The Slave

Kushan was curious to meet the slave sent in by his brother-in-law Arjun of Rajendra. Not that he needed another woman in his Concubines Garden, but it was a common gift among kings, and Ajrun had sent a note saying he'd probably be surprised by this particular woman, because she came from a country none of them had ever seen.

So Kushan was curious to meet his new slave – and ready to forget her the morning after.

He found her asleep on the canopied bed, which was not only uncommon, but also unheard of. Hadn't she be told what her duties were? Wasn't she in the least worried or curious about her destiny?

She looked common enough, dressed in the southern clothes of slaves and concubines, and for a moment he wondered what her day clothes had been in her own country. Then again he felt offended by her lack of respect: she was a slave, she was supposed to eagerly await him with open arms (and legs)!

He sat on the bed, frowning, and patted her shoulder to wake her up. She rolled on the other side with a sigh.

"What the..." At loss with words, he leaned over her to check if she was indeed still sleeping, and saw her eyelids slowly open.

"Wake up!" he ordered, his patience gone. "Do you understand me?"

She slowly turned to look at him. Her eyes were the color of the sky, and she stared at him undaunted. "If you speak slowly, yes, I understand you," she said with a slight accent.

"Good. Have you been told your duties?"

"Yes," she rolled on her back, sort of offering herself.

"And weren't you told to wait for me?"

"I'm sorry, the journey was long and uncomfortable, but this bed is the best I ever lay on."

She kept her eyes on him way too boldly.

"You shouldn't look at me," he snapped, uneasy.

"Sorry." She averted her eyes with a shrug. "I wouldn't be staring if you weren't such a pleasant sight."

"What?" he exploded, outraged. How dare she? "Where do you come from?" he demanded. He had never heard of a place where women were so outspoken.

"The Queendom of Maadre," she answered.

"Oh." He was too puzzled to comment. What was that strange word supposed to mean?

"You heard of it?" she looked surprised.

"No."

"That's what I thought." Now she sounded relieved. She looked outside of the window, thoughtful. "It's beyond the sea, on the side of Rajendra and Akkora. Not even King Arjun had heard of it. We have one Goddess and our queen is her descendant."

A Goddess! Kushan remembered his father's frown when he had told him the story of his childhood friend Puddra, who followed a different faith. His father had had to chase him from Zarquon and lost a friend, so he forbid him, his son and heir, to have such a friend: they were of royal blood, semi-gods, they shouldn't need friends. Not something a young boy wanted to hear, but Kushan had accepted it and told the same thing to his own son and heir Neeraj a couple of years earlier. He also told him about the Sect, and Neeraj had noisily sighed, but obeyed.

Disturbing news had come lately from the Sect, they weren't the same people his father had exiled anymore. Puddra was dead and his son Ramesh ruled a growing community of bloodthirsty, sex crazed members.

"My father dealt with a minority adoring a Goddess," he said a little suspicious about the slave. "They're hiding somewhere in the mountains now."

"That's not us," she assured. "Ours is our mother, literally. Our first queen, Amazonia, was her daughter."

"A ruling queen?" he couldn't believe his ears.

"That's why we call it queen-dom instead of king-dom," she said, looking at him as if he were dumb. It seemed very obvious to her, but he had never heard that concept before.

This explained her behavior, though. A country ruled by women. No wonder she was so outspoken and could look him in the eyes without blushing.

"Well, you're in my kingdom, now," he said. "And you're my slave."

"Of course." Again she seemed to lie down as if offering herself, but her eyes were teasing. She averted them, smiling to herself. Was she laughing at him? Well, he'd show her who was the master! He really wanted to subdue her, now. And taste her.

He leaned to kiss her lips, brushing them with his. She grabbed his head and pulled him closer, opening her mouth for a much deeper kiss than what he had intended. She tasted good, and she definitely knew what to do with her tongue. He found himself breathless in her embrace and pulled back, panting.

She sort of followed him covering his neck with butterfly kisses while her hands explored his torso through his night caftan, as she slowly moved down.

"What are you doing?" he panicked. Only the most skilled courtesans could do that to him, and she had barely arrived. She was obviously no virgin, but she still needed his permission to do what she was attempting to do. He was king and semi-god, he was supposed to order her around. She shouldn't follow her own initiative. She was a foreigner, the Gods only knew what she could do to him! His slaves had always been well instructed, but this one seemed to need taming first.

She pulled back, stared at him and lay back down. "Sorry." She averted her eyes, looking bored.

He decided he wouldn't let a moody foreign slave deter him from having his pleasure. But by the way she looked at him afterward, he wondered if he could have had more by letting her follow her way.

***

Bekah was bored. Life in the Concubines Garden was boring. Kushan had been boring in bed, or at least had been during his first night – and hadn't come back since. She was probably too much to handle for him anyway. He wasn't used to Huntresses – and he'd be the perfect prey.

If she had met him back home, she'd have hunted him down; and if she had found him in someone else's Apartment, she'd have requested him immediately. He was darn good looking and well endowed, she could have lots of fun with him in bed! Except he was king and she was a slave, so she had to find a more subtle way to capture him.

But first, of course, she had to lure him back to her bed, which didn't look easy. There were dozens of beautiful women in the Garden, and a queen, pregnant with her fifth child. Kushan came every day to visit his favorite concubine, Meghana, almost a second queen herself, but never bothered with Bekah.

