Page 23 of Untouched Queen by Royal Command

‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘And, forgive me the intrusion, but do you find sex satisfactory?’

‘What are you now? My virgin sex therapist?’

‘Do you need one?’

He barked a laugh. Better than a growl for this confidante with a sharply honed wit. ‘I get by.’

‘Some of your ancestors have preferred men. They’ve required wives who could accommodate those preferences. Turn a blind eye at times.’

‘I prefer women.’ Truth.

‘What of fidelity?’ she asked. ‘Will you practise it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you require fidelity from your wife?’

‘Yes.’ Surely she knew this already? He’d already banned her from taking her kisses elsewhere and had almost punished her guard the other morning for daring to spar with her. ‘I don’t share.’

More typing and no comment whatsoever.

‘I’m thirty years old. I prefer women to men. I’ve never been in love. And I thought I had more time in which to marry before the courtesans of old descended from a mystical mountain to help me do my duty,’ he offered curtly. ‘I can find my own wife, regardless of what you, your Order or my sister might think. The only reason I’m here is because I refuse to let you conspire behind my back. You may as well conspire with me. It’ll go much faster if we work together on this.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she offered quietly.

‘I also want to be able to explain your role here without calling into question my sanity, my morals or yours. From here on in when you’re dealing with my staff or handling guest lists you’ll be known as Lady Sera Boreas, Executive Function Manager for the Royal Palace of Arun. You’ll answer to me or my executive secretary. You will oversee the functions in person but not be in attendance as a guest. I want you in corporate clothing. Smart suits, modest jewellery, tidy hair. No shackles or manacles, no golden bustiers, no six-inch heels while you’re on duty in public.’

‘And in private?’

‘I can’t tell you what to do once you’re in the privacy of your own quarters.’

‘Actually, you ca—’

‘Don’t say those words.’

It occurred to him that he was already telling her what to do in the privacy of her quarters, and he smiled without humour. It was an impossible situation and he saw no way out of it other than to make her leave or turn her into a respectable employee of the palace. He waved his hand around the room. ‘All that you’ve brought to my palace works against me in the wider world. The rebirth of these quarters is all my staff can talk about. Word has spread. King Augustus of Arun keeps a courtesan hidden in a round room, built like a birdcage. He’s been bewitched, his needs are dark, he’s not a modern-day king. You’re a sorceress, a temptress, a creature of myth. That’s what they’re saying about you, me and this situation. It’s time to take control of this narrative.’

‘You want to reframe me.’

He nodded. ‘Minimise the mystery. Modernise the mythology. I need you to arrange for one piece of art to be displayed in the palace’s grand entrance hall. I want notes to accompany it, emphasising its historical significance. I want a dozen books from your collection showcased in the state library, several pieces of art or treasures of historical significance in circulation throughout our galleries. I want a narrative built around the Order of the Kite that starts with it being supportive, historically complex, non-political, culturally significant and ends with the information about your current non-sexual role in my administration. I want you to give history talks in university lecture halls and libraries. I want you to be the guest of honour as each treasure on display is unveiled. I want you to talk about the Order of old and then I want you to talk about the roles women have traditionally played in government, the roles open to them today and your own education.’

‘Your Majesty, the Order does not seek publicity.’

‘Then they shouldn’t have sent you here.’ His gaze clashed with hers, storm clouds meeting a bleak black sea. ‘I’m asking you to be a modern-day woman for a modern-day audience. One who embraces the history and power of your Order and can competently explain your presence here. One who shines a favourable light on us both. Do it or I’ll do it for you.’

Augustus shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. Looking at her never ended well. He always grew resentful of his body’s instinctive response and his brain lost its way. ‘You’re not stupid, Sera. Philosophy, politics and economics—those are your degree subjects and you only ever earned distinction marks or higher. If you want power here I’m challenging you to take it openly. Carve out a place for yourself that the public will accept. That I can accept.’ He spared a glance for the pleasure wheel. ‘Because there are too many elements here that I dare not accept.’

‘Your Majesty—’

He wanted to hear her say his name. Not Your Majesty or milord or sire. Only his mother and sometimes his sister had managed to make his name sound anything more than an unwieldy mouthful. They’d laced it with affection and love. Exasperation too, for his cool and calculating deliberations. His father didn’t call him by name all that often. His father called him Son and it was a reminder of his role in the continuation of their line more than anything.

He wanted to hear her say his name but there was no picture in the carpet for that. ‘The only words I want to hear out of your mouth are “I accept your challenge and this amazing opportunity to become a relevant member of your court”.’

Silence filled the room as he looked up to the soaring ceiling, anywhere but at the woman seated somewhere to his left. There were other ways he could deal with this. Send her away on a quest, take his case to parliament and the high courts and dissolve the accord and make an enemy of a secret Order with tentacles everywhere. The way he’d outlined—dealing openly with a modern interpretation of her position here—was by far the best. But he needed her co-operation.

‘I accept your challenge.’

He closed his eyes as her soft words slid through him and with them came relief. ‘Your owls have returned,’ he said by way of acknowledgement. ‘Two of them. Are they inside or out?’

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