The Harem Master Page 2

  "That's very considerate of you," Demir murmured. Bulut had never been considerate a day in his life. What was his true motive?

  Curling his fingers under Demir's chin, Bulut turned his face, tilted it up. "If the harem goes, there will be no use for a Harem Master. I would hate to see you cast out with nowhere to go. You belong here in the palace."

  Nowhere to go? His parents lived a week away in a beautiful house along the coast. Demir had friends in the city who would take him in until he made more permanent arrangements. No longer being Harem Master would leave him devastated and without a job, but not homeless. Had Bulut completely lost his mind? "I belong in the Jeweled Garden," Demir replied. "If there is no harem, there is no Harem Master. I will go wherever the fates bid me."

  "You should remain here. I could see to it you do. The king has granted me the right of concubine."

  Demir would rather slit his own throat. "You are gracious, Steward, but I could not fail in my duties and then turn and seek safety in the role I failed to uphold for others. I would not dishonor my king, my family, and my charges so."

  Bulut's fingers tightened painfully. "I strongly suggest you give the matter further consideration. There is no rush to reply. The meeting will not take place for nearly two weeks."

  "Yes, Steward," Demir replied and grunted softly when Bulut roughly released him.

  He barely held back a shudder when Bulut's hand dropped to run down his chest, fingers flicking the jeweled gold hoops on each of his nipples, tugging at the slightly larger one in his belly. Thankfully, he withdrew without touching further and stood up in a rush of gaudy silk and sticky, opulent perfume. "We'll speak again before the meeting."

  Demir swallowed the bile in his throat and dipped into a low bow. "Yes, Steward. Good day to you."

  Bulut smiled at him, then turned and strode off. Demir pressed the back of his hand to his mouth until the desire to scream or throw up had passed. Abandoning the bench, he went and knelt by the fish pond, dipping his fingers in the water, smiling faintly when the fish immediately rushed over to investigate. They slowly drifted away again when they realized he was not food. Demir left his hand in the cool water and looked up at the bright, clear, afternoon sky.

  As though he did not have enough problems, now he needed to find a way to convince the council not to do away with the harems. Not that the king would agree, but the council had ways around that. He only wished they could depose the king. If only there was a suitable heir.

  But there wasn't, and there never would be. It was only a matter of time before tensions exploded into civil war and the first and only royal bloodline of Tavamara was removed from the throne and a new line instated. Even then, the new rulers would throw out or kill anyone who had served the old rulers. It was going to be the Years of Blood all over again.

  All he'd ever wanted… Well, all he'd ever wanted that he could have, was to be a good Harem Master. It was one of the few roles passed through the bloodline. Even the Stewards were handpicked by the kings and could come from anywhere. But Demir's family had always been Harem Masters, from the very first man chosen for the job when the harems were first created. Six men and five women had served as Harem Masters, all of them from his family.

  And Bulut thought that he would throw away his lineage, his pride, to become the concubine of a man as despicable as the king they both served. At least Demir served faithfully. Bulut was a spider hiding in the sand, waiting to strike. If he thought Demir was wounded, easy prey…

  Well, he would learn his mistake the hard way.

  Standing, Demir returned to the harem hall. A servant stood there speaking with the guards. "Lord Demir, there you are." He nodded in parting to the guard then hastened over to Demir. "His Majesty requests three concubines for lunch, in now half an hour's time." He handed over a rolled-up slip of paper.

  Demir opened it, read over Kagan's demands. "I will fetch suitable concubines." Returning to his office, he retrieved the master list and looked it over, then carried it with him to the living quarters of the concubines. He knocked on three doors and told each young man, "Dress to attend the king for lunch while he dines with the ambassadors from Rittu, Hadge, and Gollen." One man grimaced; the other two rolled their eyes. Demir could not blame them. The king loved to flaunt his concubines at such lunches, most often with behavior best confined to the bedroom. The three concubines Demir had selected were as comfortable with such displays as anyone could be and always handled themselves well.