Bekah had seen Meghana and the other women dance. She truly loved the southern steps. The dancers were so sensual in their bodices and swirling skirts, she decided she wanted to learn a new skill. At least she'd keep herself busy and wouldn't be so bored in the royal palace of Arquon.

Meghana was the best of the dancers, so she thought to ask her. "Can you teach me to dance?"

"No." Meghana upturned her nose with scorn. Was she jealous? She saw the king every day and she was jealous of her?

Bekah shrugged. She didn't like those meek women's company anyway, so she went outside and imagined to have her bow and arrows. She planted her feet on the ground and stared at her target, a blossoming cherry tree, imagining to be at an archery contest. Better keep herself exercised anyway.

She took the air-arrow, pulled the air-rope, aiming her air-bow and shot. Center. She shot again. Miss. She noticed the branches of the cherry tree went over the garden walls. She smiled, preparing another shot. Hit.

"What are you doing?" Meghana sounded shocked. She had moved from her cushioned carpet to check her, though. She probably couldn't imagine Bekah with breeches like men, which was what she wore when she went hunting in her home country. Hunting uncatchable men, not animals. She loved to tame those savage runaways.

"Shooting arrows," she answered, aiming again. Miss. "You don't want to teach me dancing, I thought I'd keep myself busy with my normal exercises."

Which reminded her she had her own personal dance. Time to get rid of the air-bow and get hold of the air-sword!

"Do you want to see mine?" she continued, winking at the stunned Meghana. "It's called the sword dance." She grinned at Meghana and the other startled women who had followed her, swinging her invisible sword as if she were dueling with someone, and slowly retreating towards the cherry tree.

"You're crazy!" Meghana looked horrified.

"No, I'm bored," she replied. "Therefore I'm leaving."

"But you can't!"

"Watch me."

Climbing a cherry tree was as easy as back home. Some friends had nicknamed her Monkey because she was so fond of climbing trees. She quickly reached the wall and jumped down on the other side, chuckling at the sound of the women's alarmed screams.

***

Meghana looked devastated. She blamed herself for the attempt made by the foreign slave to escape from the Garden. It took Kushan two good  hours to calm her and reassure her it wasn't her fault. The foreign slave had been captured and returned to the Garden, no harm done.

"But will you punish her?" Meghana pleaded, still teary from the unsettling event.

"Of course," he promised.

He lightly kissed her and left, thinking about the foreigner who had dared trying to escape – a woman, alone! – and had given him such a deep kiss he could almost still taste it.

He could have ordered his chief eunuch to punish her, but he decided to do it himself. He had avoided her for a week and kind of dreaded seeing her again, but her escape attempt forced him to remind her she was his property now.

He went to her room and found her brooding.

"Why did you try to run away?" he asked, stopping by the door and observing from a distance. She didn't have any weapons, but she looked dangerous. No, she was dangerous, because he had no idea of how to handle her.

"I was bored," she shrugged. "Meghana refused to teach me to dance."

"She says you know a very strange dance."

"Your soldiers are more likely to recognize it."

"My soldiers?"

She scoffed and stared at him. "My lord," it sounded like a mockery, "I can use a bow and a sword better than most men. In fact, I could ask you to set me free if I win a duel with a man of your choice."

"No." He was adamant. "Women don't touch swords."

"In this country. In mine, the army is all female. Men don't touch weapons unless in the Arena. They do only the hard labor. Or, if they're good looking," her look of appraisal put him in that category, apparently, "they are used for reproductive purposes."

"What kind of country is yours?" he asked, outraged.

"It's the Queendom of Maadre," she shrugged. "We treat men like you treat women. Sometimes worse, as most consider them animals. They are not allowed to show their faces and bodies in public..."

"That's why women cover themselves in Akkora," he snapped.

"Indeed," she smiled pleasantly. "But if you were born in the Queendom of Maadre, you'd have to wear a Modesty Cloth all over you great body whenever you left the house."

"I don't show myself in public," he grumbled. "I'm a semi-god, few elected get to see my face."

"So slaves are luckier than commoners?" she teased. "I'm lucky, then. It would be a pity to hide your looks."

"Stop behaving like a whore!"

"There's no such thing in my country, although we do have Public Men who sometimes behave like you're saying."

"You are in Arquon, now, and are my slave!"

"Yes, I understood that the first time I was told. And I seem to understand that you've been spoiled by loads of passive slaves who adored you and did your bidding without hesitation. I'm sorry, but I'm a little more selfish and would love to find some pleasure myself in this relationship."

"I am your master and you are my slave," he said, determined. "You should do my bidding and give me pleasure. I decide how or when, not you."

"I know that. If you'd let me..."

"No!" That game was too dangerous. That slave had something that scared him. She looked like she could destroy him with her voracious kisses and shameless hands. Maybe she was a member of the Sect: reports said that they abducted people from villages close to their shelter and used them in endless orgies of sex. Maybe she had lied about her origins, in spite of her foreign accent. "I'm already dealing with a sex-crazed sect in my own kingdom, I believe it's enough!"

She shrugged, averting her eyes. "Fine," she said. "Don't be surprised if one day I disappear. I'm easily bored."

"You already tried to escape and failed," he reminded her with a frown.

"Because I didn't really want to escape from you yet," she replied. "Why do you keep me if you don't even like me? Is it a matter of principle or what?"

"You're a gift from my brother-in-law," he said proudly. "It wouldn't be fair to him to resell or release you."

