A Lotus for the Regent Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2012 Adonis Devereux

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-133-6

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Marie Medina

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To JMJ

  A LOTUS FOR THE REGENT

  The Lotus Trilogy, 2

  Adonis Devereux

  Copyright © 2012

  Prologue

  Kaelmoro's gaze followed the raindrops racing down the window. The water droplets ran in starts and stops, some following older tracks, others making new paths only to merge with faster rivulets. One by one they dropped until they fell beyond the sill and out of sight. The stuffy, cinnamon-filled air of his bedchamber clung to his skin. He rose from where he sat before the window, crawled up into the large, flat seat of the bay window, and threw open the glass. A gust of stormy night winds rustled his long, golden hair, tangling it up in the nubs that grew out from his skull, just above his hairline. Kaelmoro reached up and ran his fingers like a comb through his tresses, extricating his hair from his Ausir horns. His fingers continued their descent until they brushed along the pointed tips of his ears. And he sighed.

  Pink cherry blossoms scattered by the storm blew in the open portal. Rain-soaked, they adhered to his cheeks and forearms. Kaelmoro picked at and discarded them out the window, watching them flutter away into the darkness of the garden below. The rain, the cherry blossoms, the night storm—anything to keep his mind off what he knew was coming. Silent lightning lit the world for an instant and plunged everything back into darkness. For a moment, the dancing trees looked like white clouds anchored to the earth. Kaelmoro counted until the thunder rolled over the guild grounds and rumbled off across the sea. How many more moments would it be before he heard his name called?

  Tomorrow the blossoms would all be gone. This storm would strip the branches bare.

  Kaelmoro drew his knees up to his chest and began to hum. Rain blew in and stung his face, but he did not shy away. He stared off into the night, for the darkness could hide nothing from his Ausir eyes. The trees bent and swayed with the rising ferocity of the storm, and in the midst of the tempest, far off, Kaelmoro heard the wild music of the sea clashing with the squall. Kaelmoro began to hum, bringing melody to the cacophony, singing alongside the fierce dissonance of nature.

  The rain is dead rain

  Naught will grow from it

  I drink and I drink but

  I thirst like bowed maples

  Rain drops on my head and

  Hangs glistening falsely

  From my eyelashes like some

  Proud beacon of the glorious

  Otherworld—

  “Kaelmoro!” The Guildmaster's voice shattered the sad beauty of Kaelmoro's extemporaneous song.

  The boy popped to his feet, a motion of habit when he heard his master's voice. He slipped his bare toes into his warm slippers and ran down the hall. When he reached the stairs, he skipped two at a time, finding his way into the Guildmaster's chambers in moments. Kaelmoro's heart raced.

  “Here I am,” the boy said between deep breaths.

  The Guildmaster, clad in a black, silk housecoat, gestured to the divan. “Lie down, Kaelmoro.” In his hand he held a small handsaw.

  Kaelmoro lay down, but his little heart thudded even more strongly in his chest. How could he tell his master that he did not want his horns sawed off again? How could he express his shame? Though the boy felt it, he did not know how to put it into words. The rain. The rain sang his anguish better than he ever could.

  The Guildmaster pulled up a stool and sat at Kaelmoro's head. “Relax, boy. We've done this before. It'll be over soon enough.”

  Tears rolled out of the corners of Kaelmoro's eyes and into his hair.

  “Remember, you live among the Lotuses and will one day grow into a mighty tree, granting them all shade and protection. You will be the center of this garden's beauty, and all will look to you when I am gone. But for now, no one must know what you are.”

  The Guildmaster gave this speech every time he sawed off Kaelmoro's horns, but confusion held the boy in silence. His instincts told him there was something terribly wrong with this. Why would the Guildmaster cut his horns off if he was supposed to be beautiful? Kaelmoro knew he was the only Ausir in the compound. Were the horns that ugly? Was it so important that he look like everyone else? What did it matter? The Guildmaster kept him a secret anyway, never letting him leave the house. No, there must have been something wrong with Kaelmoro, because if the horns were beautiful and good, the Guildmaster would not cut them off.

  Kaelmoro was still a child, but he had enough natural aesthetic taste to tell him that his horns were beautiful, that they enhanced his Ausir facial symmetry. Since he could walk and talk, Kaelmoro had been trained every day in art, music, and poetry. He had the finest tutors. The Guildmaster spared no expense. Kaelmoro had heard these things over and over again.

  The Guildmaster pulled a leather strap through a steel ring mounted on the side of the divan. He stretched it across Kaelmoro's forehead, and as he secured and tied it off on the other side, Kaelmoro felt the strap tighten far enough to hold his head in place. Though there was no pain, the pressure of the back and forth sawing only deepened Kaelmoro's sorrow. He wept silently as the Guildmaster, grim-faced, removed the horns. The sawing stopped, and Kaelmoro heard the thud of the horn-nub as it hit the floor.

  Kaelmoro hummed the song of the rain he had just composed in his mind, but it brought him no relief. The Guildmaster started in on the second horn. All the boy could think about was how this whole process would be repeated a half a year from now. The second horn hit the floor, and the Guildmaster released Kaelmoro.