  Others were much more discomfited. Not a single one of them had been trained for such a life, as the younger sons and daughters of nobles and wealthy persons often were. Too many made mistakes that got them killed.

  When they were ready, the men met him in the hall. "Ricep, Mesut, Gursel… be careful." He kissed each one on the cheek for luck and sent them off with a quietly murmured prayer. He wanted no more dead bodies brought to him.

  After they had gone, the hall grew quiet. Too quiet. He would never grow accustomed to silence in a place that should always be as vibrant with noise as it was with color. Looking to the nearest guard, he asked, "Would you summon a servant, have them bring me wine. Something bright and refreshing, along with a light repast."

  "Yes, my lord," the guard replied.

  "Thank you." Demir vanished into his office and settled into the tiresome chore of paperwork, going over supply lists, future events to prepare for, training and practice that needed to be scheduled, guests who would be coming and going over the next few months… on and on it went.

  Demir should have had an assistant, but he had given up the practice after one had run away and the other had been caught fucking one of the concubines. The first rule of being Harem Master was that he was to care for, but never amorously touch, the concubines except for purposes of instruction. Second rule was to be seen but never touched. His assistants must abide by the same rules. But they had all proven unfaithful. Better to work alone than with someone he could not trust.

  If the palace—the kingdom—was being run the way it should, he would have been within his rights to take a knife to Bulut. As things stood, he would be one more head put to the block. Worse, he might be given to Bulut.

  He looked up, smiling as a servant set a tray with wine, fruit, cheese, and bread on the corner of his desk. "Thank you."

  "My pleasure, Harem Master. Do you need anything further?"

  "No." He smiled as the servant bowed before departing and pulled the tray closer, setting aside paperwork in favor of food and drink for a few minutes. The wine was exactly what he'd asked for, one of his favorites in fact: Afternoon Sea, a vibrant blue-green, salty and sweet, perfect against the cheeses and fruit that had been brought.

  His afternoon and evening continued on with modest interruption, which was fortunate because the night was going to be agonizing enough. As the sun vanished, he abandoned his office and retreated to his private quarters.

  Once there he quickly stripped off his clothes and jewels and scrubbed off, casting his bath a forlorn look because there was no time for a relaxing soak. His clothes for the evening had been spread out on the bed, and a servant stood waiting to assist him. After thoroughly drying Demir off, the servant rubbed a shimmering oil into his skin, making it gleam in the candlelight.

  Once the oil was set, Demir pulled on lightweight black pants, loose in the legs, tight at the hips and ankles. Over the pants went a heavier black skirt, open clear to his hips on each side. They left bare the cluster of flowers tattooed on his stomach, teasing at where they vanished below the waistband of his skirt and pants. None but he, the servants who attended him, and the man who'd inked them knew the flowers wrapped around his legs all the way to his ankles. His feet were inked with little fish, frogs, and birds, and as he was head of the harem, he did not wear shoes save when he went outside.

  The servant rebraided his dark, thick hair, threading it with jeweled beads and affixing pins that glittered with still more jewels. Two gold hoops decorated each ear,
the slightly smaller attached by delicate chain to a gold orchid cuff high on the top of his ears.

  Around his waist went the heavy chain that held the keys to the harem; another chain, decorated with rubies, went round his throat. A last chain was affixed to his nipple rings, though he shook his head at the one that would have attached it to his belly ring.

  When the jewelry was attended, the servant finished off by decorating Demir's eyes, lining them in black that swirled out from the corners of his eyes, echoing the swirling designs of his tattoos.

  He looked himself over in the large mirror affixed to one wall, nodding his satisfaction. The king might dishonor the harem that served him, but Demir would die before he dishonored the harem he served. "Thank you," he said and dismissed the servant with a nod.

