Chapter 16
In the four days that had passed since Dae’s departure from the reformatory, the air of liberation that accompanied her presence had been soured by fear and anxiety. Lyric saw it in the cautious way the other women began interacting with one another—the sudden hesitancy to let intimate touches linger, the way they flinched away from even innocent gestures of affection. She could hear it in the subtle strain that tightened their voices whenever they discussed what the future might hold for them, now that the one protecting them was gone. Although Dae had returned a few times with Kaylee to visit her friends, offering assurances that she was speaking with her father on their behalf, the tension and uncertainty were not so easily quelled.
Father Douglas, who had scarcely been seen these last few weeks, began walking the halls of his reformatory once again, and conversations grew silent whenever the thud of his cane upon the wooden floorboards approached. Lyric had noticed the eager gleam in his eyes whenever he joined them at mealtimes, the smug expression on his thin, wrinkled face. He was clearly looking forward to reestablishing his former control and authority.
Preoccupied with her own inner turmoil, Lyric tried her best to maintain an aloof demeanor…but it seemed a reckoning was on the horizon.
Then this morning, Douglas failed to make an appearance during breakfast in the dining hall, and his subordinate priests announced that before any work commenced, the young women were summoned to attend a meeting in the monastery. Everybody ate in silence, but their fear was palpable. Like the others, Lyric assumed the reason for this assembly was so Douglas could formally declare that the fun and games were over. That every transgression would be answered for in suffering, every act of rebellion disciplined in the old, familiar way.
Lyric joined the other women as they filed nervously into the temple, only to find that Douglas was nowhere to be seen. Instead of the aged priest, they were met by a tall, well-built man dressed in noble finery, accompanied by two guards. His sandy-brown hair and beard were going to grey, but he carried himself with the bearing and grace of a nobleman. Although she’d never met the man personally, Lyric knew this to be Lord Richard of Everdeen himself, and a low murmur rippled through the gathering as those around her realized who had summoned them here.
“Thank you all for coming, ladies,” he stated as they filed into the hall. “If you could all find a seat, please…thank you.”
Lyric quickly took a seat far to the rear of the monastery, somewhere inconspicuous and close to the entrance so she could retreat quickly once this meeting was over. When everybody was settled, Richard addressed the gathering.
“I understand that, given the tensions and changes that have arisen since my daughter came among you, many of you have concerns about how her departure will affect your own lives. In the interest of silencing any false rumors before they find voice, I thought it best to clarify the situation as it presently stands. Father Douglas has served as overseer of this monastery and its attendant services for many decades, and while his methods may at times have been questionable, I believe he was only applying the teachings of Tarsis in what he felt to be the best interests of society. However, after giving careful thought to the matter, considering both the good Father’s advancing years and the new alliance forged between my House and the Scion of the Jaharri, I have decided that Douglas has earned the peace and honor of a quiet retirement. To that end, he has vacated his position and is now journeying to the High Temple of Tarsis in Farlon…where I’ve no doubt he shall be well received by the others of his Order.”
This statement precipitated another buzz of excited whisperings. Even Lyric was surprised. Although the monastery fell under the jurisdiction of the priesthood, as its patron Lord Everdeen still wielded a certain amount of influence over its management. Given how vociferously he’d objected to his daughter’s union with the Scion, it had seemed impossible that Dae would convince Richard to get involved in this matter. Apparently, she’d underestimated him. Lyric found herself approving of how Richard had handled the situation—he could have ordered Douglas to attend this assembly, could have added to his humiliation by making his fall from grace a public spectacle. Instead, he’d allowed the man to slip away quietly, letting him retain whatever small amount of dignity remained to him. The old man was a sanctimonious wretch, true…but no more so than most who served the will of Tarsis, be they priest, pilgrim, or magistrate.
