Valerian sat staring out his window. In his hand he held a missive from the Eastern Plains, where the Moglu rebels were stirring up more unrest. It was hard to subjugate a people when their heroes continued to elude capture. People were looking to the rebels’ leader, Grulon Ni Coro, to free them from tyranny. But in a twist of fate, a stunning unintentional victory, Grulon Ni Coro’s blood sister was now in Valerian’s harem.

He wondered what Grulon would do if he knew his sister Melena was shisha to Valerian -- if he knew she was becoming willing and compliant for him. If he knew Valerian was going to strive to make her love him one day. He was unlike his brother in that way. Vicktor felt fear led to ultimate control. Valerian desired domination as well, but on a completely different level. He preferred loyalty to fear.

Valerian folded the missive and snapped his fingers sharply. A servant appeared at his elbow. “Take this and place it on my table, directly in front of my chair.”

“Yes, Sir,” the small female said softly before taking the letter and hurrying to do as instructed.

It did him no good to sit here and mull over things he could not control. Vicktor was not one of those things. Valerian had learned to manage his brother. It took a certain skill to do so. It took a man willing to spend all his time and energy balancing on the precipice between doing enough and going too far.

Valerian sighed and pushed to his feet. His mind would not rest. Why could he not just be satisfied with his life the way it was? What was it he was searching for, anyway? He was afraid one day he would get sick of his brother’s warmongering -- or he would get sick of his brother, period.

And do what? What would or could he do? Turn against his brother? Try to become emperor himself? No. He did not want that mantle. It was too heavy. He was his brother’s general, a cunning tactician who had yet to be bested in any undertaking. One day a better tactician, a better soldier, would be brought to bear against Valerian. Oh, what a worthy battle that would be. He longed for that. A worthy battle. What he did now, for his brother, was not so worthy. He invaded the lands of innocent people, killed their men, and enslaved their people. All under his brother’s commands. Were it up to him…

But it wasn’t up to him. What he needed was a worthy diversion.

He needed something fresh and exciting. Something new.

He whistled sharply, and another servant popped up beside him.

“Yes, Sir?” he asked softly.

“Tell Anajou to prepare Melena for my pleasure tonight.”

“Yes, Sir.” The servant hastened off to do as instructed.

Valerian crossed the room to his bed and eyed the room critically for a moment. He wanted to make certain he had everything he needed. He wanted to know he could take his time with his new shisha, the latest lady to join his harem.

He had his favorites. His top three were the harem mothers, the women who cared for and guided all the other shishas -- Anajou, Daria, and Hassa, the original three who had begun his harem. The three of them had been a gift from his brother on the day Vicktor’s first child, a daughter, was born. Valerian had not been allowed to keep a harem until that birth five years ago. Even though he had a harem now, none of his women was allowed to get pregnant and give birth until one of Vicktor’s shishas finally gave birth to a son, thus securing the succession of his empire.

Valerian pulled open his top dresser drawer, withdrew a key, and unlocked the chest at the foot of the bed. Unlocked, but did not open it. He knew what was in there. He would access the contents a little later, after Melena had been brought to him.

He smiled to himself when he thought of Melena. She was full of fire and defiance. But now, after spending a day and a night in his company, she was softening. She was confused. She didn’t know what to make of the situation she found herself in. He needed to gain her trust. In order to do that he needed to keep the promise he had made to her to find her sisters and bring them to her in safety… provided they were still alive and could be found. That was his next task. He could tell just how special she was. She could be very important to him. Yet trust was needed on both sides. It would take a lot for him to come to trust her… if she could be trusted. He didn’t know her well enough yet. But she showed incredible promise.

First he must break her down. Not break her will. He wouldn’t want that. Her will was one of the most beautiful things about her. He must break down the walls that stood between them. Walls like her hatred for his people. Her inherent mistrust of men… something she might not even realize she had. He wasn’t sure yet. He needed to break through this idea she had that giving in to him would be the same as losing herself. That was going to be the tricky part.

He called a servant to him, took out a quill, and began to write instructions. He bade the servant wait when he was done, and he left the letter open on the desktop.

The doors to the harem opened a short time later, admitting Melena, escorted by a guard. She was dressed in sheer emerald silks that were tied to her body in various places. She wore a free-flowing skirt that swished about her finely shaped calves. She was an incredibly fit woman, her body forged by hard labor on a farm. But she was not masculine in the least. She had beautiful curves in all the right places. Her breasts, which he knew were tipped with deep berry-colored nipples, were perfect handfuls for his large hands. She wasn’t in the least frail or petite or delicate. She was strong and sturdy and ready to give back as much as he doled out.

He couldn’t have dreamed up a better woman for himself. He smiled when he saw her unbound hair. He had told her he didn’t want to see it bound any longer. He liked it loose and sheeting down her back in a curtain of silken white. He would have to move it out of the way if he was going to apply a flogger, but that was easy enough. The only downside was that it hid the stripes he had given her the night before. Then again, he hadn’t broken her skin or harmed her in any way that would have carried over into the next day. It was likely there was hardly anything to see.

He felt anticipation and excitement quicken the blood in his veins as he watched her move. Of course, he would never betray his eagerness, but he would know it was there. It was part of the game. How to keep hidden from her what he could not hide from himself.

