16. Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

“You have a visitor, my lord.” Gabar looked up as his slave-master bowed. Ibrahim wore his freshly powdered wig as usual, a scarlet tunic over black silk leggings, and leather sandals. His brown eyes gleamed with excitement, which meant he was probably fresh from whipping a slave bloody for some imagined infraction or had accepted the slave’s daughter as payment. She would be lucky if she were still alive. He knew Ibrahim’s taste ran to children. As a man, Ibrahim disgusted even him, but as a slave-master he was excellent. He was also his right-hand as much as Gabar would ever allow anyone to be.

Not that Gabar questioned the age of his own whores, but he needed them to do more than to lie frozen in a comatose-inducing terror.

“An envoy from the endless desert.”

Gabar frowned. The endless desert wasn’t a kingdom, simply a huge stretch of sand. People did traverse it. It was the only way to get to Marston Keys across land, although any sane person took a ship. It was rumored to have a hundred hidden catacombs, even the remains of a city buried in a single week by a catastrophic sandstorm. He sighed. He really didn’t need this today. He had barely six days until Kamir would be forced to show himself, and he needed everything ready. The Rajpuran Imperial Guard weren’t falling into line as easily as he had hoped, saying they would only take orders from the true emir, and the assembly members he had spoken to said that the line of succession should only run downwards, meaning one of his two sons. And both Iskar and Damatrious were next to useless. Iskar cared for nothing except that his wine goblet was kept full and he had enough whores to fill his bed. Damatrious was a soldier, but he often dared to challenge what Gabar mandated, and he couldn’t have that. He would make him a general or something to keep him busy. Stir up a war.

And he’d heard rumors that the Anti-Shifter Alliance was gaining popularity because Kamir hadn’t shown his face.

Gabar was tempted to tell the slave-master the envoy could spend the night cooling his heels in one of the cells, but as he was getting nowhere and could use a useless diversion, he granted his assent for him to enter. He could always get rid of him when he was bored.

Except he wasn’t a he .

Gabar stared open-mouthed at the vision in front of him. She was barely clothed in silks. Gold chains ran from her left ear to her throat, to dip between her breasts and wrap around her waist. The chains were adorned with gems. What he knew to be real sapphires, rubies, and emeralds littered the chain. Then his gaze dropped, and his body stirred. The chain continued down until it stopped over the juncture between her thighs, and a brilliant diamond sparkled in the exact place her cunt was hidden.

Gabar wanted nothing more than to rip it away and see what other secrets the silks were hiding. She bowed low, almost a curtsy, and bells tinkled from under the silks. She was breathtaking. “I am Elainore. Daughter of the Sand. I bid you greetings.”

Gabar jumped to his feet so quickly he nearly tumbled, but he hastened to cover his clumsiness, and took the hand that was offered. “I’m delighted to meet you. I am Lord Gabar Anslar, Acting Emir of Rajpur.” Or at least in Kamir’s absence.

Soon to be the true emir, if he had anything to do with it.

She allowed him to take her hand, and he clung on far too long, but he was distracted by the feeling of peace that bathed him. He’d been frantic since both Kamir and the slave had escaped, and it was utterly glorious to have all his worries fade away.

“You are too kind,” she murmured and the loss of her hand as she drew it back was like a knife to his gut. He realized belatedly that she had sat and sank into his chair.

“How can I help you?” In the back of his mind, he shied away from the word. Help? He had never helped anyone that didn’t help him, and he knew nothing of this woman except her beauty.

And there were many beautiful women, and all could be bought. He needed to get himself together and remember who he was.

“I am hoping we can help each other.” Her voice was as musical as the bells that tinkled when she moved, and as discreetly as he could, Gabar tried to move to give his pants a little more room.

“What—” Gabar coughed to clear his throat. “How can we help each other?”

She dipped her head and Gabar felt the loss of her gaze. Her eyes were blue, but a beautiful cerulean, more magnificent than any sky or sea. They were framed by long golden lashes that matched her hair. Thick tresses hung in complicated twists, adorned with the same bells that made such perfect music that his body strained even more.

“My people come to petition for land. You have a desert area to your west that is inhospitable to your people, as there is no water readily available.”

The fog of lust seemed to clear a little as she mentioned land, and the wanton fingers of greed wrapped him up in a familiar cloak. He let his gaze run over her body, and wished his hands could do the same, preferably while she was trapped underneath him. “We have plans to irrigate the land.” Ridiculously expensive plans that had never come to fruition, but she didn’t know that.

“I would never expect, nor would my people, for you to gift the land. I am sure you would find it in your heart to do so, but my people would never accept charity, simply a fair exchange.”

Gabar had to hand it to her. She’d basically called him generous and charitable—which was so laughable as to be ridiculous—and at the same time blamed her own people for refusing an offer he would never make in the first place.

“Exchange?” What did they have? He had plenty of coin.

“I have been sent because I am a beast-master.”