"Ah. So we're stuck." She shook her head with a sigh. "If only..." she whispered.

"What?" he snapped.

She stared at him. "If only you got off that pedestal of yours and decided to be a man instead of a semi-god..." she sounded almost threatening. What did she mean anyway? Of course he was also a man, who did his duty to the queen  and went to Meghana for comfort...

She averted her eyes again and his heart slowed down. How could he punish her? He doubted the whip would do much, except ruining her body. And she had a great body, after all.

Could he allow her to touch him like she seemed so eager to do? That was not normally allowed, though. He had let Meghana show off her courtesan skills once or twice after years in his Garden, but she was especially trained to know how to please him. This foreign woman knew nothing of their customs. And he didn't even know her name.

"What are you called?" he asked.

"Bekah," she answered, absent-minded.

He was sick of standing by the door at safe distance. She didn't seem ready to bite him. He went to the bed and climbed it.

"Bekah, I will not release you," he said. "Not even if you refuse to keep me entertained."

"I offered to entertain you, but you ordered me to take my hands and eyes off of you," she scoffed.

"Well, I changed my mind," he replied. "Show me how you entertain men in your country."

She glanced at him, puzzled, then slowly smiled. "Well, first of all, our men are trained to please us, and not the contrary," she said. "But we trained them, so we know what pleases them..."

"You're the slave, I'm supposed to train you," he grumbled.

"I can play the virgin, if you wish. How will you please me?"

He had no idea. He only knew he badly wanted to kiss her and make love to her all night. Talk about punishments...

***

Bekah knew she had him when he didn't punish her for her escape attempt. She liked him a lot and really hoped to get to his heart somehow – although that would probably mean he'd never set her free.

But with him she might start to enjoy life in a male-ruled country. He wasn't as arrogant as he had looked at first and seemed to be able to care for his bed partners. Of course Meghana now had real reasons to be jealous of her, but she didn't care.

She could be charming when she wanted to. She could be sensual. She could be curious to learn a different culture and willing to share hers. So they started to know each other better, both physically and mentally, sharing experiences and stories, in bed or in the quiet garden under the envious eyes of the other women.

She loved his smile and his laughter and the fact that he never raised his voice. She knew he had a wife, a fifteen-year-old heir, and many lovers, but she didn't care, because she knew also that every day spent with him tied him to her. He wasn't aware of it yet, but he belonged to her, body and soul.

What that meant for her, she wasn't sure yet. She had seduced a foreign king, why? To regain her freedom? To show she could do it? Or because she really wanted him from the bottom of her heart?

Maybe she had called on herself more trouble that she could handle after all. What had possessed her to leave the safety of the Queendom of Maadre to go looking for trouble? But then back home there weren't such handsome men such as King Kushan of Arquon, or his brother-in-law Arjun of Rajendra.

Those exotic beauties and different cultures had driven her away from her home country to explore, looking for less subdued men. Of course she had also met tricky bastards, that's how she had found herself prisoner of a slaves trader. She had been drugged, but nor really abused.

And now in the royal palace of Arquon she was treated like the Aristocrat she had never been. She was confined to the Garden, but now that he visited her every day, she wasn't so bored anymore. She could actually start liking her new home as much as she liked her 'owner', his company and his touch.

What would the future hold for her? She didn't care anymore. She had been restless most of her life, and now she seemed to have found some kind of peace. And a man she could watch forever without getting bored. She liked to listen to his sweet language and hear about his pampered life. And then in bed he could be as wild as her and they seemed to be always on the same wavelength, so much so that she even sang to him some songs of her childhood, even if he couldn't understand the words.

Sometimes she wished she could see him in his stately throne room, with his council, with his queen and with his children. She was curious about the many  hours he spent away from her and kept thinking about him and thanking the Goddess for putting him on her path. It wasn't an easy relationship, but she had never been interested in those.

***

"Meghana told me you have a new favorite," Queen Sharmila said. She was bedridden by her pregnancy and sickly looking. Kushan still visited her regularly while he waited for their fifth child to come to life before resuming his bed duties with her. She didn't sound jealous – never was – but very curious. She knew Meghana had owned his heart for at least five years, and in fact she might be happy to hear the favorite had now a rival. Kushan and his wife had never spoken of love and he could say she was also his best friend.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Bekah is different from any woman I've met so far. Maybe because she's a foreigner coming from a country ruled by women..."

"A country ruled by women?" Her eyes were wide open with wonder and surprise. "Can I meet her?"

"After you give birth," he said.

She took his hand, a pleading look on her tired, pale face. "Kushan, I'm weak, I might not survive this time," she said. "Bring her to my room before I pass away."

"You will be all right," he told her. He might not love her, but was very fond of her – he had sired four surviving children with her after all, and a fifth was on the way. And she was the perfect queen, beautiful and supportive. "You'll have the best midwives and doctors of the kingdom, as usual."

"Kushan, I want to meet her now," she insisted gently.

"Why?" he wondered. He had never seen her so eager to meet any of his bed slaves.

"Because you love her," she said. "It's in your eyes and your voice when you speak of her. You never were this dreamy when you mentioned Meghana."

"I am not..." He couldn't continue, nor sustain her eyes. His queen was wiser than her years. Could it be she had seen beyond his confusion and mixed feelings towards the foreign slave?

He found himself thinking of Bekah at the strangest times. In the Council Room, with his advisers speaking of the latest evil-doing of the Sect, his mind wandered to her Goddess, not bloodthirsty nor maternal, simply an all-powerful queen that had allowed women to be in charge of a huge country.