  The boy jumped from the divan and started to run from the room, but his master stopped him. “Stay, Kaelmoro.”

  The child obeyed, but he turned around with an ill grace. “I just want to be alone.”

  The Guildmaster nodded and took a seat in his ornately-carved armchair near the fireplace. “I know you do, and that's precisely why you must stay.” The back of the chair rose like bird wings above his head. “Come over here.”

  Kaelmoro obeyed.

  “Sing me a cheerful song.”

  The boy balked at the order. “But, Master. I don't feel like singing a cheerful song.”

  The Guildmaster leaned forward and took the boy's hands in his. “Exactly. And that is why you must. You will one day rule this guild, and you need to know how to make others happy, even when you're not. You must be able to portray an emotion you don't feel."

  Rage blinded Kaelmoro with tears. His little fists clenched into balls. He had never run from his master before, but he was sorely tempted to do so now.

  “Kaelmoro,” the Guildmaster said, his voice a stern edge, “take up that dulcimer and sit down.”

  The boy grit his teeth, took the instrument, and positioned it on his lap. “What song?” His voice dripped venom.

  The Guildmaster smiled indulgently. “You are the master now. This is your party. You must choose the song, but make it a cheerful one. Your customers are in no mood for melancholy caterwauling.”

  Kaelmoro's childlike pride pricked at the insinuation, but he swallowed h
is anger, dried his eyes, and put on his best false smile. The Guildmaster nestled back into his armchair and waited.

  Kaelmoro's rapid strumming evoked the high, clear, clean voice of the instrument, and as the fingers of his left hand ran up and down the neck, tapping at frets as quickly as the raindrops pattered on the windows, the boy lifted up his high voice in song.

  If ever the scop on his lyre did play

  In warm mead-halls tunes of love

  If ever the angels of song bonded

  The blood of men in harmony

  And made pleasant a savage kind

  And if ever did the stars warm the night

  These also do I hear and feel

  As the west wind blows in leaves

  Crisp red and brown on the fading sun—

  “Stop.” The Guildmaster stood up and shook his head. “I said cheerful.”

  Kaelmoro laid his hands across the dulcimer, silencing its last, fading note. “I'm sorry, master.”

  The Guildmaster opened his mouth to say something more, but the arrival of another servant—an adult—interrupted him. “What is it?”

  "A Sunjaa ship approaches, master," the slave said.

  “From Arinport? In this weather?”

  The slave only bowed in response.

  The Guildmaster turned to Kaelmoro. “You're only six, boy. You will learn in time, and you will surpass even my own skills some day. For now, run along. Return to your Sunjaa scrolls. After the Zenji tongue, that one is the most important.”

  Kaelmoro nodded. He was only too happy to leave, to be alone with nothing but the storm sighing to him. He tossed aside the dulcimer and scrambled from the room.

  The Guildmaster's voice called after him. “We start history next week.”

  Chapter One

  Ajalira closed her eyes. She missed the sound of the rain. It had rained all morning, and the storm, though it had torn all the blossoms from the trees in the garden, had granted her a sense of cleansing. She had listened to the rain all throughout her lesson on Sunjaa and Zenji politics, along with the economic statuses of both nations. She did not remember much from the lesson—only that the Sunjaa nation was the richest and most powerful nation in the west, and that she had already known. Ever since the Ausir civil war had begun six years ago, the Sunjaa supremacy had been unchallenged and unchallengeable.

  “Lotus?”

  Ajalira bit her lip to keep from flinching at the sound. “Yes.”

  “Come here.”

  Ajalira opened her eyes and rose from the low divan where she had been sitting. She went to stand before Evix, her trainer.

  “It's time, Lotus.”

  “Yes.” Ajalira dreaded this lesson above all the others. She was a Lotus now, and she was not her own. “Do as you will with me, Evix.”

  No Lotus could be touched without her express consent, not even by her trainer, but Ajalira knew that in her case, it was a mere formality, utterly without meaning. To refuse one's trainer meant only that a different trainer would be assigned, and Ajalira was not permitted any trainer apart from Evix. The Guildmaster did not want anyone else to know of her horns.

  “It warms my heart to see you,” said Evix, drawing her close. “You know how I treasure our time together.”

  Ajalira nodded, but she said nothing. She believed Evix when he spoke of caring for her. Affection was in all his looks. His eyes lit up as she looked at him, and she forced back the bile in her throat. It was by her own will that she was here. Her honor was bound to this. Ajalira forced herself to relax into Evix's arms.

  “Lovely,” said Evix. He slid his hand up from her waist, along the curve of her throat, and up to her golden hair. “So very lovely.” He unbound her hair, worn long in accordance with the Lotus regulations, and he pushed it down around the base of her horns.

  Ajalira knew that she was fortunate that her horns both curved back along her skull and were also naturally golden. Otherwise, she had no doubt, the Guildmaster would have had her horns sawn off.

  “Kiss me, darling.” Evix bent his head to hers, and Ajalira obliged with the open-mouthed kiss he desired. Evix twined the fingers of one hand in her hair, but his other hand roved down to her breast.