Richard allowed the whisperings to continue for a long moment before raising his hand calmly to call for silence. “Now…I know many of you must be wondering what the future now holds. Let me first assure you all that I have no intention of displacing any who have no place else to go. My advisor has already sent word to the Order of Tarsis asking for expressions of interest from any who might wish to take up the position now left vacant. Once I’ve reviewed the applications, a new head priest shall be selected…along with a new mission. My daughter has argued, and I have agreed, that there are other services this monastery might offer which would better serve the interests of the common folk. Anyone who wishes to remain here and aid that new mission is welcome to do so. For those of you with family or loved ones to whom you would return, I grant you leave to go. Any ‘transgressions’ from your past shall be considered redeemed…however, I will remind you that my influence extends only so far. The laws of this kingdom will still be enforced wherever you travel in the Heartland; you’re all well aware that the indulgent attitudes of the Jaharri will not be tolerated out there.”
Richard was silent for a long moment, and it seemed that whatever else he had to say came to him with tremendous difficulty. When he spoke again, his voice sounded slightly hoarse with emotion.
“Finally, I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to you all…for the friendship you’ve shown my daughter during her time here. When I first sent Dae to this place, it was…well, it was a decision born of desperation…frustration that the daughter I thought I knew so well had come back to me so changed. My hope was that Father Douglas would be able to do what I could not: help her move on from her experiences among the Jaharri. That by being among you, she would learn how mistaken she was to cling to such misguided ideals.” His lips twitched beneath his beard, and Lyric was shocked by how much emotion his face carried. Many of the other women were exchanging slightly awkward glances, no less surprised than she was. It was almost unheard of for any person born to nobility to reveal their personal feelings like this to commoners. “I didn’t realize that she would learn something far more valuable—that she was not alone. For that, I thank you all.”
Another murmur whispered through the gathered women, but Richard cleared his throat gruffly, recovering his composure. “Anyway…I believe I’ve kept you all from your duties long enough. Thank you again for your attendance.”
Realizing the meeting had concluded, the other young women rose from the pews and began making their way back out through the great oak doorway, whispering excitedly among themselves. They looked considerably more at ease than when they’d entered. Lyric was about to join the others when Richard’s gaze caught her, and he held up a hand to indicate she should remain. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, wondering what he could possibly want with her but suspecting it could only be bad news.
When the hall had emptied, Richard nodded to his guard and the two men exited, pulling the great doors closed behind them. Lyric was left alone with Lord Everdeen in the solemn silence.
“Is there word from my uncle?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from breaking.
“Alas, I fear so…though that isn’t the whole of what I wanted to discuss with you.” Richard studied her a long moment, his expression curiously paternal. “A missive arrived this morning summoning you back to Blackwood Manor. Your uncle seems satisfied that your time sequestered here has purged whatever sins once poisoned your mind, and given recent events it’s understandable that he would be more comfortable keeping his family closer to home. In his letter he made sure to mention your intended betrothal to Rogar of Haverbrook…a man well known to hold favor with Prince Elkin and his circle. It’s a fine match, perhaps. A life at court in the capital could suit you well. However, after consultation with my daughter, I’ve come to understand this future may not be as appealing to you as your uncle seems to think.”
Lyric glanced away, uncomfortable with the subject. “Appealing or not, Lord Everdeen, I shall do my duty to my family.”
“An honorable sentiment. Admirable. Even so, I am not ignorant of the debt I myself owe you, and feel compelled to offer whatever aid I can.”
“Debt, you Lordship?” This time Lyric met his gaze coolly, keeping her mask in place. “You owe me nothing.”
The small smile Richard allowed himself was almost lost in his beard, but his eyes were kindly and amused. “Hmm…as you say. Regardless, my daughter speaks of you quite fondly and, if I may speak candidly, I know it would mean a great deal to her if I were to offer my aid. Dae and her, uh…well, the Scion, shall be lunching with my wife and I this noon. Sharing a meal together seemed a good way to further our reconciliation, I thought…and I was rather hoping you might join us.”
