Ruler's Concubine Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 Peri Elizabeth Scott

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-992-5

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  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

  Ruler's Concubine is dedicated to my loyal betas, J.J. Lore and Jennifer Simpkins, wonderful authors in their own right, and to my editor Audrey Bobak, whose considerable expertise made this book shine!

  RULER’S CONCUBINE

  Peri Elizabeth Scott

  Copyright © 2016

  Prologue

  “We have done all that can be accomplished, Ruler.” The other healer nodded in agreement, and the pity flitting across his stoic face conveyed more than the actual words. Lysett of the House of Daboort inclined his head and schooled his own features, forcing himself to accept the hard, brutal truth. His concubine was dying, and their recently conceived child with her.

  It was the same for most unions of his world. Fertile women were few and far between, and those who managed to conceive rarely went full term, the baby always failing to survive if born early. Others, as was now inevitable for his childhood friend, Trosan, succumbed to the pregnancy, long before their child was viable. What should have been an ecstatically happy time for all Meridian couples, learning they were to be parents, was one tainted by fear and anxiety.

  It was horrifyingly frustrating, that despite all their renowned technology, the Meridians were unable to address this medical issue. It was thought to be genetic, but if so, the genes mutated with abandon and could not be cataloged or corrected. Post mortems were now allowed, despite the cultural resistance to such things, but each and every case was different. It was time for a change, regardless of the resistance he’d likely face.

  “Leave us.” He nodded his understanding and appreciation of the fruitless efforts of the healers, despite his lowering heart.

  Squaring his shoulders and adopting a calm demeanor, he made his way into the sleeping chamber where he would sit with Trosan until she passed. The symptoms varied from female to female, but they all tended to slip away at the end, oblivious, as their bodies rejected the pregnancy and succumbed to the toxins. Her hand lay passively in his own throughout his vigil, but he told himself she knew he was there as he recounted their childhood adventures together.

  “Our union was inevitable, dear friend.” He said it out loud to convince himself it was true because had there been another female, one his body and soul responded to, he and Trosan would never have joined. Guilt soaked his being.

  “My childhood was full because of you.” That rang with utter sincerity, and now his future stretched out emptily.

  They were far better friends than lovers. But Trosan was willing to help him accomplish his duty—an heir to carry on the family line. His brother was long dead on the field of battle in a far-off station, and it fell to Lysett to ensure the continuation of his House and its rule.

  He smoothed the hair from her brow, marking her pallor. “How am I to rule without you to come home to and soothe my questions and self-doubt? And offer your insight?”

  There were some who might disagree, but the majority of Meridia’s citizens and those of the outlying planets didn’t chafe under his governance, and he did his best to live up to his credo, that of being fair and consistent whilst taking into account cultural differences. It meant a fine line to walk at times, but with Trosan in his home and his parents offering support and counsel despite their advancing years, Lysett couldn’t say he regretted his position. Until now. How would he find the time to grieve?

  Trosan moved slightly beneath his touch and he held his breath, but she didn’t open her eyes, even when he pressed her hand between his. His pain was exacerbated by that terrible guilt and nothing eased it. It had taken his best friend years to conceive, and he secretly wondered if it was because they came together in a lackluster regard for one another sexually, reliant upon the aphrodisiac elixir they imbibed to carry out their joining.

  The passionate joinings documented in the tomes of the past had fallen by the wayside in lieu of so-called improvements in lifestyle and far-reaching political aspirations. As Ruler, he was as guilty of perpetuating that lifestyle, perhaps more so.

  There were times he also wondered if Trosan longed for a passionate union with someone other than himself. Because he struggled from time to time with pressing sexual needs not assuaged by their times together to procreate. He had heated memories of earlier, purely sexual relationships to compare with the one he and Trosan shared, and those now brought him the darkest shame.

  He now told himself fiercely he’d take any additional number of years together with only Trosan in his life, forgoing any breeding efforts, if she might live through the affliction.

  “I am so sorry, Trosan.” He spoke quietly for hours, hoping she heard him and was comforted.

  Dawn was breaking in the west when she sighed her last, peaceful breath. It was as if she’d stepped away from him, no stutter in her chest or throat, merely gone. The sense of loss overwhelmed him in that instant, and he fell forward to rest his forehead on her belly, the swell of their child not yet apparent. He murmured his farewell to both, before once again composing himself and moving to the doorway to usher in her parents, inconsolable in their grief.

  It was a measure of just how dim the future was for Meridia, with its lack of children, that neither parent displayed any blame toward him for instigating the cause of her death. They accepted their daughter’s honorable patriotism and sense of duty, perhaps better than he had.

  Feeling adrift, he allowed his own parents to enfold him in their embrace and tried to respond appropriately to their condolences, but all he could think about was how he’d lost his best friend and was still beset with a daunting task. If he didn’t produce an heir within the next few years, males of other Houses who’d successfully procreated had the right to seek his office. If it was as simple as that, Lysett might be willing to step aside, and give up rule, but he knew from past history that Meridia would be plunged into civil war as factions battled for supremacy. He refused to be responsible for that if there was another way.

