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Authors: Adonis Devereux

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You didn’t want him
to be alone with me?” Darien rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.
“Why not?”


Because
he is beautiful.”
Saerileth
looked down into Darien’s eyes. “And you and he have obviously been together
often—”

Darien did not allow her to finish. “He’s never to touch
you again, Saerileth. Do you hear me? I’m sorry I let him anywhere near you.”

Saerileth laughed lightly. “I didn’t mind what he did to
me.”


Yes, you did.” Darien
traced her lip with his thumb. “I saw how you went still at the end, how you
took no pleasure from what we did.”


Yes, how I took no
pleasure when you left me to fuck him.” Saerileth turned her face to kiss his
palm. “And you finished in Kamen, not in me. How could I have any pleasure
then?”

Darien crushed her against his chest. “
Abrexa
chain me! You were jealous of me?”

Saerileth felt her cheeks burning with an unfamiliar blush.
No Lotus ever blushed, at least not without meaning to. “Yes.” The word was a
whisper. She closed her eyes to hide her embarrassment, but soon it vanished.
She was, she freely admitted to herself, the world’s worst Lotus when she was
near Darien, but that was inevitable. He had been, though nameless, her
childhood hero and savior, and as she had grown into a woman, her memory of him
had drawn her desire. Then to have met him by chance after becoming a
woman,
and to owe to him her life a second time – how was
any woman to resist? And even apart from what she owed him, he was Darien.
Darien, the pinnacle of manly perfection.
Darien, the
massive beauty who had shown her more pleasure than she thought possible.
Darien, the man who loved her.
Darien, the man she loved.


Well, my Lotus, you
needn’t worry about Kamen and me!” Darien laughed, interrupting Saerileth’s
meditation on his own loveliness. “I’ve never thought of him that way. I don’t
actually like to have sex with men. I can do it because it’s a custom, and I’ve
had experience doing it.
Common quarters is
a required
practice in the
Sunjaa
military.”

Saerileth smiled and surrendered, perforce, to Darien’s
possessive kiss, but she knew perfectly well that Kamen
did
think of
Darien that way. Kamen was in love with Darien, and she did not doubt that he
would try again to steal Darien from her.

That, she resolved, should never happen.

 

Chapter Six

 

Darien’s hired staff filled the wide entryway of his house.
The men wore simple, linen skirts, and the women were clad in dresses of the
same material. They all stood with their hands folded before them, and they
cast their gazes to the floor. Beside them were reed baskets full of fresh
flowers and flower petals. The servants behaved just as Saerileth had
instructed them to: they were quiet and attentive, ready to serve. The
musicians strummed their lyres, plucked their lutes, and played their harps in
another room, and Darien could hear the music flowing through his house like
perfume. The master of the house looked down at himself and pressed his hands
down upon the wide gold and onyx necklace that rested on his shoulders. His
belt matched the colors of his jewelry. Saerileth stood beside him, and she
looked exquisite, more beautiful than Darien had yet seen her. She wore a
crimson dress of Zenji fashion, and her
pallav
was
red and black. Her long black hair was twisted into a crown of braids that left
her neck exposed, and stray locks had been styled to purposely fall past her
ear and across her cheek. She was to Darien a queen, the most beautiful thing
to ever grace the world of Gilalion with her presence, and Darien accounted
himself the luckiest
Sunjaa
to have ever lived. He
wanted to kiss her just then, but he did not dare. He was afraid of smudging
her make-up or smearing her lipstick. When she returned his adoring gaze,
Darien wished the party were already done, though it had not yet begun.

Darien stared at the front doors of his house that stood
open to the night. Torches burned on his front porch, a warm invitation to his
guests on a night which was quickly growing chilly. Such was the climate of the
desert, though the shifts in temperature were not so drastic near the river. In
the dunes, however, a man would either freeze or burn. Darien let his mind
wander to the past, to old campaigns against the war-like
Vadal
in the north, of crossing the desert, of hunting pirates at sea.
Anything to keep his mind from his current situation.
This
was to be his introduction into high society. Though he had left all the
invitations to Saerileth, trusting her to choose the right people, he dreaded
his guests’ arrival. What would he say to them? What if he blundered somehow?
He had hanged criminals from his yardarm; he had stood shoulder-to-shoulder
with men and watched them die pierced with arrows; he had taken the heads of
countless enemies. And yet he did not have the confidence to stand proud before
his betters?