The invitation came as a surprise to Lyric, and she instinctively sought to rebuff it. “I…I thank you, Lord Everdeen, but—”
“Please.” Richard took a step closer to her, an imploring expression creeping onto his face. “It’s important to both Simone and I that this first step goes well, and I confess to being a touch nervous it won’t. Your presence would provide a welcome…shall we call it a buffer, for lack of a more dignified term. It would also give us a chance to discuss any possible…alternatives…to the fate your uncle has planned for you.”
It would have been ungracious to refuse his offer, so Lyric reluctantly agreed. Everdeen’s gratitude was effusive.
Lyric didn’t have to guess to know what Richard was hinting at. She’d spent a good deal of the last four days cloistered away in her private bedchamber, struggling to keep her growing sense of anxiety from overwhelming her. In the quiet solitude she’d pondered Dae’s offer to return with her and Kaylee to the desert city, turning it over in her mind, gnawing at it with some perverse hope that a rational argument might tear it asunder. Yet for all her effort, the offer retained its tempting promise: a promise of freedom…of escape.
Yet escape to what? Some paradise of passion, as Dae had described, where she might indulge her wildest desires without shame or fear of discovery? What might such a future even look like? While the prospect of marrying Rogar of Haverbrook held no appeal at all—indeed, she grew nauseated any time she allowed herself to dwell on the matter—could a life of servitude in the desert harem be any better?
Servitude? What would that even mean? she asked herself now, walking with her escort through the halls of Everdeen’s manor. Dae promised I need submit to no-one unless I wish it. Kaylee would be with her in the harem, along with Inaya and many others. Lyric recalled the portraits she’d seen of the other pleasure servants…of the young woman standing bound while her companion claimed her in the manner of a man…
Gods, just the thought of it was enough to rouse the beast within her!
Entering the formal dining room, Lyric was greeted by a curious sight. Richard and his wife were seated together on one side of a long, gorgeously carved mahogany table, Dae and the Scion opposite them. Reconciled or not, there was enough tension in the room to be uncomfortable. Several Jaharri warriors stood with Lord Everdeen’s own soldiers around the perimeter of the room, still as statues. Seeing her, the two couples stood and moved to greet her.
Coming to stand before the group, Lyric found herself frozen for a long moment, too stunned by the power of the Scion’s electrifying gaze to will her limbs into movement or her tongue to speech. This was the first time she’d seen Zafirah up close, and it was difficult not to recall the image of her as she had last seen her, naked in the moonlight while she pleasured herself under Dae’s direction.
Seeing her dumbstruck, Dae smoothly made introductions. “My aziza, may I present Lyric of Blackwood. Is she not every bit as radiant as I promised?”
“Just so.” The Scion’s gaze slipped down her figure like a wandering caress, then returned to her face. “A pleasure to meet you, Lyric. I cannot recall ever encountering such a moon-kissed jewel before.”
Eventually Lyric recalled her noble upbringing and, not certain of the proper etiquette, performed a graceful curtsy. “It’s an honor to meet you as well, Scion.”
“Thank you for joining us, lady Blackwood,” Richard welcomed her as they joined him at the table, gesturing for her to take the seat opposite Dae. “Come, sit. You’re just in time; lunch is prepared.”
Taking her seat, Lyric had a moment to compose herself while she unfolded a serviette and arranged it on her lap. Everdeen’s household steward rang a silver bell, and servants appeared bearing platters of fruit and roasted vegetables, steaming slices of beef and pheasant, and a tureen of steaming hot soup. The feast provided a welcome distraction from the strained atmosphere in the room.
After their plates were filled, Richard and Zafirah filled the awkward silence with polite but mundane conversation—something about the speed and reliance of camel trains—but Lyric was too entranced by the Scion’s voice to take much of it in. Her throaty tone, her accent…the way it lingered over every ‘r’ sound and turned it into a low purr. Gods, the sound seemed to vibrate right through her skin to quicken her heartbeat! Lyric was startled to realize she’d grown wet and fought a blush, trying to mask a sudden rush of arousal by focusing on her meal. When she glanced up, she found Dae gazing at her steadily, wearing that familiar, knowing grin.