  Ready as he would ever be for another long, complicated, danger-laced banquet, he left his room and traveled quickly through the halls to the semi-public areas where the main banquet hall was located. He slipped around to the preparation rooms and saw all of the concubines performing that night gathered. "Was His Majesty satisfied with the concubines given to him for dining tonight?"

  "Yes, Lord Demir," one of the concubines replied. "We still are not certain, however, what entertainments he desires."

  "We'll keep to the revised schedule, and should there be any changes necessary I will notify you." The two nearest reached up and kissed his cheeks for luck, and Demir cast a prayer over all of them before slipping back into the hall and heading for the main entrance.

  The Master of Banquets bowed to him, then stepped inside and announced, "Harem Master Demir."

  Demir stepped into the room and sank to his knees, then bowed so his forehead touched the floor. "Your Majesty, good evening to you and your most honored guests on this most blessed evening heralding the coming of winter." The king gestured and Demir dutifully rose. He could feel Bulut's eyes on him like the oil rubbed into his skin, but did not glance that way, just kept his eyes firmly on King Kagan. "For your pleasure, and that of your honored guests, I have arranged the finest entertainments. A duel to start, to heat the blood and whet the appetite."

  "That will do nicely, Lord Demir."

  "Your Majesty." Demir bowed and gestured to the servant at the door, who signaled the concubines to enter.

  On the dais overlooking the rest of the room, the king beckoned Demir to join them. He took his seat on the left side of the table, all the way at the corner, furthest from the king and directly across from Fatih, the Captain of the Guard. Demir glanced at him, receiving the barest nod as Fatih lifted a wine dish to his lips, and some of the tension bled from Demir's shoulders.

  He would be going to bed late, but it was worth it for the task he must perform. The king might be breaking them all, but he had not yet completely destroyed them.

  Looking over the wines scattered about the table, he chose a pale one that seemed to shift between pink and lavender in color. Morning Kiss it was called, a light, easy wine well-suited to the start of a long meal. He chatted quietly with Captain Fatih and some of the others at the table. The foreigners largely ignored him, as confounded as ever as to how they should behave around a man who, in their minds, looked like a whore but ranked as high as Fatih and the Masters of the Household.

  Why, he did not know. Each of those persons looked like their roles. The captain resembled his soldiers, the masters resembled the servants in their charge. Each was a stronger, more powerful version of the people under their care. Why wouldn't Demir look like the concubines he watched over? To not resemble them indicated shame in what they did, what they were. Foreigners were so baffling.

  The dueling concluded, and he silently motioned for the first of several singers to enter, keeping everyone quietly entertained while the first course was brought and enjoyed, a pleasant background to chatter and laughter and the noise of clinking dishware and calls for more wine.

  As the first course was taken away and fresh wines were set out, Demir signaled for the dancers. After they began performing, he chose a beautiful amber wine, Summer Dusk, and sipped at it as he admired the dancing. It was one thing to watch them in practice, another to see them truly performing. Even more satisfying to see the nobles and others guests give them the praise and admiration they so deserved but never received from Kagan.

  They were halfway through the first of three dances when shouting and bellowing came from the hallway, and the doors were thrown open. The guards posted there were cast into the startled dancers, sending several of them to the floor.

  Guards all around the perimeter of the banquet hall rushed forward, drawing swords. Demir abandoned the table to attend the concubines, urging them behind him, putting himself between them and the guards who were facing off with….

  Merciful Divine, it could not be. "Prince Ihsan?"

  The man's eyes snapped to him, and around them everyone fell silent as realization dawned.

  Demir stared, but the image before him did not change. The man was dirty from days of travel, face scruffy from several days without shaving, and it looked as though someone had slammed his face into shards of glass there were so many cuts smattering it… but it was unmistakably Prince Ihsan. If nothing else, Demir knew those pale amber eyes Ihsan had inherited from his mother.