That was just the thing. Were they his betters? As a
commoner, Darien had grown up with a keen sense of inferiority, but he was
proud as the eagle that soars over the endless sands of the
Sunjaa
kingdom. He had resolved at a very young age to make a name for himself, to
earn his fortune and fame, and be beholden to no man. Darien drew himself up at
the thought. He had risen through the ranks solely on his merit; everything he
had he had earned. It was no accident of birth that gave him a fine house and
vast riches. He claimed what he wanted, and now he could reap the rewards of
his success. He grabbed Saerileth around her tiny waist with one arm and
crushed her to his side.

Saerileth laughed, slipped away, and laid her arm on his,
assuming the stance of hostess. “Your first guests arrive.”

Darien looked to the door. He heard nothing. But then, a
few moments later, he saw a long train of rich and important people
approaching. He did not recognize them, but they had decked their bodies in the
richest jewels, and they rode in slave-borne litters. They entered his house
and bowed, invoking the traditional blessing of
Elendrie
in Darien’s foyer. “The
Earthmother
share her wealth
with you.” The words were repeated endlessly, and each time the guest would
drop a few grains of wheat by the door. There would be a fair pile there by the
end of the night.

Darien waited for the guests to approach him, and then he
listened to Saerileth as she rattled off their names. She held no paper; she
was not prompted in any way. She must have simply memorized the names and the
order in which the guests were to arrive. Darien offered a low bow to each of
his guests, honoring them as was
Sunjaa
custom,
bidding them to partake of all that was his. A guest in a
Sunjaa
house was like a god, and nothing within reason could be denied him. They might
eat and drink Darien out of house and home, but it would be his duty to make
sure the beer never stopped flowing, that the trays were always full of food.
These little concerns niggled at him, and he leaned down to whisper in
Saerileth’s ear.

But she shook her head and shot Darien a grave look, even
though her smile never broke. “I have taken care of everything.”

What more could Darien ask for? Saerileth was a Red Lotus,
skilled not only in love and seduction but also in entertainment, heraldry,
etiquette, and many more social arts. He turned back to his ever-flowing river
of guests and smiled. He would leave everything to her, but he could not wait
to get her alone.

It did not pass Darien’s notice that everyone who came into
his house looked about critically, clearly trying to find fault with the house
of a commoner, rich though he may be. But what warmed his heart with pride more
than anything else
was
not his paintings or his marble
columns or his mosaics. It was the way everyone looked at Saerileth. Their
expressions would transform from disdain to shock. Darien had somehow managed
to get himself a Lotus, that rare Zenji prize. He had managed to keep her and
convince her to stand as hostess. With Saerileth by his side, Darien rose in
their estimation. Passing the couple, the guests received floral crowns and
wreaths from the servants, and they would be expected to wear them until the
feast began. The
Sunjaa
were an ancient people, so
their customs were naturally complex and strictly adhered to.

Kamen entered the house, bowed, and gave the domicile his
blessing. He and Darien embraced, but it was awkward for Darien, for his
feelings lay between them. All he saw in his mind’s eye was Kamen’s cock buried
in Saerileth’s ass.


You look
magnificent,” Kamen said, stepping back to admire Darien’s figure.


Thank you, Kamen.” Darien
gestured helplessly toward his friend. “You, well—”

Kamen waved away the comment before it was said. “I’m used
to the sinfully expensive clothes.” He smelled of sandalwood, exotic and
masculine.