She was really quite beautiful. She had wide-set mink-colored eyes, the warm brown welcoming and deep, even when she was not feeling so welcoming. Her nose was a strong line, her nostrils slightly flared. She had a lush mouth that he knew was made for kissing and other more carnal pleasures. He thought she might have two dimples if she smiled, but he had not given her reason to smile so far. He anticipated that changing. Part of the enjoyment of this process was the idea of making her comfortable in surroundings that were inherently uncomfortable to her mindset.

“Melena,” he said by way of greeting. “Take your place.”

“M-my place?” she asked, clearly confused.

“On your knees at the foot of the bed.”

“Oh,” she said, frowning. The very opposite of a smile. But he was a patient man. Usually. There was something about her that made him a little impatient. He would have to check that emotion. He thrived on controlling that which was hard to control within himself.

Melena hesitated in her steps, and he watched her debate her willingness to obey his directive. Her face was truly expressive. Easy to read. That would help him gauge when too much was too much. After all, his goal was to train her. There were ways of doing that without hurting her. Any pain she suffered had to border on pleasure. That was his goal. To teach her that training was for her benefit. For her pleasure.

She relented rather quickly, but her expression told him she was not happy about it. She had had a night and a day to think about all that had transpired the night before. She had had time to stew in the idea that she had given in to him without too much of a fight. Now she was angry. Mostly with herself. She no doubt felt she had betrayed herself, her brother, and her people by finding pleasure at the touch of their enemy. She was out of step. Off-balance.

Exactly where he wanted her to be.

She dropped to her knees at the foot of the bed with a huff. Her expression was quite surly.

“Is there a problem?” he asked her.

“No,” she said shortly.

He tsked. “Have you forgotten the rules so quickly?” he asked.

She looked at him in confusion.

“No… what?” he prompted her.

“No, Sir,” she bit out.

“Good. But it is clear you are lying to me. There is something quite wrong in your universe. Tell me what it is.”

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t like it here, and I don’t like you!”

“What’s so bad about being here?” he asked, trying to contain a smile. She was simply gorgeous.

“I’m a slave! I can’t go where I want and do what I want. You have me sleeping with those women… your perfumed little puppets. I don’t want to be like them. I’m not like them!”

“No. You are not like them. You are individually unique. But don’t you think they are happy?”

She frowned. “Do they have a choice? They have to make do with the situation.”

“And you can’t do that?”

“No! I mean… Yes, I could, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to be here!”

“Hmm. It seems you are determined to be contrary. What do you think happens when you are being contrary?”

Her eyes widened. No, he thought, she was no fool. She knew exactly what was in store for her. Yet she bucked him just the same. It was that spirit within her that ignited him. It made him hard to think about her giving as good as she got. But he wanted her willing. He wouldn’t force himself on her. She would choose to be his in the end. It was a choice, just like all the other choices he gave her. Unlike his brother, he was not turned on by the act of rape… the act of taking a person against her will. Valerian wanted nothing that wasn’t freely given. The trick was getting her to think she wanted to freely give to him. Him. Her perceived enemy.

But he was not her enemy. Quite the opposite. He was now her defender. Her strength. No one could touch her without answering to him. No one would ever hurt her or abuse her. He would keep her safe. He simply had to make her realize that.

“You can punish me if you like, but I will only hate you more,” she said defiantly.

“You do not hate me,” he said softly as he walked to the end of the bed and stood before the chest.

“I do! I despise you! I loathe you and all that you are. The only person I hate more is your brother!”

“Come to me here,” he said, pointing to the floor beside his feet. She glared at him, but then crawled over to him on her hands and knees. He smiled inside that she did not get up and walk to him. She didn’t realize it, but the act of crawling was a victory for him. She was being trained without even knowing it.

“Actually, I have a better idea.” He strode over to the table and stood beside it. “Come here.”

This would be a slightly harder task. The floor beside the bed was covered in a thick carpet, but the floor between there and where he was now standing was made of stone. It was cold and an uneven surface. It would dig into her tender knees.

Clearly she realized this as she hesitated.

“I promise you, it will be worth your while,” he said.

With a huff she dropped onto her hands and crawled across the floor to him. When she reached him, she sat up and sat back on her heels.

“Take the letter and read it,” he said, picking up the letter and holding it out to her. “You did say you could read? Can you read Jorkunian?”

“Yes,” she said, taking the letter. She opened the carefully creased folds and began to read the letter. He watched the expressions on her face carefully. He need not have scrutinized her so closely. She was as easy to read as the letter was. “This… this is a letter instructing your lieutenants to find my sisters.” Her fingers shook, rattling the paper. She looked up at him, a combination of hope and fear in her eyes. The hope he understood. The fear not so much.

“Does this not please you?”

“How do I know you’ll actually send it?”

“I won’t send it. You will.” He beckoned forward the servant who had been waiting against the wall. “Give it to the boy, and he will take it straight to my most trusted lieutenant. It is a command straight from my pen and will be treated with the utmost urgency. If your sisters are alive, they will be found. If they are dead, that will be discovered as well. Either way, you will know what has become of them. If they are found, as you see is instructed in the letter, they will be brought directly here. They will be treated with care and dignity during their travel here. Once they arrive… “

“I will get to see them?” she asked eagerly.

“Provided you behave. But I’m afraid that is a privilege that must be earned.”

“Earned? How do I earn it?” she asked suspiciously.

There was that fear in her eyes again, hidden under a great deal of bravado, but he could see it. “By behaving as I expect you to behave.”