House of Lust (65 page)

Both men watched as Argan slowly walked towards them, and then flopped into his chair with a sigh.  Mr. Sen tutted with disapproval.  “Young Prince, you must attend your lessons if you are to learn how to be a good ruler.  You look exhausted – do you have an explanation?”

Argan nodded wearily, but Thetos grunted with amusement.  “Metila told me, sire.  Was it painful?”

“I carry the wounds, Thetos,” Argan said simply, wincing as a shaft of pain coursed through his body.

Mr. Sen frowned and looked to each.  “I’m sorry, is there something I’m missing?”

“My apologies, Mr. Sen,” Argan said with a sigh, “my personal servant, Amal, was suddenly taken unwell and needed my close attendance to help her through it all.”

“But – we surely have medical people here for that,” Mr. Sen looked confused.  “What was wrong with the poor girl?  Is she bad?”

“Oh, no, she’s well on the way to recovery, and she’s probably feeling much better than I am right now.”

Thetos guffawed.  “I bet, sire.  Your first woman?”

Argan nodded.

Thetos slapped his thigh.  “By the gods!  Your first time and with a Bragalese woman, and at her Growing Through moment!  My admiration, sire, you certainly don’t do things by half!” 

Mr. Sen still looked baffled.  Thetos chuckled and pointed at Argan who was fighting to stay awake opposite them.  “Bragalese women are passionate, and the first time they – get the urge – they go through this very dangerous phase which needs a man of strength and courage to – ah – cope with their urges.  The Prince here volunteered to help Amal, and that is the result.  You must give him a bit of lassitude – it’s one courageous act, I can tell you!”

“Hmph!” Mr. Sen clearly was not impressed.  “Be that as it may, Governor, my tutoring is of the most importance to the Prince here, and he would be far better learning the ways of running a province than running after a woman.”  He gave Argan the benefit of a very stern stare above his face-spectacles.

Thetos pulled himself out of his chair and grinned.  “Metila will bring me up to date with the details, so I won’t impose myself here any longer.” He bowed to Argan who waved languidly in response.  “Once again, sire, my congratulations, and admiration!”  Chuckling, he left.

Argan looked at his tutor who was peering at him in a most unamused manner.  “Please, Mr. Sen, I’m very tired and really want my bed – but I thought it best I show myself here.”

“Hmph!”

“Tell me, tutor,” Argan said, sitting up straighter, “would you say I would make a good emperor or not?”

Mr. Sen thought for a moment, his disapproval forgotten.  What a strange question to ask!  “Sire, why do you ask me that?  I have little knowledge what goes to make a good emperor.  Is your father a good emperor?”

“Of course!  He’s saved Kastania.  That must be a good emperor, surely.”

Mr. Sen made a non-committal gesture.  “Yet you would find many people who would disagree – particularly those whom he has defeated or displaced.  He has used force to get his way, when other emperors have used diplomacy.  A good emperor?  For some, yes, for others, no.”

“Mr. Sen, if you were not my tutor I would take you to task for saying that about my father.”

The rotund man nodded, folding his hands about his large belly.  “I know I am safe in discussing such things with you, sire, as you are much more reasonable than your father in listening to an argument.  Whether you could have done what your father has done, I would say not, as you do not have that ruthless streak in you, yet you could be a great emperor given different circumstances.”

“Mr. Sen, that is a very diplomatic answer.  You have taught me much in these few moments.  I shall have to go and consider it all and learn how to give an answer I don’t want in a way that may not offend.”  He got up and bowed.  “I shall see you tomorrow, normal time, here.  My lessons shall continue.”

Mr. Sen stood up, taken aback, and bowed back.  He was left there in the room, wondering just how he had managed to have been outmanoeuvred by a sixteen year old.

Argan lay on his bed, his tunic off, dressed just in his leggings, thinking deeply on Metila’s words. 
You would not make a good emperor
.  It troubled him.  Did people see him in that way?  Not a good potential emperor?  Why was that?  He always thought being good was looking after the land, the people and the facilities.  Take care of them and they would take care of you.

Clearly there was more – was it because he lacked the military toughness of his father?  He was adept at riding, at swordsmanship, and in the classroom his theory in tactics had been approved by Mr. Sen.  Clearly, though, there was something he lacked that Metila had seen.  What was it?

He was still thinking that over when Amal entered the room and bowed, as she normally did.  She had not cleaned the room, naturally, so Argan hadn’t complained.  He looked at her, noting her physique and pose.  She seemed to be waiting for him to speak.  “How are you, Amal?”

“Much better thank you,
Lakhani
.  Metila helped me greatly.  I feel so much better now.  And you?  Those scratches….” She eyed the marks on Argan.

The prince ran a finger over one.  The paste Metila had put on them had mostly gone, flaking off, and now many of the wounds itched.  A few still hurt, but the pain was much less.  The skin was red around them still.  “Oh, I’m recovering.  Very tired, but I think a good night’s sleep will sort me out.”

The two paused, seemingly waiting for the other to speak.  Finally Argan decided to take charge.  He sat up straighter, his back against the wall.  “Amal, please remove all your clothing.”

She smiled, and complied readily, divesting herself of everything in moments.  She stood before him, by the end of the bed.  “Do I please you,
Lakhani
?”