Darien could not deny how handsome Kamen looked that evening.
A black and gold silk scarf held his dreadlocks back, allowing them to sweep up
his head and fall over his bare shoulders. He wore silver, hoop nipple rings
that only served to draw attention to his chiseled chest and defined abs.
Darien was keenly aware of the tattoo they shared, and he looked over at
Saerileth. But if Saerileth was in any way discomposed by Kamen’s presence, she
did not show it. She smiled easily at him and welcomed him with no greater or
less feeling than she greeted any of the other guests.

Kamen entered the house and disappeared in the growing
crowd of mingling partygoers. Saerileth squeezed Darien’s hand, and that was
all the reassurance he needed. He returned his attention to the next arrival.

Darien was just getting comfortable and growing used to the
bowing and smiling and instantly forgetting everyone’s names when he spotted
Ulen
Ahnok
, his former commander. Darien had not seen
him for years, and he was surprised at how unkind the time had been to Ulen.
The man he remembered had been full of youthful vigor, his muscles rippling
beneath his dark skin, but this man who walked toward him had lost that
physique. His beer gut revealed the manner in which he had spent his
retirement. Ulen had always loved to drink, even while on duty, but his natural
youth had covered such abuse. But the years had caught up with him. Darien
could assume that he no longer exercised as he once had; certainly he went on
no long marches. Ulen was bleary-eyed, and his care-worn face displayed little
of the man Darien had once known.


Darien,” Ulen called
out, his white teeth standing out against his dark lips. “How long has it
been?” He reached out to embrace him, and though Darien did not want to, he
opened his arms to welcome his former leader. The last time they had seen each
other, Ulen had had him flogged for disobedience. That was the day Darien left
the navy and joined the army, not willing to serve under a man who had dealt
him such an injustice.

Ulen glanced sideways for a moment, and his arms fell. His
false smile evaporated, and the false cheer that gleamed in his eyes dulled.
His smile morphed into thin-lipped anger.
“The Lotus.”
He stared at Saerileth. “You have her.” His voice was but a whisper, though it
trembled with emotion.

Darien’s first reaction was to put his arm around
Saerileth. She leaned into him.
The Lotus.
Saerileth
had been lost at sea. She had told Darien about how she had been bound for
Arinport, that she had been purchased.
Ulen?
Was Ulen
the buyer? Darien looked down at Saerileth, but she did not return his stare.
Instead, she maintained her practiced smile and spoke gracefully to Ulen as if
he were no different from any of Darien’s other guests. She must not have known
that Ulen was her buyer.


Welcome to the House
of Darien,” she said in flawless
Sunjaa
, repeating
the greeting she had given everyone else. “His house is yours. Come, and eat
your fill as
Jehiel
at
Elendrie’s
board.” And she bowed.

Ulen only stared. His fury radiated from him like light and
heat. Darien wondered if he might lash out and strike either Saerileth or
himself. Though he did not move, his muscles tensed, and he stood vigilant. But
Ulen was holding up the line, and though he moved past the couple and received
his floral crown and wreath, he did so with an ill grace. He grumbled and
stared, muttered and cursed. Darien watched from the corner of his eye as Ulen
took a glass of beer from a tray and guzzled it. Words would pass between them
before the night was through, Darien was sure of it.

Once all the guests had arrived, Saerileth played the
perfect hostess by calling for a toast to Darien’s health, after which
entertainment ensued. Oboes accompanied the string instruments, and as Darien
listened from his seat of honor – everyone else sat on lower stools or lounged
on pillows – he thought about the dulcimer he had commissioned for Saerileth.
He planned to give it to her at this party, and he took pride in the fact that
she played her instrument better than any of the professional musicians there.
Topless dancing girls clad in jewels and translucent, flowing skirts and not
much more twirled and jumped through the house, interacting with the male
guests in suggestive ways. Lithe acrobats came next, twisting their bodies and
flipping all around the place. Darien found it all rather distracting, but he
applauded and laughed where appropriate. If nothing else, he marveled at
Saerileth’s ability to so quickly organize such a complex party as this was
turning out to be.

BOOK: The Soldier's Lotus
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ads

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