her to pleasure them. This was everything she’d decided she wanted a year ago, wasn’t it? The freedom to pleasure and be pleasured without the complications of love. Exploration and lust and the company of whatever man she might desire. No bonds, no commitments, no involvement of the heart.

Sophie opened her eyes quickly. “I can’t possibly sleep with any of these men. What if I become pregnant? The emperor wants an heir, I heard him say as much. He won’t take a chance—”

“There is no chance,” Liane interrupted. “Everyone on Level Three is incapable of reproducing. The Masters and the concubines all consume daily medications to prevent conception.”

“Oh. Still...” How could she explain to Liane that she was not like other women, that it was likely she would become pregnant, no matter what measures had been taken to prevent it?

“Your training will not begin with actual intercourse, in any case,” Liane said with a wave of her delicate hand. “There are so many other things to learn. Of course, if you beg sweetly and desperately enough I’m sure one or more of them will be willing to accommodate you. You will, after all, soon be empress, and they will desire your favor.”

Sophie licked her lips. “I won’t...” A wave of sensation shot through her body, as if Kane had laid his mouth on her neck, as if he had kissed her. “What’s happening to me?”

Liane explained, in that cold voice of hers. “The elixir you drank will help you relax, it will get rid of those nasty inhibitions you seem to carry around with you. Who knows? You might very well find this session quite enjoyable.”

Sophie tried to smile at the men who were lined up behind Liane. It didn’t work. It was as if her face had frozen in place. “They haven’t said a word. Perhaps we should all get acquainted before we—”

“Level Three Masters do not speak,” Liane explained. “When it comes to matters of the body, there is no need for words.”

“They can’t speak or they just...don’t?”

“Well, we haven’t cut out their tongues, obviously,” Liane responded.

Liane stepped aside, and all three of the men dropped their kilts and walked toward Sophie.

Her head swam, but just a little. Whatever Liane had given her, it wasn’t strong. Just...warm.

The Masters were all fine specimens of manhood. Handsome, virile, attentive. Their eyes did not leave her, and yes, there was passion in those eyes. All six of them. This was everything she’d thought she wanted, a year ago. No, even a few weeks ago, she had still entertained thoughts of taking lovers as she so desired, in order to maintain the Fyne House and so that she would not have to live her life without a man to, at least on occasion, hold her.

But that had been before she’d fallen in love with Kane. She had fought it, and there was still the curse to consider and conquer, but the love had come. Slowly, surely, and strongly, it had come. No matter what sort of potion Liane gave her, she didn’t want any man but Kane. By the stars, how was she going to get out of this?

Catus, he of the fabulous hands, took her hand in his and gently pulled her to her feet. He and Vito removed her diaphanous gown, turning her this way and that until she was dizzy. In a moment the gown was on the floor and she stood before them completely naked.

No man but Kane had ever seen her this way, and she felt as if she were betraying him just by standing here.

But to resist could mean death for him and for Ariana. How could she fight when she had so much at stake? Her own desires meant nothing, compared to the lives of those she loved.

Catus did have gentle hands, an odd contrast to his large and utterly masculine body. He touched her as he led her to the bed. He caressed her neck, her back, her arms. Every touch was tender and, whether she liked it or not, physically arousing.

“The most sensitive area of a man’s prick is the head,” Liane said in a businesslike voice. “Vito, show her.”

At the bedside, Vito took Sophie’s hand and guided her fingertip along the head of his erection. She barely touched him, and yet it was clear he was affected by the gentle caress of her fingers. He was warm and smooth and hard. Her hand trembled, but his was rock steady as he guided it down the shaft and back up again.

Waryn lifted Sophie, luring her gently away from Vito’s attentions. He spun her around and placed her on the bed. She was still breathless when he leaned over her, dipping down slowly, tilting his head as if he were going to kiss her on the mouth, then changing direction and giving his attention to her throat, her ear, the sensitive skin beneath her ear. The tip of his tongue flickered there.

She rested naked on the softest, silkiest bed she’d ever laid upon, and three finely built and handsome men gave her their full attention. Their full attention. She should be ecstatic; she should be floating off the bed in sheer delight. What woman did not dream of such a sensual experience?