  Shame burned in Ajalira's cheeks, and she mocked herself in her thoughts. How could she, six years among the Lotuses, still know shame? Six years of slavery. Six years of whoring.

  “Still shy of me, love?” Evix pulled away from her and shook his head. “After all this while?”

  Ajalira shook her head, having no words that would not cut him. Evix had been her only trainer, and she knew that she must be a disappointment to him. She had never achieved anything beyond the first petal in coupling. The Red Lotus tattoo on her forearm showed her lack of progress, but Evix never seemed put out with her.

  “Come, pet.” Evix pulled her to the divan, and Ajalira went. There was no point in struggling. She had willingly come to this life, and she had no right to complain of her treatment. She was just the same as any other Lotus.

  “I have been thinking about you ever since our last session.” Evix kissed her lips. “I want so much to show you how much pleasure you are capable of.”

  “Thank you.” Ajalira forced out the words. She despised herself, but Evix was not to blame. He was property of the guild the same as she, and he had been here longer.

  “Now, lie back.” Evix released his hold on her hips, and Ajalira obeyed him, lying back on the divan. She kept her arms loose at her sides, her legs still closed.

  “Good, pet.” Evix bent his head toward hers once more, dropping a kiss on her brow. Then, swift as a sparrow, his hands darted between their faces, and black silk descended over Ajalira's eyes. She could see nothing, and a shiver went up her spine. She heard Evix chuckling, and then she felt his lips on her throat. The sudden baring of her breasts by the jerking of her pallav came as a shock, and Ajalira bit her lip. She had almost enjoyed that. Almost.

  Evix's mouth was off her throat, and she had no idea where he was or what he was doing. When a soft caress passed down her left flank, Ajalira fidgeted. Then came pressure on her right breast. She felt a slight nip of pain, and then the chill of metal. Some sort of metal clamp was closed over her nipple, and the sting was pleasant. She wanted one on the other nipple, too, and she felt a fresh wave of shame threaten to drown her. How could she enjoy her own prostitution? It did not matter that neither Evix nor anyone else in the whole guildhouse saw a Lotus as prostitute. Ajalira did.

  “You're doing beautifully.” Evix's whisper was warm against her ear, and then he rose. She could tell by the sound. She heard him move toward the foot of the divan, and then she felt his strong, slim hand on her thigh. He slid down her flesh, caressing her leg as he moved toward her ankle, opening her as he did so. When he reached the ankle, she felt a soft constriction around her skin, and then the heavy weight of silk. It took her a moment to realize that her leg was bound to the underside of the divan. Just as understanding dawned, she felt the same weight of silk on her other ankle. Evix had her bound and spread, and she knew that her bare cunt would be open to his eyes.

  “So sweet.” Evix murmured his pleasure, and then her poor, neglected nipple received its clamp. Evix trailed his fingers down toward her navel, but as soon as her hands moved, he was gone. She could not see him, and the mystery heightened her anticipation. Then she felt his hands close, vise-like, over her wrists, and he pulled her arms up over her head. Soft, strong silk looped around her wrists, and then he must have secured her bonds to something. She could not see, so she had no idea what it might be.

  And she was at his mercy, completely open, vulnerable, his for the taking.

  “I thought so.” Evix's familiar hands were at her nether lips, and they slipped inside her without resistance.

  Ajalira bit her lip to keep from crying out. It was the first time that Evix had not had to oil his fingers before penetrating her with them. She had not heard him open any jars; she could not smell the rose-scented oil he f
avored. No, all she could smell was … what?

  Arousal. Her own arousal.

  “Such a good little pet.” Evix's fingers thrust into her, and she heard the pride in his voice. “You like being bound. I should have guessed it before now.” And then his fingers were gone, replaced by his tongue. Ajalira felt him lapping at her cunt, sucking on her clitoris, and a tear slipped down her cheek. How could she enjoy this? Enjoy being touched by a man who had no rights to her?

  Then a sudden sting in her clit brought her back to the present. Evix's teeth had clamped down on her little pink hood, and she felt herself grow wetter.

  “Yes, my pet likes a touch of pain in her pleasure.”

  Then the familiar scent of rose-oil filled the air. Ajalira knew what came next.

  “At least I don't have to remind you to keep your legs open.” Evix laughed, and a slap landed on her thigh. “They're tied open. You are mine to do with as I like.”

  She felt the head of his phallus pushing against her nymphae, and then Evix penetrated her. His cock was inside her again.

  Ajalira relaxed into Evix's motions. There was relief in knowing that there was nothing required of her, that she did not have to work to please him. She was bound, tied into a position that would enable him to take from her all the pleasure he would.

  For the first time in her life, Ajalira understood that sex could be pleasurable. She understood why the other Lotuses seemed to enjoy this part of their training as much as any other.

  But she had no pleasure of her own. The dampness of her pussy dried, but the oil kept both her and Evix uninjured. She tried to remember to clench her sheath around Evix's cock. She knew that that was something she was supposed to do, but she gained no enjoyment herself from it. Still, for the first time, she realized that, were she not so ashamed this would be pleasure itself.