And when he visited his children –  Neeraj, Naina, Harish and Meena – while waiting for the fifth to come to life, he wondered what her children were like, how she had educated them in that strange country where only female counted.

She had told him she had had three surviving children, two girls and a boy. All were at her mother's house, the boy training to be a Public Man, the girls following their inclinations: one wanted to be a Huntress like her mother, the other was very much an Artist instead. All strange names for strange professions unheard of in his palace or his country.

And for the first time in his life the Royal Palace felt like a prison, especially because he hadn't left it since becoming king. As the Prince Heir, he had visited Akkora, Rajendra and Lakeshi, but after marrying Sharmila he had settled. He had taken her to meet his sister in Rajendra, then his father had passed away, and as king he was prisoner of his power. He had to cover himself outside his own apartments and the Council Room, he couldn't go anywhere unattended except to the Concubines Garden, and he was watched closely at almost anytime by either servants or advisers, or slaves and lovers.

And Bekah spoke of a free life of travels without duties, learning languages for pleasure to explore the world. His crown was heavier every day.

***

Neeraj came with a moan of pleasure, then yelped in pain when Ramesh bit his earlobe. He opened his eyes to look at his lover and lost himself again.

He woke up still sore and blissfully happy for his magic journey to the hidden city of the Sect, in the bedroom of Ramesh, the lustful High Priest who drove him crazy with his hands and his lips.

He was the prince heir of Arquon, but his sexuality had been awakened by a man who was his father's age but had thoroughly seduced him. Neeraj looked forward to retire for bed every night, so he could join his secret lover through a summoning spell.

Ramesh never spoke of love, of course, but he knew so much about lust, pleasure and pain, Neeraj thought his lifetime wouldn't be enough to try it all. Of course he had to swear to keep his new pass-time secret and was glad his father hadn't sent any of his slaves or concubines to take care of him. He knew by now he wouldn't stand a woman's touch, he was too enamored with Ramesh. At fifteen all he wanted was experiment, discover and enjoy himself.

Being five years older than any of his surviving siblings meant he started isolating himself from them during the day. As prince heir he didn't have a friend to talk to, therefore he had thrown all of himself in the passionate, secret affair with Ramesh.

The High Priest had told him that to worship his Bloodthirsty Goddesss he didn't really have to shed any blood. All he had to do was have sex and enjoy it, with men, women, whoever was willing to share the passion of the body. Neeraj preferred Ramesh, but had 'played' also with other members of the Sect, both male and female.

At first he had thought he was dreaming, but he was slowly realizing those wild orgies were really happening. Ramesh knew spells that instantly took him to the Sect's city or back to Zarquon, leaving him exhausted but happy.

Then his father summoned him, and they were alone in his cabinet. It was probably time for that 'talk' Ramesh had mentioned, and that he had been expecting anyway.

"Neeraj, as soon as your latest sibling is born, you shall say good-bye to your mother and start traveling the southern courts in search of a bride," the king said.

"I don't want to leave Zarquon," he replied, afraid to lose his contact with Ramesh. He wasn't sure how far the High Priest's spells could reach.

"It is your duty as Prince Heir, I did the same at about your age," his father chided. "Before you leave, I need to know if I should send Meghana to your room, so you can become a man."

"I am already a man, father," he said proudly. He wanted to add that he also preferred men, but he had promised Ramesh not to tell anyone. Besides, that might impeach his succession.

The king stared at him, surprised, then pleased. "Well, then, I'm glad to hear this. Remember you won't be able to marry a lower rank woman, and your bride shall be a virgin princess."

"I am not in love with any woman," he assured, which was true.

"Good." His father nodded his approval. "This is settled, then."

Not really, Neeraj thought.

He was still a little anxious when Ramesh came that night.

"What's wrong, my beautiful prince?" the High Priest caressed his hair, looking concerned.

"My father wants me to travel the kingdoms to find my bride," he pouted. "I don't want to go. I don't want to lose you."

"You will not lose me," Ramesh promised, pulling him closer and holding him in his arms. "I will always be able to find you."

He hungrily kissed him, and Neeraj abandoned himself in his arms. For the first time, they stayed in his bedroom and he had to hold his moans of pleasure to avoid alarming the servants sleeping next door.

***

Bekah was surprised to see Kushan fully clothed instead of wearing his usual night caftan. And he was also earlier than usual.

"Come with me," he said offering his hand.

She followed him outside the Concubines Garden, through a long corridor with marble-laced windows on one side, up a marble staircase and into a stately room where a very pregnant woman lay on a canopied bed.

Puzzled, she stared at him, wondering what was going on. Smiling, he motioned her forward.

"My wife and queen, please meet Bekah the foreigner," he said. 'The foreigner', not 'the slave'. And he was introducing her to his wife. She didn't know what to make of it, but she saw the queen smile and open welcoming arms.

"Please, come and sit by my side," she said with a frail voice. Intrigued, Bekah obeyed, observing with curiosity the mother of Kushan's children.

The queen's beauty was fading fast, and after almost sixteen years of marriage and four surviving children she looked quietly spent.

Bekah didn't feel any jealousy in the queen's voice, and even if Kushan was present and mostly silent, she felt natural opening her heart to his wife and answer her curious but gentle questions.