  Gathered around him were three men, one taller, two shorter than Ihsan. One, Demir recognized as Lord Sabah, the youngest son of Lord Cenk. When Ihsan had defied his father and the law to go to war, Sabah had gone with him. Everyone had been astonished since until then, no one had realized the two were such close friends.

  The second man looked familiar, but the memory would not come. The third man had skin like fresh milk and hair the color of candle-lit gold. His mouth was curved faintly, eyes bright with amusement. Honestly, only a foreigner would find anything about the situation amusing. Did a single one of them ever show proper respect for anything?

  He glanced away, back at Ihsan, and tensed anew to see Ihsan was staring back at him, eyes widened slightly. Why?

  Before he could figure out how to ask what was wrong, King Kagan bellowed for Ihsan. Demir stepped hastily aside as Ihsan strode forward, past him and the concubines, past all the tables, and up the steps of the dais to bow to his father. "Hail, father. I am at last returned home."

  "Fa!" Kagan slapped him, the sound sharp and painfully loud in the silence that still controlled the room. "Should I be impressed? I hope that you have returned because you have decided to be useful, though I doubt that as ugly as you have become. Who are these men who dare not kneel?"

  "They're exhausted, Father, as am I. They mean no offense, and I beg your forgiveness on their behalf. This is my harem. You should recognize Haluk, once my bodyguard. Lord Sabah of course you know. And the last is Master Kitt Stevens, from Rittu. He was a fellow prisoner of war in the camp where I was held for two years and joined me when I finally escaped."

  "They behave like soldiers, not concubines. Why do you arrive looking and acting like a bandit when you should have taken time to present yourself properly instead of insulting me this way?"

  Ihsan bowed his head. More than his face had changed in the years of his absence. The crown prince who had stormed off to go to war would have gone toe to toe with his father, made a spectacle of the matter. Instead, he only said, "I was eager to be home, Father, and too excited to muster patience. Are you not happy to see me?"

  "I will be happy to see you when I am certain you will not run off again."

  "Of course, Father." Ihsan bowed. "Pardon me, then, and I will go get settled and clean. I will see you again in the morning. Blessings of the Divine to you and all your guests." He bowed low and, at Kagan's dismissal, turned on his heel and strode back down the dais. His eyes swept the room. "Where is Zehra?"

  "Dead," Kagan said flatly. "She behaved like a whore and was punished for it."

  The color bled from Ihsan's face. His hands curled into fists, and for a moment it looked like was going to speak. But then Lord Sabah stepped
in close, touched his arm and whispered in his ear. Ihsan gave a terse nod, then looked around the room once more. This time, his gaze landed on Fatih. "Captain, when you are able, attend me, please." He dredged up a smile, though it looked out of place with the heavy sadness in his eyes. Fatih bowed his head, and Ihsan's gaze shifted once more, stopping when he met Demir's eyes. "Harem Master, to me, please. I require your assistance regarding my harem."

  Demir looked to Kagan, who nodded. Bowing to him, Demir then turned to Ihsan and bowed again. "It would be my honor to assist you, Highness." Ihsan strode past him, flocked by his harem, and Demir followed them out. The doors closed on the rush of conversation that followed in their wake.

  They walked through the halls in a silence broken only by the jangle of sword belts and Demir's keys. When they reached Ihsan's chambers, always minimally maintained on the chance he might someday return, a line of servants already waited. Demir removed a key from his chain and handed it to a young servant he recognized and had relied upon before. "Go to the harem hall. Have guards bring me the three black trunks in the storeroom behind my office. This will unlock the door. Lock it again when they're done and bring the key back to me. You and only you are permitted to touch this key. None but you and the guards may enter the storeroom, and only for the trunks."

  "Yes, Harem Master." The servant bowed, took the key, and raced off.

  Demir followed Ihsan into his chambers through the front room into the bedroom, where servants had somehow managed to light a fire against the night chill and set out everything they would need to bathe alongside the bathing pool in the far corner.