My mouth was full of food and I took my time finishing. Just because he was a barbarian, didn't mean I had to act like one as well. I was a queen. He? Well, as best I could tell, he was just a mercenary. And not a very bright one. He scowled at me, his eyes shadowed by a long, tangled mess created by eyebrows that desperately needed trimming. I guessed his age to be near sixty, the lines around his eyes and mouth were deep and not pleasant. He was lean, not fat, but the lack of weight deepened the lines in his face, aging him as if he’d lived a hard life, half-starved and tired. His skin was burned a deep red, as if he’d started off a nice brown but been baked by the sun so many times his body have given up healing. But that burnt-on color was broken in a long, white, hooked scar that started at the left corner of his mouth and ended just below his jawline, as if he’d been caught by a fisherman’s hook and torn his cheek to pieces breaking free. He wore a bland soldier’s uniform with no insignia or markings to indicate his rank. But he was clearly in charge aboard this ship. The other, younger soldiers cowered in fear whenever he was near, as if readying themselves to be beaten.
“Tell your master that I haven't seen the jewels in almost thirty years,” I told him.
“They could be anywhere.”
“You are not a good liar.”
“I am not lying.”
His smile was wide, calculating, his eyes narrow as he scowled. "Trinity is making quite a spectacle of herself." He waved his hand and one of the guards who'd helped him beat me just hours ago touched a control pad, changing the scene on the large screen to that of my daughter. “As you can see, she is not wearing the jewels. Nor is she taking the crown, insisting that so long as you live, you are the rightful queen.”
I watched as Trinity stood on the steps of my old family home, the palace in Mytikas. I recognized the stonework, the plantings, the grand entry. It had not changed. She had, though. Her usual jeans and t-shirt were replaced with a breathtaking gown, sparkling like white fire and diamonds on top, the long skirt a pool of dark red blood and power. She looked magnificent with her long blonde hair, makeup. Her chin was tilted up, shoulders back. She was Aleran through and through, nobility was in her DNA. She looked like a queen.
My chest squeezed tight as I watched the short recording play through again and again, obviously on some kind of loop. Pride and love filled me up until my eyes overflowed with the emotions clogging them. I could have held them back, but I didn't see any reason to. The asshole next to me wouldn't understand what the tears truly meant. He would assume I was upset. Sad.
The opposite was, in fact, the case. I had never been so fiercely proud, so confident in my daughters. They were warrior queens. Strong. Smart. Alera didn't need me. Not anymore. Not when they were so ready to lead. I drank more water, ate another berry, all as my captor watched me like a snake about to strike.
“The jewels will not help your master now. They are of no value, not with Trinity on the throne.”
He laughed, dashing my mood. “So naive. You think the fact that you bred daughters will stop my masters? They eliminated the entire royal bloodline, every single one of you capable of carrying the gifts.”
My head jerked up and my eyes were wide with shock before I could control my reaction to his words.
“Oh, yes, Celene. We know about the secret gifts bestowed upon you by the citadel itself.”
My heart pounded, but I maintained the queen’s reserve. “I don't know what you're talking about.” Deny, deny, deny. “What gifts? The light of the spire is a gift to the people. That is the only gift.”
Maybe he was bluffing. No one spoke of the psychic and telepathic gifts outside of the family. No one. It was forbidden, therefore, no one should know about them.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the matted remains of what once must have been a full head of hair. The greasy strands looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks. “I wonder what gift your daughter received,” he replied, ignoring my words. Standing, he lifted his chin to the guard. “Take her back to her cell.”
I stood; I wouldn’t be yanked from my chair. The guard grabbed my elbow and I let him lead me away. I was unhurt at the moment. My stomach was full. Trinity was in the palace. Destiny and Faith were, as yet, unknown on the planet. Everything appeared to be going according to the plan my daughters and I had agreed upon years ago. Patience. Faith. Trust.
“And, Celene?”
I turned my head at my captor’s voice. The guard stopped, allowing me to stand still to listen.
“It doesn't matter what gift she has. The gifts didn't save your parents. They didn’t save your husband. You might have hidden for decades, but they didn't save you either. And they won't save your daughters.”
1
Trinity
I could sense almost immediately that it wasn’t Leo in bed with me. It took my brain an extra few seconds to catch up. The feel of his hand on my skin was different. Damp with sweat and none of the callouses I was now familiar with on Leo’s palms. Leo had hair on his chest and the one pressed against my back was bare. Smooth. The cock nestled at the crease of my bottom was definitely not Leo’s. It felt disturbing and… insufficient. It was the voice though, that kicked my brain into gear.
“I saw you today, Trinity, and knew you were going to be mine.”
I was already Leo’s and no one else’s. My eyes popped open but I could barely see the outline of furniture because of the thick drapes. Before I could jump from the bed, he shifted and pulled me onto my back. A leg was thrown over mine, a knee nestled at the juncture of my thighs.
I knew he hovered over me, for his hot breath fanned my skin.
“Who… who are you?” I asked, pushing against his chest. It was too dark to do more than see a silhouette of him. I could tell he had dark hair, his skin was pale. While he wasn’t as large as Leo, he wasn’t small. I cringed at the feeling of his cock pressed against me.
“Do not panic, Princess. I am the Royal Consort. I will not hurt you.” He gave a small laugh. “I know of your Ardor. I am here to help. I will bring you much pleasure.”
Yeah, right. I didn’t care that he was a fricking gigolo and it was his job to hop into bed with every single royal. I didn’t want anything to do with him. While I didn’t fear he would rape me, since I knew from Cassander that consorts had women willing and eager to fall onto their cocks, still, I didn’t like this vulnerability.
“I’m all good on pleasure, so your services aren’t needed,” I countered. “Let me up.”