She could be friend with that woman, who had more class and kindness than Meghana and the others all together. They exchanged mothers' talk and eventually the little princes and princesses came to visit their bedridden mother.

Bekah noticed the heir, Neeraj, was a little uptight even with his own sibling, but the others were adorable, especially three-year-old Meena who stuck to her father who now looked sweeter than ever. Harish, the ten-year-old second son, seemed divided between his older brother and his mother, and seven-year-old Naina was the portrait of her mother.

Then the queen clapped her hands and requested quiet, so nannies and servants took away the children and brooding prince heir and Bekah bowed deeply her good-bye, impressed. The queen smiled at her weakly and shooed her off, closing her eyes with a sigh.

Bekah followed Kushan back to her room. "Thank you," she told him, serious. "I didn't dare hope to meet your family."

"Sharmila wanted to meet you," he replied. "And she won't need me tonight."

"Won't she?" She raised her eyebrows. "And you expect me to take off all that clothes you're wearing? How many do you have? I wouldn't even know where to begin! Are you always this dressed up during the day?"

"You should see me during special ceremonies," he chuckled, pulling her closer. "Anyway, I shouldn't be too hard to undress." He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

"You take off one piece of clothing and then I do the same," she said. "We'll see who gets naked first." She smiled mischievously. "One piece at the time. You start."

He grinned at the new game and slowly complied, but by the end of the striptease both were ripping off each other's last garments while trying to devour each other with kisses.

***

Kushan had never been head over heels in love with his wife, but he respected her and considered her his best friend. She was aware of his male needs and hadn't been jealous of any of the concubines and slaves of the Garden. In fact Meghana was more possessive than Sharmila and her tantrums and jealousy towards Bekah had turned him completely off her.

Bekah was more like Sharmila, wild in bed, but without the fiery jealousy Meghana possessed and his heart was more and more filled with thoughts for the foreign slave.

Then Sharmila gave birth to a little healthy boy who was called Mahesh. But she never recovered from the delivery and died peacefully in her bed, holding Kushan's hand. Her last words were, "Find a new queen. Bekah would do."

They had met only once, but Sharmila had chosen her successor. Not the most obvious choice (Meghana), but the woman she felt was better for him (Bekah). She must have loved him more than he ever thought, and he regretted not telling her how happy he had been with her. He  realized it when he lost her, so he decided from that moment on he'd express his feelings with words.

It wasn't easy as he had been taught men don't bare their hearts, especially not him, a semi-god superior to any living woman, including other princesses. He should never bow to anyone, but when Sharmila died he found himself on his knees, sobbing in Bekah's lap.

She let him vent his sorrow, caressing his hair, not saying a word. She looked serious and knowing, as if she really understood his loss.

"I was quite fond of one of my men," she admitted later, when he had calmed down and she had cuddled him for a couple of hours. "But he died, so I know exactly how you feel."

"How did he die?" he managed to ask, his throat still filled with a lump. She smiled ruefully.

"The High Priestess put her eyes on him," she said. "He refused her, so she sacrificed him on the Fall Festival."

"You make human sacrifices?" Suddenly she sounded like a Sect member and his heart sank.

"No man is allowed in the temples of the Goddess except to be sacrificed on her altar for the Fall Festival. I don't like it either, and I stopped going to the Temple since. That's also when I understood Priestesses weren't really the voice of the Goddess, by the way."

"I'm considered a semi-god by my people, but I am king."

"The power is divided between the Queen and the High Priestess back home. The Queen takes care of defense and security issues, the High Priestess of health. The Queen determines status, place of residence, selection of Governess in smaller towns and controls the army and administration of the country. The High Priestess has power over justice, spiritual matters and laws of inheritance."

"Oh." He felt relieved. She was not a member of the Sect. "My advisers tell me the Sect might have infiltrated the palace. I need to preserve my status, I need a queen."

"So will you marry Meghana?" she asked matter-of-factly.

He looked her in the eyes. "No. I will marry you."

She gasped. "I'm your slave," she said humbly. "Do what you please."

In the six months spent in the Garden she had become much sweeter. He had no idea if he had tamed her or she had simply adjusted.

The words came spontaneously to his lips. "I love you, Bekah. And I shall make you queen."

***

Neeraj was sad when his mother passed away. Ramesh found him curled up into a ball and it wasn't hard for him to force the words out of the young prince's mouth. Ramesh scoffed at his childishness, so Neeraj pulled himself together only to make his lover proud again.

That night their sexual encounter was more passionate than ever and as  he lay, spent, in his lover's arms, Ramesh asked him what his father's plans would be.

"About what?" he asked.

"Will he remarry? And if yes, who?"

"Meghana has worked hard to become a queen," he pouted. "But maybe it was all for naught."

"Why?"

"Father has a foreign slave and mother asked to meet her."

"So you think your father would put a foreign queen on the Arquon throne?"

Neeraj hadn't really considered the idea, but now that Ramesh mentioned it, it was very possible. The foreign bitch might sit in his mother's place. He couldn't allow that.

"You're old enough to attend your father's council," Ramesh suggested. "And demand his abdication if he insists on marrying a foreign woman. Most of his advisers would side with you, I'm sure."

"If I become king, you shall be my chief adviser," Neeraj said, determined.

Ramesh grinned. "As you wish, my beautiful prince," he said kissing him.

So Neeraj requested and obtained to attend his father's council session after his mother's funeral. He sat in the room listening carefully to every discussion without intervening – not even when he heard the council's concerns about the Sect's infiltration in the palace – until the chief adviser Dharuna asked if his majesty planned on marrying again.

