Chapter Two
“You ass,” said Night.
“Watch your language,” said the king.
From my hiding spot, I heard an alarming scuffle. I peered around the corner of the hall.
Night was actually struggling against his father’s cyborg grip. He had no chance of escaping, but he tried. He had always been a stubborn one, that boy.
The king held him tightly by the upper arm. His other silver hand lay firm against Night’s nape. His black cloak billowed about them both as they struggled.
The door to the sacred chamber automatically opened. King Dusk shoved his son across the threshold.
Night gave a yell of protest, then hissed, “What do you think you locking me in here will accomplish?”
“Reverence for the temple.”
Night scoffed, and then laughed. “I’ll sit in here all day and I won’t do a thing. You can’t make me.”
“Then you’ll stay in there forever, your only companion the Guide the Academy has chosen for you.”
“Fuck you!”
“The language of babies,” the king said. “But soon you will be a man.”
From inside the doorway, framed in pink light, Night looked the king up and down, the old ruler’s metal arms, his chest plates, his shining silver scalp, his carapace that shone blue in the corridor’s misty lightning.
“I am a man,” said Night. “What are you?”
Without answering, King Dusk backed away. The door closed. He pressed his metal hand on the lock and I heard it clicking into place—tick-tick-tick.
But there was a second way in. I had been on my way there before I stopped to hide. The back way led to a secret entrance to the Sacred Chamber of Exalted Pleasure where I was to make my appearance and awe the room’s occupant. That’s how it always went.
But this time I knew my presence was not going to awe this room’s occupant. It was going to take all my training to seduce this stubborn, cocky, wild prince.
For the first time in my life of participating in the Rite of Ecstasy—or in this case, the Enforced Rite—for of-age virgins in our society, I feared failure.
I punched in the code for the secret entrance and moved across the shining marble floor of the inner foyer.
Now the only physical barrier between me and the prince was a red velvet curtain.
My heart hammered. Not a normal response for me. I loved my place in society initiating virgins in their ecstasy rites. My body-temple loved sex, pleasure and ecstasy, whether giving or receiving. This was not difficult for me, for this was my talent, my calling.
But today Night stood beyond that curtain. My best friend since we were babes. My childhood buddy.
And I knew he wanted nothing to do with me.
The digital cams would be on us, for this was not a private ritual. Citizens, fathers, brothers, mothers, and sisters could tune it in and out at will. Night’s initiation would be broadcast.
As if the pressure wasn’t already enough.
I took deep breaths. Squared my shoulders. Pushed aside my long and scintillating gold-sprayed dark hair. Licked my lips. Bounced up and down on the balls of my feet.
I could not make myself move forward.
Night did not want me. I knew that. My training covered such aberrations, but had never been put to the test.
First I was to always speak softly, so as not to startle. Never take insults personally. Never expect a return of pleasure for pleasure given. With all my assigned virgins, it had never come to any of that. Their first forays into ecstasy with another person, with me, were friendly, warm, and inviting. With shared mutually content afterglows.
I knew it would not be so this time.
My stomach flipped. I dreaded this assignment.
My fingers curled into determined fists. I would do this. I could do this.
My muscles released. I could move again. I took a step forward. Parted the curtain.
I saw Night, dressed in form-fitting worn blue denim, sporting knee-high boots, and a willowy white shirt, standing at the far end of the room. His back was to me, his brown hair gleaming where it brushed the edges of his neck. He was long-limbed, tall. Lean as wind. Through the tight denim slacks I could see the wiry frame of him, how taut he was; I could see the stiffness in him, and the wildness of a man who acted as if he’d been born in a cage instead of Android City and the freedom of privilege.
He stood against a panoramic window that took up half the wall. It overlooked the glints and glimmers and magic violet flicker of the city. We were on the highest floor so the view included the bleakness of the desert of the Grim Lands beyond the city walls.
I took another step forward, my silks rustling.
Night startled. Turned. And the beauty of his perfect oval face was caught in the lamplight and city-light, gold and violet mixing upon his features. His sleek eyebrows arched. It took him less than a second to recognize me. He gasped.
“You!”
I blinked hard. Took a slow breath. The heart knows when it’s been shattered and does not easily forget.
“Star?”
I nodded once. If I had not been so well-trained, I might have been embarrassed. This was hard on both of us. Archenemies and all.