The Scion seemed to notice the interaction; those intense sapphire eyes shifted their focus from Everdeen to her. “I understand, lady Blackwood, that my Consort has already extended an invitation to you to return with us to El’Kasari. She explained some of your situation to me…this ‘arranged marriage’ your family have orchestrated. Having met your uncle—albeit briefly—I can understand very well why you would wish to be free of his scheming. I promise you, in the Jaharri we do not look favorably on such manipulations, nor do we force our loved ones into relationships against their will. Have you had time to give proper consideration to her proposal?”
Lyric set her cutlery aside, wondering how to address the question. “I’m not exactly certain what Dae has told you, Scion, but…my situation is more complicated than she might appreciate. As generous as her offer is, and as grateful as I am to her for making it, I-I don’t think it would be possible for me to accept.”
“Your trepidation is understandable,” Zafirah said compassionately. “It is no small thing to leave behind a familiar land for one so different and strange…especially given the many misconceptions held by your people about Jaharri customs.” Richard and Simone exchanged an awkward look, but the Scion pressed on. “Before you reject my Consort’s invitation, allow me to make it clear that I hold no claim over you, nor are you beholden to any in the realm of my people; as such, you would be free to leave at any time should you find your new accommodations or activities displeasing. There are many who sail the trade routes between El’Kasari and the cities of the east and west. Should you ever wish to leave, either to return to your homeland and family, or perhaps journey further afield to seek your fortune in the Tasurik Empire or someplace else, I promise you shall be free to do so.”
“M-my betrothal is already arranged,” Lyric stammered. “Even if I wanted to join you, how would I even…”
“Lord Everdeen’s vizier has already devised an elegant solution to this quandary. He has taken the liberty of drafting two letters, one for King Gerald and another to your uncle, declaring your intention to journey with Dae back to El’Kasari. They explain that you shall be taking on a diplomatic role, to foster good relations between our people. No person born of this kingdom has ever before held the title of Consort; my joining with Dae presents an opportunity to strengthen the alliance that has long existed between our nations.”
“You’re far more familiar with the inner court of the King than I am,” Dae added. “I can’t think of anyone better suited to such a role than you.”
Richard nodded his agreement. “Gerald knows how much the merchant guilds would value having a representative from a noble House placed so highly in the Scion’s confidence. Just your name, your lineage, would be sufficient to set many of the more traditional-minded traders at ease.”
“My uncle—”
“Is in no position to press the issue,” Richard interjected. “His plan to foment conflict between the Scion and myself danced perilously close to treason. I owe you at least something for bringing his treachery to my attention—” Lyric opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed on. “—and both my wife and I would take comfort from knowing that a fellow Heartlander from a noble family would be by our daughter’s side.” Lady Simone nodded her ready agreement.
Lyric felt that instinctive, stubborn need to reject this offer tighten her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Everdeen only hopes to further humiliate my uncle by sending me off to languish in the desert wastes, whispered a small, cynical voice in her mind. This is just another ploy to keep House Blackwood from gaining the King’s favor…from ascending any higher in the Royal Court. Privately she acknowledged she was afraid—but was it a fear that life in the desert city would not live up to the pretty picture painted by Dae…or fear that it would be all she had promised and more? Who would she be, who might she become, in a land ruled by fire and unleashed passion?
Then she glanced up and found Dae regarding her with an earnest, sympathetic expression. Those damned emerald eyes of hers pierced right through her mask of cordial dismissal.
“This is your chance, Lyric,” she said softly, reaching across the table and laying her fingers gently over her trembling hand. “A chance to start a new life for yourself, far away from your family and their petty schemes. Come with us. Let me show you that the world is far wider than the borders of this kingdom…that there are lands out there where you won’t have to hide who you are for the sake of others’ prejudice.”