"Yes," the king answered. "But I don't want to endanger the other kingdoms until I solve the problem of the Sect, therefore I will take my pick from the Concubines Garden."

"And you have already made your choice, your majesty?" Dharuna insisted.

"Yes, I shall marry Bekah from the Queendom of Maadre."

"No." Neeraj spoke at last, glaring at his father. "No foreign woman will sit in my mother's place!"

"Your mother blessed my choice, Neeraj, and Meghana isn't fit to be queen."

"Then you shall not remarry, father. Pick a woman from Arquon or abdicate to marry a foreigner."

His father scoffed. "You want to be king at fifteen?" he asked incredulous.

"I only want that my mother's successor is from the southern kingdoms," he said proudly, noticing many counselors nodding their approval. Ramesh had been right in predicting the council's reaction.

His father stared at him, serious, then turned to the whole council. "Who backs up my son's claim?" he asked.

A murmur started going around the table, heads shaking everywhere.

"Your majesty, we weren't expecting what you suggested, nor your son's counter-proposal," Dharuna said at last. "Please allow us to discuss the matter and get back to you in the morning."

The king tightened his lips with a frown but nodded. Neeraj did his best to hide his happiness. He'd win over the majority and become king, unless his father gave up the silly idea of marrying a foreigner! He knew he could promise no more problems with the Sect to win votes as he controlled Ramesh – or so he thought.

***

"Why can't I make you smile today?" Bekah kissed Kushan's frowning forehead. He had come earlier than usual and her cuddles hadn't managed to relax him.

"The council backs Neeraj's claim. If I marry you I must give up the throne," he answered, gloomy.

"Well, you don't have to marry me to make me happy," she replied. "We don't have marriage in my home country, and very rarely a woman chooses a man for the rest of her life."

"I promised to make you queen."

"I don't need to become a powerless queen."

"That's all I can offer."

"Oh, mighty king, all I want from you is your body and your passion," she purred, moving her hand along his naked torso towards his navel.

He looked at her and didn't smile. "Then I don't want my throne either," he said. "And as my firstborn seems so eager to get it, I'm really considering the option."

She pulled back, shocked. "That's unheard of!" she protested. "Kushan of Arquon shouldn't give up his birthright|!"

He smiled ruefully. "I'm passing it to my son," he replied. "He would have inherited it anyway one day."

"But he's fifteen! He'll never be able to rule!"

"The Council will help him with that."

"And where would you go?" she worried.

"If I marry you, I'm bound to exile. I miss traveling..."

"And shouldn't your son start traveling now to open his mind and prepare him for his task?"

He stared at the carved ceiling and didn't answer. He looked tired and fed up. Thirty-something, a little more than ten years of reign, and he already had enough. The death of his wife must have hit him harder than she thought.

That night she dreamed of a handsome man, head and face shaved, a black dragon tattoo on his chest and a snake on his left arm, who leaned over her with a cruel smile.

"So you want to be queen of Arquon?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I'm a slave here."

He looked pleasantly surprised. "Do you want me to set you free?" he asked.

No matter how interesting the proposal was, she didn't like him.

"Who are you?" she asked instead of answering.

"You want to be free or not?" he replied.

"Not until I know the price."

He scoffed. "You are indeed a strong-minded, intelligent woman," he said. "We really don't need you here. You shall be free soon."

That said, he vanished from the dream. She woke up in anguish and wondered what was that about.

She felt Kushan breathing next to her in the darkness and she touched him to make sure he was real. He turned in his sleep, but didn't wake up, and she observed his face in the scarce light of a full moon night.

Why had she the impression that the tattooed man meant to hurt Kushan? And who was that man? Would she really soon be free?

***

Neeraj sat in Ramesh's lap while Meghana prostrated herself in front of the High Priest. The prince wasn't sure why his lover had summoned his father's concubine, but he had allowed him to talk to Meghana about the Sect and she had proved to be a willing ear. She wanted power and Neeraj knew Ramesh could grant her wishes – if she was willing to work with them.

"Is this Meghana?" Ramesh asked with mild curiosity, sliding a hand along his back and sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

"Yes," he answered, trying to control his need to kiss the High Priest and beg him to ignore her and take him to his bed. "She has a request, in fact."

Ramesh's hand stopped on his thigh and squeezed it, promising more, as he scoffed at Meghana. "She was your father's favorite," he said. "It's not in her bed that I saw him after your mother's death."

Meghana pulled her upper half up, but remained on her knees, her black eyes filled with anger.

"That's why I'm here, my lord," she said. "Prince Neeraj told me of the power you gave him. I have felt it when he took me here. I want to join the Sect if you can grant me my one wish."

"Let me guess," Ramesh replied. "You want Kushan."

"I have wanted him from the moment I entered his Garden," Meghana answered proudly. "Let me be his queen, and we'll both do your bidding."

"Except he thinks you're unfit and wants to marry somebody else. And I told her she will soon be free."

"No!" Meghana was determined. "I want her life as well."

"What do you have in mind?" Neeraj was intrigued by the passion he felt in her words.

"I will kill her under his eyes, and then he shall be mine," she said.

Neeraj's jaw dropped. He wasn't expecting such blood-lust in his father's concubine.

Slowly Ramesh started laughing. "By the Goddess, Meghana, you're as wicked as I am!" he said at last.