  “We both deeply regret your loss, son,” his father, Yu’un, said quietly. “We had hoped…”

  Ellyce, his mother, wept openly and whispered through her tears. “Trosan has been part of our family for so long. Yes, we had hoped.”

  He knew the thought of a grandchild had united Trosan’s parents again, for they too had married for political reasons, and while they liked and respected one another, love had never fully blossomed. His parents had a grand love, and he believed it significant that both he and his brother had been conceived and carried to term, whereas Trosan was an only child—and a female, the result of considerable medical tinkering. A miracle, she had very nearly not survived her birth—and he’d killed her.

  “We all hoped, Mother. Trosan no less than any of us. Duty has taken a terrible toll.”

  Extricating himself from his mother’s hold, he suggested she and Yu’un tend to Trosan’s parents and strode down the hall until he reached his work room. Bast was ensconced behind the smaller desk, working diligently on the documents and reports that never seemed to lessen in number, not even when the Ruler�
�s concubine was dying. They both normally worked in the government office, but naturally stayed in his home to be closer to his concubine. The other male jumped to his feet.

  “It is over then, Master?” Real sorrow filled Bast’s eyes. He’d known Trosan nearly as long as Lysett, and there were times when Lysett thought his first servant’s feelings went far deeper for Trosan than he let be known. For a moment, he envied the man his option of immersing himself in the mundane, rather than deal with the sadness of imminent death.

  “She is gone, Bast.” The statement helped Lysett accept the hard fact with utter intensity and he barely made it to a chair before his legs weakened.

  Master and servant sat in silence for some time, the suns rising and spreading their rays and warmth over the thick walls and lilting through narrow windows of Lysett’s abode. The shards of light made fanciful patterns on the tile floor and his mind traced over them, searching for a purpose. Finally, he stirred himself.

  “It’s distasteful to raise the issue, Bast, but duty waits for nothing and no one. I need an heir. The planet needs one. Have you made any progress?”

  Bast’s face was strained and his eyes weary, but he immediately turned to the task, taking up a screen tablet from the desk’s surface. Tapping through several pages, he nodded in apparent satisfaction, though spoke in an apologetic tone.

  “There is no doubt, Master. You are not fated to find a suitable concubine from this world. There are no compatible females in any database. But I have researched Meridia law, Ruler. Extensively. And I have had two of my assistant clerks double-check for me.”

  Lysett cut his servant off, experiencing no surprise at the news. There had never been a compatible female, other than for casual, if pleasurable, sexual encounters. It was why he and Trosan had mated, and she’d paid the ultimate price. “You’re saying I have options. Why is this something we’ve not heard before?”

  With a shrug, Bast set down his screen. “Meridians aren’t known for their, uh, acceptance of other cultures. At least they weren’t until your House assumed rule. The past speaks for itself. It was all about conquering and acquiring. Things have improved since then, insofar as tolerance levels improving amongst the populace. Perhaps because we lack for nothing else. We could look to other species, and I propose we do so.”

  Xenophobia had indeed been a historical fact, and Lysett knew that even today old distrusts and elitism remained in a few Houses. Bast was correct in his assumption that none of them would have voluntarily looked outside their own kind for a concubine, not even to bear a child. In truth, Lysett wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but after losing Trosan, he accepted the fact he likely had no choice. Meridians had no choice.

  Bast interpreted his silence as condemnation. “There will be other females from Meridia willing to take the risk, Master, if you believe it is perilous to flout convention. Perhaps with increased medical attention—”

  “No, it makes no sense. We have excellent medical knowledge and it would still be sentencing another of our females to death.”

  “Sir?”

  He focused his attention back on his first servant and donned the mantle of his leadership. “I haven’t the time. Meridia doesn’t have the time. Conception is uncertain and can take so long, and considering the unacceptable probability of the demise of both mother and child … it’s time we looked outside our world.”

  Bast waited patiently, knowing his master well.

  Lysett made a snap decision. “Search out any possible candidates from among the other planets. I will leave shortly for the Bra’oor quadrant, to meet with the General of our outpost there.”

  That particular General was a male after Lysett’s own heart, and after hearing Bast’s research, he thought to consult with the man about the plan to seek concubines from other species. He wouldn’t be overt, but could get a sense of the tolerance for such a thing. As Ruler, Lysett had learned to cloak his plans in distraction, the better to confuse and mislead others who wished him harm. The General had been utterly dependable in the past and would hopefully be so again.

  “The Bra’oor aren’t candidates, for certain,” his first servant offered.