She had come to it—the fork in the road. The choice she must make, beyond which her future lay in shrouded mystery. Lyric had seen the diverging paths coming since her encounter with Kaylee and Dae. She remembered Selestene as she had looked in the throes of submissive ecstasy; the way her eyes seemed to almost glow with manic delight as she climaxed under the lash, her lithe body wriggling in rapture while she laughed and cried and came. She remembered the shame and humiliation she’d felt after her secret life had been discovered; how her uncle had screamed himself hoarse berating her while she stood in stoic silence, hands clasped behind her back to hide their trembling, dying inside as her privileged life imploded.
Dae was still watching her, still reading her. Lyric could practically feel the girl inside her mind, and her next words seemed to address her inner thoughts with unnerving insight.
“Not for me, not for your uncle…choose the path you want, Lyric. You’re the one who has to walk it.”
She tried to look into the future, imagining where either path might take her. While the one leading into the desert was hazy and uncertain, the alternative was far clearer. She had no trouble at all picturing her wedding to Rogar; standing before the altar of Tarsis while the priest droned on about the sanctity of their union. Her uncle would be by her side, standing in the place reserved for a father she had never known, looking smug and proud as he traded her off like a prized brood mare. Afterwards there would be the consummation; Rogar’s rough hands upon her, his muscular, hairy body pressing her into the mattress of their marital bed as she turned her face to the side and tried desperately to vacate her senses…
The moment she envisioned her wedding night Lyric’s throat constricted, her stomach dropped, and a wave of nausea swept over her. She was still mentally bracing herself when she heard the words being spoken in her own voice.
“Very well. I accept your offer.”
She froze, uncertain whether it had really happened. But the enormous grin spreading over Dae’s face confirmed she’d actually said the words aloud. Lyric felt a moment of pure panic seize her, making the edges of her vision turn white and her lungs burn as though starved of oxygen. Could it really be that simple? After so many weeks tearing herself apart over her future, all the angst and frustration and uncertainty…could it really be that easy to slip the noose of her engagement?
“Excellent.” Richard’s voice sounded muffled and distant over the ringing in her ears. “I shall have Edmund finalize the paperwork and send a copy for your signature. We can send your missive to the King along with Dae’s; I’ve no doubt he’ll be glad to learn that we have reached a diplomatic end to our conflict.”
The rest of the meal seemed to pass in a blur; Lyric managed to exchange a few brief words of conversation with the Scion and Lord Everdeen, but afterwards she couldn’t recall anything she’d said. Dae gave her a long hug before she left—not at all an appropriate gesture for two noble-born ladies to share—which she awkwardly returned. “You won’t regret your decision,” she whispered to her. “I promise.”
As she and her escort climbed back up the hill to the reformatory, the heavy weight that had hung over her like a dark cloud seemed to grow lighter, and the realization of what she’d just done began to sink in. The choice had been made. The path before her might be murky and difficult to walk, but she had chosen it. The first step had been taken.
She pictured her uncle’s reaction when he received the notice that she would not be returning to Blackwood Manor; how his face would redden and he would stomp about like a child throwing a tantrum, how the servants would scatter in the wake of his impotent outrage. Just for fun she imagined her cousin Jonathon being forced to endure his father’s sputtering curses and ranting. Already it seemed a distant thing to her; his fury couldn’t touch her now. With both Lord Everdeen and the Scion backing her up, she felt insulated and protected in a way she’d never felt before in her life. Soon there would be hundreds of miles between herself and her family, and she would be far beyond the reach of their pious judgement.
By the time she made it back to her private chamber and lay down on the bed, Lyric realized she was smiling. Not a small smile, either, but one so huge and genuine it hurt the muscles in her face to form it. The tension she’d felt before—the tension that had been her companion for so long now that she’d come to accept it as simply a part of her essential self—was gone. She felt lighter—relaxed, accepting, and ready to move on.
She was free.