“Very much, Amal.  Come closer, kneel either side of my legs, so I can look at you better.”

The Bragalese servant slipped onto the bed and slid up his legs, stopping close to his loins, her own aching for him, but waiting.  She tingled with anticipation, her sexual awakening fully upon her.  She marvelled at the change in her; two days ago she would never have even considered this, yet here she was, screaming in her mind for Argan to take her and make love to her.

Argan placed his hands on her arms and slowly looked at her face.  The skin seemed to glow.  Her eyes were surely bigger, wonderfully oval in shape, maybe even narrower than that, with that fabulously deep brown pair of irises.  Her lips were fuller, more enticing, and he so badly wanted to kiss them.  “It’s very strange,” he said almost absently, “but I never before really looked at you, to see just how beautiful you are.”

Amal’s heart leaped.  She felt a rush of blood to her face and she looked down.  Argan’s finger went to her dimpled chin and gently lifted her head back up.  She saw he was smiling at her, and she smiled back.  “
L-Lakhani
,” her voice faltered.

“Amal – I cannot think of anyone else who is so desirable and wonderful, and lovely to be with.  Not just because you are a woman, but because you are so kind and caring and a very good friend, and I wish for no other to be here now.”

Amal fought back tears of happiness.  “I do not wish to be with anyone else, my lord – the gods were kind to me the day I was appointed to serve you.  Ever since the day we met – you have been kind and thoughtful to me.  It does not matter that you are a prince, if you were not I would still want to be here.”

“And now each of us want the other for another reason.”

She nodded.  “I want to know how to please you.”

“You do, Amal.  Just by being here.”

She looked down at herself.  “Am I really so pleasing to you?  I am very slim – and do not have the curves some Kastanian women have.”

“Do not think of yourself as unattractive, Amal.  You are as good as a dream.”

She smiled, leaning into his hand as it stroked her cheek.  “I shall do my best to be that dream.”

“I have plenty to learn, too, Amal.  Yet tonight I am still tired, and do not think I can begin.  I do need sleep.”

“Oh,” she was disappointed. 

“Fear not, Amal, sleep with me tonight, and who knows, in the morning, before we have to start our duties, we may begin it the best way possible.”

Nodding, she slid up under one of his arms and cuddled into him, putting an arm over his chest and holding him tight.  He lay down and after a few moments of shifting about, they both got comfortable, lying with their arms around one another, staring into each other’s eyes, until Argan’s grew heavy and he slipped into a happy, comfortable sleep.

Alenna…….…              Wife of Vosgaris

Amal………….              Bragalese servant to Argan, also known as Sasia

Amne…………              Daughter of Astiras, wife of Elas

Argan…………              Son of Astiras and Isbel, Prince of the West

Astiras……….              Emperor of Kastania

Bevil…………..              Officer in Zofela imperial garrison

Cherisse……..              Healer in Niake, lover of Vosgaris

Clora………….              Wife of Demtro, former whore and spy

Demtro…..…              Merchant in Niake, spy in employ of Isbel

Deran Loshar.…Tybar renegade, commander of mounted imperial archers

Dragan Purfin…Rebellious nobleman, having affair with Amne

Elas..……………….Prince of Kastan, married to Amne, governor of Frasia

Fostan Telekan..Young officer in Kastan City, lover of Amne

Frendicus…………Principle taxman of the empire

Ganag Meri……..Mazag ambassador in Zofela

Gaurel Branas….Former high priest, exiled in Niake

Gavan………………Bodyguard of Jorqel

Iovan Sen…………Tutor of Argan

Isbel Koros……….Empress, mother of Argan and Istan

Istan ………………..Youngest son of Astiras and Isbel

Jorqel ……………..Heir to the throne, eldest son of Astiras

Kerrin Afos……              Friend of Argan, bodyguard in training

Klandesi……              Bastard child of Astiras and Metila

Lalaas……              Captain of Kastan Guard, confidant to Amne

Metila……              Bragalese witch, lover of Thetos Olskan

Pepil……              Major Domo in Zofela

Sannia……              Wife of Jorqel

Thetos Olskan…Governor in Turslenka, lover of Metila

Vazil/Vasila……              Sister of Vosgaris, spy in Kornith disguised as priest

Velka Varaz……              Betrothed to Argan

Vosgaris……              Officer in Zofela, former lover of Amne

With the resumption of war with Venn, the Kastanian Empire faces an uncertain future.  To emperor Astiras Koros, it is clear his two youngest sons, Argan and Istan, will have to take up their senior duties as soon as they old enough to do so.

For Argan this means knowing how to govern and rule benignly, and to learn how to be the ideal warrior prince.  He believes that he must have pride in what he does, in order for both himself and everyone else to take his princely duties seriously.  But what Argan doesn’t realise is that pride can blind him to some simple truths that could seriously undermine his efforts, especially when rival Houses see him as a danger to them ever gaining power again in the Empire.

One person, though, sees the danger.  Amal, Argan’s servant girl and lover, knows she must try to keep the adolescent prince on the right path, even if it means jeopardising the two youngsters’ new found love for each other.  For if she fails, she fears that one of the rival Houses will succeed in bringing him down.