Unveiling the Sorceress

As the Aleem warriors and servants were picked up, one by one, and brought to her, the shaved-head leader glowered and cursed. “You will never subject the Empress Elishiba to your will,” he spat at Mehmet and Sibias.

"What a loyal, devoted slave you are,” Mehmet commented. “However, you are somewhat outnumbered, as you may have noticed."

He ignored her remark.

She gestured to the four massive warriors, who proceeded to lift the chains that hung from his shackled wrists, looping them across his back, tying them in place, so that the chains ran along the outside of his arms and across his shoulder blades to latch together at his spine. Metal poles were inserted into slots in the chains at his shoulders and elbows, so that the four men could move the Aleemite between them and keep him at arm's length. It was a clever gadget, one her late husband had brought home from his travels, where he had seen enormous creatures kept as pets this way.

With the shaved-head warrior eventually under their control, they pushed him down on to his knees, before her.

Mehmet stroked her riding crop through the palm of her hand as she observed him bucking against them. “I like your spirit. What is your name?"

He ignored her question, a growl in his throat as he flashed menacing glances at his captors.

She strolled over to him, lifting his glowering face with the tip of her crop beneath his chin.

He jerked his head away. She c

ouldn't help pausing to admire the view. The taut lines of his neck tapered into powerful shoulders, the muscles in his upper arms flexing as he tried to break free of the shackles. For a moment she thought he might manage it. His arms were rigid with effort, and the edge of the shackles bent and lifted as he twisted his wrists within them.

"They call him Xerxes,” interrupted Sibias. Jealousy flickered in his eyes.

Mehmet smiled.

She returned her attention to the man on his knees. “Xerxes, is it?"

He glared at her, but did not speak. Her grip on the crop tightened. She lashed out with the crop, scoring his face across his cheekbone, blood smarting from the wound. He did not flinch under the blow, staring at her all the while. She gave a wry smile. She couldn't be sure her own warriors would behave so well.

In the background, a pair of Karseedian guards brought in two more of the Aleemite party, a young woman and a fair-haired youth. They stared aghast at the sight of Xerxes bound at her feet.

"Elishiba's servants,” Sibias commented.

She was still annoyed that she'd been unable to force the man on his knees to acknowledge her, but she had what she wanted—bargaining power with Elishiba. Sibias had told her this man was a favorite, Elishiba's most trusted warrior.

"Take these prisoners to the temple,” she instructed. “Who is left?"

Sibias's eyes glinted. “One woman servant who is with her in her chamber.” He paused, a look of relish passing over his expression. “And Amshazar."

"Ah yes, Amshazar. The nomad."

Sibias had bided his time well. They both had. But they had suffered her son's strange friend for long enough. She had good reason to punish Hanrah now. He had disobeyed her wishes by keeping his forbidden lover in the city secretly, against her will. Her men had already hunted down Hanrah's lover and taken him to the temple, where he would be offered as a sacrifice to the god of war. A fitting tribute, she mused, with relish.

She felt no remorse for Hanrah over the loss of his chosen courtesan. He'd gone against her wishes for the slave's fate. That payment in death had already been promised, many moons ago. The death of Amshazar would be Hanrah's punishment for going against her will secretly. Then, with the fruits of the marriage harvested, her most powerful time would truly begin.

* * * *

"I need you, Amshazar."

Amshazar groaned with longing. Her words rang through him, quickening him to his vitals. Why, he asked himself, why was he overcome by such urgent desire when danger lurked all around them? When she had said those words, and he'd seen the look on her face, his loins immediately began to flood with vigor, his entire body straining to be close to her. He wanted her, yes. And badly. But there was something else in him, relief. The painful doubts he'd endured when he thought that he had estranged her after her handmaid's murder. The relief he felt, knowing that was behind them, was great.

Their destiny was carved, and where it led he could not tell. But beyond that the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to know more of this woman. This woman who had kept him awake at night since he had first laid eyes on her, and when he did sleep, he dreamt of her. He needed to understand this. He needed to know what this emotion was that haunted him constantly. It was not a mistake, he told himself, what had happened between them. He had wondered, after that fateful night in the desert. But now, he was sure of himself.

Her voice was so warm and vibrant when she whispered her need. It hummed like a firefly on the wings of the night, as redolent and vivid as the physical heat she was emanating. She smelt fresh and alive and he tasted pure pleasure on her lips. He moved her up against the wall, lifting her easily against the hard surface. She gripped his shoulders in both hands, breathing fast, her eyes wide. He wanted to get her out of her clothes, to feel her need trembling through her naked body, to answer it with his own, but there wasn't time.

"Elishiba, I love you,” he murmured as he kissed her skin, his hands lifting her skirts. “Since I first met you I have wanted you. Our time is short, but I need this as much as you do.” He stroked his hand over her lush, intimate flesh, his phallus growing rigid when he felt it give beneath his fingers, and the dew of her desire seeped onto his fingertips.

She moaned in response to his words and actions. “Gods, Amshazar, what are you doing to me?"

"Taking pleasure in you; you are so ripe for this.” He continued his mastery of her senses, stroking her bud until she was shivering with torment, her mouth open, and her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Oh yes, my sweet Elishiba, you are ready for this."