"Can you grant me what I ask?"

"Of course. The Goddess smiles on lustful, bloodthirsty, passionate people like you..."

"Will you hurt my father?" Neeraj asked, worried. He didn't like the foreigner, but a part of him still cared for the man who had sired him. The childish part who wasn't head-over-heels in love with Ramesh, that is.

"I love him, Prince Neeraj," Meghana answered. "I'd never hurt him. But the foreign bitch must die!"

***

The chief eunuch told Kushan Meghana wished to talk to him as he entered the Garden with the intention of heading for Bekah's room as it had become customary. He nodded with a sigh and went to Meghana's room instead.

His former favorite was in bed wearing only white pearls and her black hair loose. A staged welcome that used to fill him with passion but now only annoyed him.

"What do you want, Meghana?" he asked bluntly, seeing for the first time her courtesan manners. He had been blinded by lust, but now that his heart was filled with longing for another woman, he could see Meghana for what she really was: cold and calculating, and trained to seduce men with her beautiful body.

Her contrite looks didn't manage to soften him.

"I miss you," she purred. "My bed is so empty... I understand your sorrow for the loss of your wife, are you sure you don't want me to take care of you?" Her eyelids fluttered seductively, her lips ready to kiss.

"I already have someone who takes care of me, thank you," he replied. He was about to leave, but saw the warning flash in her eyes: she was going to throw one of her famous tantrums. But suddenly he didn't care.

She rose from the bed and sauntered to him, lips tight, eyes flashing with anger. "Kushan, you will not prefer me an untrained foreigner," she threatened, all naked as she was, stopping in front of him. He knew she had long nails (he had tried them in the past), but he wasn't scared.

"Meghana, you're a courtesan," he replied. "You will never be queen. You were born in the slums of Zarquon from a low-class prostitute. You should be grateful you managed to reach my Garden. Aiming for the throne is way beyond your possibilities."

"So you will put a foreigner on that throne?" she asked with a frown.

"I haven't decided yet," he admitted. "In her country marriage doesn't exist."

Meghana scoffed. "She disrespected you. She tried to run away. And then she seduced you," she said, sarcastic.

"It is none of your business," he retorted. "Keep to your place or I'll send you back to the streets of Zarquon."

He turned his back on her to leave and heard her scream, "No!". Something hit him and he lost consciousness before he could move one step towards the door.

He woke up in a windowless room lit by torches. He lay on a bed with black silken sheets, naked. Still dazed, he pulled himself up to look around and Meghana came in, again wearing only pearls and her hair.

"Meghana, where are we?" he asked, puzzled.

"The underground city of the Sect," she answered climbing on the bed, her eyes full of lust.

"What? How did we get here?"

"I wanted you here. You shall be mine, Kushan."

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, pushing her body against his. Too shocked to be aroused, he managed to push her away.

Anger filled him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I want you and I shall have you." She moved on him, but he slapped her, hard.

"Don't you dare," he said between clenched teeth. "I'm your king..."

"Need help, Meghana?"

Startled, Kushan turned around, finding a bald tattooed man sitting on the bed behind him. He must have appeared from nowhere, through some sort of magic spell, as the door was the other way.

"Who are you?" the king asked.

"Ramesh, High Priest of the Sect," the answer was given with a mocking bow of the head. "I easily seduced your son, but Meghana doesn't seem to be as good as I am at taming royal blood." His smile was more a sneer.

Kushan gaped at him. So, this was his enemy. And his way into the palace had been Neeraj? Of course, the lonely life of a prince heir had made it easy for that... sorcerer to get to Neeraj! Where they all doomed now?

"He's beautiful, Meghana," Ramesh continued. "Do you want me to hold him for you?"

"Yes!"

Kushan turned back to Meghana, incredulous. She closed his mouth with hers before he could protest again. He felt Ramesh grabbing his arms and soon he was panting, trying to regain control, to free himself from Meghana's touch, Ramesh's hands, both their bodies surrounding him, touching him, kissing him like nobody had ever dared, not knowing if he was ashamed, aroused or what. He felt weak and didn't recognize his former favorite in the sex crazed woman who was sharing him with another man and even gagged him with her tongue when Ramesh humiliated him, muffling his scream of pain into a moan.

Unable to get rid of them, feeling darkness choking him, he lost consciousness again.

***

"Do you want to assist your father during the sacrifice?" Ramesh asked, holding Neeraj tight.

"Do you really think we should let Meghana do it?" the boy asked, worried.

"Well, she failed miserably in seducing him," Ramesh answered. "The Goddess will give him to her if she spills some blood."

Neeraj sighed. "I will be by his side, then," he decided.

Ramesh opened his arms and pushed him away. "Let's go, then. Dawn is close and we want him in our power before the palace notices he's gone."

Neeraj put his caftan back on and followed Ramesh to the Temple of the Goddess. It was empty and dark except for a couple of torches in the wall to the right of the entrance.

Neeraj had never noticed there was some sort of natural fountain there. The black liquid was very still and had an eerie luminescence. Chained to the wall between the torches and near the fountain, Neeraj saw his father wearing only a red loincloth. By the fountain, Meghana held one arm of Bekah, who had her hands tied behind her back.

"Neeraj, how could you?" His father's voice was almost a whisper and he realized Ramesh had one arm around his shoulder. Instead of answering his father's reproach, he turned beaming to his lover: so it was official now, they were together! As if reading his mind, Ramesh nodded with a smile.