  Lysett suppressed a shudder. The pale creatures with their transparent skin and elongated fingers, not to mention the third eyelid, didn’t appeal to him at all. He supposed they were elegant and cultured in their own way, but he tended toward…

  What exactly did draw him? Trosan was tall and voluptuous, with thick, dark hair that hung in rampant curls over her shoulders like all the other females on his planet, and her eyes were the pale green of their kind. He blocked off the memory and tamped down the misery and loss. He had to attend to his duties, and whomever Bast came up with, her appearance was moot. Perhaps any compatible species would be tougher, and he and his ruling House would be blessed with good fortune. Set the example for his people. He appreciated that other species might not be inclined to mate with a Meridian, but he pushed the vagrant thought aside. The Meridians were conquerors and there were many means to compel victory.

  “Find a match, Bast. Goddess willing, you’ll be successful.” Despite experiencing a sense of betrayal of Trosan, Lysett allowed himself a tiny glimmer of hope that he might yet save his kind.

  Chapter One

  “Where is she?” The bellow echoed above her and the forest went silent.

  Celeste Raynor huddled in the scraggly underbrush, cold and miserable. It was the second time the Searchers had attended her home, and this time, she’d nearly been caught. She hadn’t thought they’d come again so soon, and dismissed the early warning alarm as being triggered by one of the large deer who found her garden irresistible. Cobbling together rusting tin cans with painstakingly unwound fishing line might seem a poor means to alert a person, but it worked for her.

  The does and their fawns had to be disappointed by the lack of fodder, with only the root vegetables still in the ground, their foliage wilting with the onset of fall. Her garden was the sustenance for her and many of her far-flung neighbors, the same patch of land those idiots had trampled through, sneaking around the back way in an attempt to surprise her. It was the second rattle of tins, tied to a place no herbivore would trespass, that got her outside in time.

  “The wench isn’t here.” The new voice spoke the obvious, but his frustration was apparent. Another crash followed his pronouncement. “Did none of you see a sign?”

  Denials sounded faintly and there was an unmistakable snort of derision. “Search again, all nooks and crannies.”

  She had no idea what the Searchers wanted or why they had been sent to her home, but one didn’t hang around and ask questions. All she knew, was that of late, women were snatched up, taken away, and either didn’t return home or came back quite different, unable or unwilling to explain what had transpired. She’d heard the rumors and had seen the results with one, and decided not to make it a personal experience.

  Slipping out of a side window while two of the Searchers entered through the kitchen door, she had burrowed in behind the bushes that grew close to the old clapboards of the house. Trusting to the subdued colors of her clothing, she lay there motionless, listening to the sounds of the men tromping diligently through each and every room of the ramshackle abode. Loud, harsh voices spilled out of the cracked and badly patched windows, and she heard the unmistakable clatter of things being shoved over and tossed aside. It made her wince, because she had so little, and no way of replacing anything.

  “She might be in the village.” A whiny tenor voice made the suggestion. “Or at a neighbor’s.”

  Whatever the response was, she couldn’t hear it, as they vacated the room over her head. She prayed they didn’t decide to search the grounds, but no one came outside to look around, and after an eternity, heavy boots stomped down the warped floorboards on the steps, announcing the Searchers’ departure.

  She counted up the footsteps, marking the number of men, and her heart sank when she realized they’d left one of their kin
d back, presumably to wait and watch for her. Idly wondering how he would communicate with the rest if he was lucky enough to catch her—the inhabitants of planet had no devices to perform that task any longer, not since the arrival and departure of the Meridians—she swallowed down a harsh bite of laughter. One better fed, trained, and muscular Searcher against one short, untrained, and hungry woman … he didn’t need to call for backup.

  Waiting until the light faded demanded considerable, bone-chilling patience, but she schooled herself into subjugating the urge to jump up and run, knowing she wouldn’t get past the yard site if he spied her. At least she was on the side of the house closest to the forest, so could lose herself in amongst the trees, once it was dark. She’d face tonight and possibly tomorrow without food or shelter if she managed to escape unless she could find her way to her closest neighbor. She prayed no Searchers had gone to look for her there.

  When at last the dusk lowered, she eased along the side of the house, painstakingly crawling from shadow to shadow cast by the building against the fitful moonlight. The skin on the back of her neck itched, expecting a heavy hand—or a boot—at any moment, but she gained the outer edge of the trees without incident. Shivering and wishing she’d thought to snag a jacket during her impromptu escape, she ignored the growling of her belly and pulled herself up by using a convenient branch. There was a faint glow in the lower window of her home along the east wall, so the Searcher must have located her candles or her precious oil lamp. And was probably eating her paltry supplies.

  It was an unnerving trek in the dark, but she knew the area pretty well and did her best to ignore how cold she was, pretending there were no wild animals to be concerned about. After an eternity, she found her way to Johann and Laurel’s small plot of land, and sniffed the scent of their stove, following the burning aroma with anticipation. With the scarceness of the local population, finding firewood wasn’t a problem, a good thing, considering their frigid winters.