The room seemed like a dream, all made up for the occasion in swirls of silver streamers and shivering candlelight by a large bed covered in deep blue comforters and pillows. On a nearby table sat a bucket of ice, a bottle of wine propped within. The goblets shone. Everything was like diamonds in a warm rain of light. Even the floor, which was polished so heavily it gleamed like a mirror beneath our feet.
Above us, on the ceiling and embedded into the walls, camera lights winked blue, like android eyes.
I don’t know how long we stared at each other. It felt like minutes but was probably only seconds. Then suddenly, as if a balloon had burst, Night began to laugh. It was neither a happy laugh, nor one of dismay or, even, despair. It was sharp and raucous. Drunken, almost. Cruel.
Night laughed and laughed, then pointed at me as if something were very wrong.
I stood quite still and let the commotion wash over me, trying to feel nothing. And failing.
Night continued to laugh, grabbing his stomach, doubling over.
“Star,” he said between guffaws. “I can’t believe it’s you. After all this time. Of all the gods that never were…” His voice trailed off.
I swallowed hard, pretending nothing was amiss, and took another step toward the table. “May I have some wine?”
“Wine?” His laughter slowly subsided, but he still chuckled. “You want wine?”
I nodded, going to the table and gracefully taking the bottle, fastening the opener, removing the cork.
The cameras were on us. Of that I could never forget. This was a performance. A rite of passage. That was all.
“Wine before we strip and get to it, eh?” asked Night.
“If that is your wish,” I replied.
“My wish is to get out of here. Now.” His tone took on an edge.
I looked up. He was no longer smiling.
“You father has locked us in.”
“Yeah, but you know the code to the back.”
I shook my head. “It’s double enforced to secure us for the time it takes for the ritual. The combination changed the moment I closed the door behind me.”
Night smirked. “Figures. Ass. You could have left it propped open.”
“Why?” I asked, without turning away from the table.
I poured the wine. One for me. None for him. He could pour his own.
I turned toward him, put the goblet to my lips and sipped. It cooled and heated my mouth and throat at the same time.
After a moment of silence, Night said, “Why, you ask? Why? Tell me the truth. You want this. You relish this assignment. You got me in the raffle. And you’re loving it.”
“There was no raffle. I was chosen.” I took another sip.
“To what? Fuck the virgin prince? What a crock!”
“On the contrary. It is the highest of honors,” I said. “Plus, we were once friends.” I felt a moment of vulnerability and blurted before I could stop myself. “It is nice to see you again. Night.” My lips trembled on an unsure smile.
“Nice? Nice you say? They took you away from me. Made you a whore. And you say this is nice? This meeting here and now? This atrocity of a ritual?”
It hurt. His words. His disapproval of my honorable accolades. All of it. He was such a rebel, even as a kid. Once, I’d admired him for it. Now he was just being mean.
“You should have some wine,” I said. “Maybe it will make all this easier.” My voice came out clear, level, but inside I was shaking.
“Fuck you.”
I blinked. Pieces of me felt like they were floating away. Other pieces, the parts of me called ego and self-worth and self-respect, hardened. “Suit yourself,” I said, and went to lounge on the bed. It did, after all, look amazingly comfortable. As I lay back, wine in hand, the bed cupped me in billows of cushioning softness. It smelled crisp and clean, like a summer breeze.
I stared upward at the sparkling crystal chandelier in the middle of the room.
Out the corner of my eye, I saw Night walk to the table, heard the splash of wine hitting glass. Good. It was a first step to civility I hoped.
I had a million questions I wanted to ask him. But I couldn’t. Not because of the cameras. They were visual only, no audio. But because of him. His behaviors, his untamed beliefs and disrespect, being a malcontent. And because of us.
I heard him mumbling under his breath. Words like, “ridiculous”, and “madness” and “fucking unbelievable”.
Night walked back to the panoramic window and stood for a long time. His figure made a nice silhouette. He sipped his wine casually.
Someone had to break the ice.
“When you were little, you used to sit in the tower room and gaze out over the Grim Lands,” I said.
His reply came low and firm. “I’m not going to fall for it.”
“What?”
“You, playing your game to reel me in.”
“I’m just trying to have a conversation.”
“Don’t,” he said. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk at all.”