"May I proceed?" Meghana asked sharply.

Ramesh nodded. Meghana wore the blood-red sari of the Sect over a black bodice and had a very sharp knife hidden in the creases of her skirt. She pulled it out and the silver gleam immediately caught Kushan's attention.

"Meghana, what are you doing?" he asked with a hint of panic. Neeraj noticed he didn't look a mighty king anymore. Ramesh was more powerful than him. And at the moment, so was Meghana.

"She dies," Meghana spat. "You become mine."

"No! Meghana, don't!"

"Ramesh, keep his mouth shut."

"As much as I liked kissing him, I prefer his son," Ramesh said mockingly. But he made a gesture and darkness filled Kushan's mouth, gagging him.

"You kissed my father?" Neeraj frowned, feeling jealous of his own blood.

"I was helping Meghana," Ramesh explained pleasantly. "Do you think she'll need my help with that woman as well?"

"No!" Meghana assured.

"You said I would be free," Bekah said, staring at Ramesh.

"Things changed," the High Priest replied. "I thought if I set you free, you'd come back to try to save him," he pointed at Kushan with his chin.

Bekah slowly smiled. "Probably," she nodded. "Why don't you give me a chance, though? Allow me to defend myself. If Meghana is so eager to kill me, she might as well struggle for it."

"You know the sword dance," Meghana said venomously. "Therefore no, you're not allowed to defend yourself. I wasn't trained to use weapons."

"But you're holding a knife. Do you know where to strike?"

Meghana narrowed her eyes, staring at her rival with hatred. "I think I do," she answered.

She moved her arm so fast Neeraj almost didn't see it. She aimed for the neck and didn't miss.

Neeraj heard his father scream in spite of the gag. He watched Meghana drink Bekah's blood then throwing the body in the fountain where it vanished without a splash.

Kushan was still screaming when Meghana went to him, still licking blood from her lips. She kissed him hungrily, probably drinking the darkness gagging him, or maybe it had just disappeared when their mouths met, Neeraj wasn't sure.

The scream stopped, turned into a moan. And when Meghana pulled away, Kushan started laughing. A manic laughter that sent the creeps down Neeraj spine. As a spell opened the chains, releasing the prisoner, Neeraj watched in horror as any trace of sweetness vanished from his father's traits.

Ramesh pulled him away as Meghana took what she wanted.

***

Dharuna reached Argantael, capital or Rajendra, alone and on foot. He had been kicked out of the Arquon Royal Council after years of faithful service, but his own disgrace was nothing compared to what he had witnessed since the death of Queen Sharmila. He felt the kingdom of Arquon was doomed and that former Princess Priyanka, now queen of Rajendra, needed to know what had befallen her brother.

King Arjun welcomed him as if he were still the Chief Adviser of the Arquon Council, and even when he told him he had been dismissed, King Arjun insisted on paying respect to his gray beard. The king of Rajendra was hungry for news as in the past two months his beloved Priyanka had vainly waited for a letter from her brother. King Arjun wanted Dharuna to speak in front of his wife, but he begged to speak with him in private first.

Thus King Arjun sat with him in a cabinet and he related the death of Queen Sharmila, saying the good news first: little Mahesh would probably survive his mother. Then it was time for the bad news.

"King Kushan meant to marry the slave you sent him, your majesty. Apparently Queen Sharmila had given him her permission."

"But she wasn't noble, and a foreigner," King Arjun said, puzzled.

Dharuna nodded with a sigh. "That's exactly what Prince Neeraj said. Either his father married someone from the southern kingdoms or he shouldn't remarry. The king had told the slave he'd marry her, but she wasn't very interested. Not if that meant he must abdicate and be exiled."

Kind Arjun nodded, thoughtful. "I knew he'd like her. She was wise," he said.

"Unfortunately the Sect had infiltrated the palace. They High Priest had seduced Prince Neeraj, and with their help Meghana killed the slave. And the king..."

Dharuna paused, thinking back at what his beloved king had become. "They broke his heart and he lost his mind. He allowed Ramesh and Ajay in the Royal Council – two Sect members of dubious origins – and let them and Neeraj rule while he had daily orgies with Meghana and the other women of his Garden. He ignored his children, his subjects, and let everything in Ramesh's hands. They had kicked me out of the Council, but I still had access to the palace so I saw... I witnessed..."

He paused again, looked at King Arjun's worried face. He wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Is Kushan still alive?" the king of Rajendra asked.

"No." Dharuna shook his head. "One night at an orgy someone strangled him. He died of erotic asphyxiation."

King Arjun's jaw dropped.

"Now you know why I didn't want to speak with his sister," Dharuna said. "I hear she's pregnant."

"Our second baby is on its way," King Arjun nodded, still incredulous. "Oh, Gods, how am I going to tell her that her beloved brother is dead?"

"Maybe we should tell her the Sect killed him, which is the truth," Dharuna suggested.

King Arjun nodded, thoughtful. His wife was much younger than her late brother and she adored him. Maybe they should wait to tell her the sad news.

But then she came in the cabinet, with her big belly and holding little Tarun's hand.

"Dharuna!" She brightened, recognizing her father and brother's counselor. It became impossible hiding the truth from her.

Her sorrow took her to the tomb shortly after the deliver of a baby girl she named Indira like her mother. Dharuna and King Arjun both knew if it were a boy she'd have called him Kushan.