And yet she did not feel the warmth of the potion in her heart, only in her traitorous body.

Sophie closed her eyes so she would not have to see what was happening to her. Her heart pounded so hard, and she still had not regained her breath. If she refused to participate, would Kane and Ariana pay the price? If she had no choice, she could pretend it was Kane touching her. She could pretend...

Tears stung her eyes, and she pushed them back. Ryn had told her she lost strength through her weeping, and she needed all her strength at this moment.

A man lay down beside her on the big bed, pressing his bare body to hers while his hands very gently caressed her breasts and his mouth feathered tiny kisses here and there. Another Master speared his fingers through her hair and lifted it so he could have access to her neck. Still another spread her legs gently.

The first tear slipped out of her eyes and fell to the pillow.

“Don’t be a child about this,” Liane said sharply. “Do you know how many women would kill to have the full attention of these three men?” The Masters did not stop. They caressed her skin. They kissed her. They licked and nipped and prodded.

“Sex is a participatory sport,” Liane instructed. “They are touching you. Touch them.”

Sophie lifted a trembling hand and found a face. A hard, unfamiliar face.

“Open your eyes, damn it!” Liane ordered.

She did, and she found herself staring into a pair of dark, deep eyes too close to her own. There were now only two Masters on the bed with her. Vito was on the other side of the room, standing before the table with the oils and the feathers and the other...things. He returned to the bed with a bottle of oil and one long, blue feather.

He dribbled oil on her breast, and Catus stopped the path of the warm oil with one gentle hand. He massaged the oil into her breasts, into the valley between, down her torso. His hand dipped beneath her belly button, but went no further.

Vito took her wrist in his hand and lifted her arm, and then he brushed the feather against her skin from hand to shoulder and down again. It felt good; it made her insides quake and feel hollow. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he grabbed her ankle, lifted her leg, and brushed the feather against her inner thigh.

The elixir Liane had forced Sophie to drink did more than relax her. It was an arousing elixir, a love potion, perhaps. But Sophie was stronger than most, and she had no intention of being controlled by anything so common as a love potion! No, an arousal potion, she thought as her insides quivered. There was no love in this. No love at all.

“If you will stop fighting, you’ll find this most enjoyable,” Liane said from her post beside the bed.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can!”

Vito returned Sophie’s leg to the bed and placed the feather in her hand. Her hand trapped beneath his, he guided that feather over his own body. He looked her in the eye as the feather brushed over his erection, and he smiled. Catus rubbed his hand over her inner thigh. There was still a touch of oil on his palm, and it felt different. It felt good. Waryn flicked his tongue across one nipple and then another, and like it or not her body responded.

“How can I feel this way when I’m in love with someone else?”

“The reaction of the body when it’s properly stimulated has nothing to do with love,” Liane said without compassion.

“That’s what I always thought, that’s what I wanted to believe, but...” More tears came, tears which would only annoy Liane. Tears that would sap the strength she needed. But she couldn’t stop them. She wanted Kane, no one else. This was a disaster of major proportions.

Catus took her hands and helped her into a sitting position. Then he sat on the bed behind her, cradling her in his arms while he kissed the back of her neck and teased her breasts with long fingers. Waryn gently spread her thighs and caressed the tender skin there. Vito took her hand in his and led it to his own hard body.

She did not sob, but a few silent tears streamed down Sophie’s face. Was this what she’d thought she wanted? Pleasure. The freedom to love as her body dictated. Here in this room was everything she’d thought she wanted, but she wasn’t free and unfettered. She wasn’t independent and unconventional.

She was bound to Kane Varden and always would be. The curse would kill him if they didn’t find a way to break it, but they had time. They had time to live and love and try to find a way.

Fighting now could get him killed. They wouldn’t harm the baby, she couldn’t believe they would be so cruel, but Kane...he would be made to pay.

She did her best to relax, but her legs trembled. “I’m sorry, Kane,” she whispered as the man between her legs laid his mouth on her inner thigh. “I’m so sorry.”