“All right.” My hopes fell. My training to not take anything personally was failing. He’d wanted nothing to do with me for years. It hurt.
“I don’t want to do anything with you,” he said. “We’ll pretend we’re each alone here. Eventually, they have to let us out.”
“Your father’s the king. I don’t think he has to do anything.”
He turned from the window, face in shadow. I could not see his expression, but I could feel the hate aimed at me. It was burning, like a hot light. I had the impulse to put my hand up to my face to protect myself from the heat.
Over the years I had convinced myself that he’d been jealous, and later, after we’d both matured, that he’d simply lost interest in me. Or forgotten me.
But his recognition of me, and his fiery emotions, communicated something else.
I figured he despised me because of my calling. He had called me a whore, which not only failed to describe my role, it was meant as an insult.
But now I realized this went deeper.
For me this was no surprise. I cared about him. I’d grieved the loss of our friendship. But for him to hold a deeper grudge, this was very personal.
All my training told me to ignore it. This was about the rite of Ecstasy. Nothing more.
He’d been partially right that if nothing happened between us in a reasonable amount of time, the doors of the Sacred Chamber would be opened. But not to let him out. No. To let me go, and bring another partner. They would go through this process for as long as it took until Night settled for one of them, completed the rite, and could no longer be labeled a virgin.
I could ignore his grudges. Be professional. But I knew it would get us nowhere.
If I threw all my training aside and made this personal, very personal in return, I might have a chance. Otherwise, this angry young man who was a stranger to me now would remain unreachable.
“I’m curious. When you sneaked into the Grim Lands, what were you hoping for? Were you simply running away?” I asked.
“I’m not going to talk to you! I told you!”
I saw him clench his hands into fists.
Maybe if I could get him to punch me…
“Were you so angry you would risk your very life?” I asked.
“Star,” he added, “just shut up, all right?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I said so.”
“Because you’re the prince. Nicely spoken, but I take orders from the king,” I said.
He let out a long and angry sigh.
“I’ll talk if I want to.” Defiance slept within me, too. Always had. Night was not the only one. But it did not rule me. I could count the number of times I’d spoken back to my trainers on one hand. I got along with most people. My fellow students at the Academy liked me. My existence was a peaceful one, fun and exciting. When I was not busy serving others in their pleasure rites, I had time for swimming, art, exercise, and playing games with friends. At the Academy, we were forbidden to have sex with each other, for we were trained only to serve in that capacity. It was enough for me. Some did break the rules. If caught, they spent time in isolation to regain their professional minds. Though it was considered a disgrace, a rare few left the Academy. We did not speak of them, or ever learn if they found happiness and contentment elsewhere.
I had finished my wine and got up from the bed to pour myself another glass. I glanced at Night. The closer I got to him, the better I could see his face. He glared.
No one deserved such hate, I thought. Especially me. I did everything right. And I was kind to all.
Since we were being watched, I wondered what the spectators thought of this scene. They could not hear us, but they could see our emotions, and the distance between us. Nothing was happening. If they were hoping for action, they’d be disappointed. Maybe they thought I’d lost my touch. This might be bad for my reputation.
But honestly, I didn’t care.
I cared only about Night in this moment. And despite all the tension and the ugly remarks from him, my whole body warmed to see him again. To hear his voice. To savor that haughty dissent that made him unique and tantalizing. Once he’d been my best friend. Memories of childhood crept up on me as if they happened only yesterday.
“I still remember everything we did together when we were kids,” I said.
“Asshole,” came the reply.
“Why do you hate me so?”
He turned away, kicking at the smooth floor. “Hate you? You’re nothing to me. How can I hate nothing? Your name should be Nothing. If I ever get to be king some day, after my eight brothers wear their bodies out, I’ll decree you shall change your name to Nothing. If, that is, you’re still around.”
Through the windows, a trillion light flickered throughout the city. Beyond, upon the blackness of the Grim, a million stars splashed the skies. Everything around us was electric and fiery. Except us. The two of us… we did not glow right now. Or flicker. Or feel any fiery heat. We were as cold as snow upon the ruin of a once warm hearth.
We were two ghosts in the Sacred Chamber of Exalted Pleasure awaiting release from what could have been. If only I hadn’t left him. If only we’d been together through all these years.