Gabar frowned. A beast-master? He had plenty of grooms.

“I don’t mean beasts of burden,” she said slowly, and a prickle of something entirely different from lust ran down his spine.

“Exactly what do you mean?” He leaned forward as he strained to hear her answer.

“I mean, I can control the beasts that live inside of men. The ones that they are able to change into.”

His heart picked up even more. “Control?”

She inclined her head. “I understand, for example, that Cadmeera has ridiculous rules. That a king can only ascend when he proves his true mate can shift into a beast. A beast-master has no need for such restrictions.” She looked him square in the eye. “I can bring forth any beast that shares the body of a man, and when I do, I have complete control over it…or should I say, those that are commanding me will have complete control over it.”

Gabar put a hand on his chest as if to contain his heart that was beating so hard it threatened to escape. “Any beast?” Because dragons were mythical creatures with magic of their own.

“Any beast, even mythical ones,” she confirmed, “and if we came to an arrangement, then whoever controlled me would control the beast.”

He sat back because his heart was pounding so hard it hurt. If he controlled Kamir and his dragon, then he controlled the imperial guard, and likewise the people. He wouldn’t need to bother with his useless sons. Kamir would simply be a figurehead, and the real power would be in his hands. And perhaps, slowly, the forces and the people would get used to him, so if he ever wanted a complete transition of power, it would be accepted. “I’m sure you wouldn’t expect me to simply take the word of a stranger, beautiful though you may be,” he said with a smile that generally got results.

“Did you know your slave-master has a hidden wolf?”

Gabar blinked in astonishment. Ibrahim? A wolf-shifter? That was impossible.

“He is unaware of it, but I felt it as soon as we met.”

“I—” But he pressed his lips together. That was unbelievable, but then rumors told of the Cadmeeran consort being unaware he had a wolf until he met the king. She sat still, waiting, as if daring him to ask.

“Prove it,” he said softly, and got up and pulled the cord to summon a slave. Ibrahim himself answered, which told him that the slave-master was waiting outside to satisfy his own curiosity.

Ibrahim entered and bowed low. “How may I serve you, my lord?”

Gabar glanced at Elainore and she stood, extending her hand to the slave as if she were a noble lady. Ibrahim didn’t hesitate to take it, but as he began to bow, she clasped his fingers tight. Ibrahim jerked and tried to straighten, but she kept hold and murmured words Gabar couldn’t hear.

Ibrahim gasped and bent over, and she stepped back. His slave-master stumbled and fell to his knees, a cry working from his throat. Gabar watched in utter fascination as Ibrahim fell forward onto his hands, fur sprouting from his bare arms. His face elongated and changed. Gabar could hear the sickening sound of bones breaking as his shape changed. He opened his mouth as if to utter another cry and bloodied fangs erupted.

But then Elainore uttered more words and Ibrahim froze. His body shook, agony twisted his features.

“He is between shift,” Elainore stated. “If he holds this change, as I have commanded him to do, his body will break apart. As it is, every muscle, every nerve screams in agony. He has a beast’s heart, which is strong, but not even he can withstand this sort of pain.”

“How long?” Gabar whispered in a kind of detached fascination.

She shrugged. “Long enough that if you want him to live, he won’t ever want to repeat this and will do whatever is necessary to make sure of that.” She glanced over at Gabar. “I can also command him to take his own life.”

Gabar’s mouth gaped. Ibrahim was one of the most obsequious individuals he knew, but that was simply born of self-interest. He had power in his own small world and would do whatever it took to retain that. He would not willingly take his life.

“Show me,” he commanded.

She waved a hand and Ibrahim’s transformation into a wolf was complete, but he lay there trembling, shaking, bloody saliva dripping from where his fangs had broken through his gums. “Get to your feet and extend your claws,” she ordered, and despite a whimper, claws stretched from the pads on his paws as he struggled to his feet. “Now slit your own throat and make sure it’s slow.”

Gabar watched in awe as the wolf’s right paw lifted shakily to his throat.

“You have to dig deep to get through the fur,” she said, almost as an afterthought.

Blood bloomed from the first puncture mark, but Ibrahim obeyed, slicing his claw through the fur until blood spurted from the wolf’s throat. Ibrahim fell to the ground before he’d even sliced all the way, his legs giving out. Finally, his paw lay limp as he gasped for air. His brown eyes clouded over and with a last shuddering breath, he lay still in a pool of his own blood, and shifted back to human.

Gabar met Elainore’s satisfied smile. “But he is still only a wolf. How do I know you can replicate that with a mythical creature?”

“You don’t, I suppose, until I prove it. But I also wouldn’t expect you to grant me the land until I do.”

And he only had six days.

“If we cannot transport water, how can you?”

She smiled. “We have a team of oxen and carts that can bring us the water we need, sourced from whatever river you give us permission to use.”

He laughed to himself. The Shoitan River passed through the sewers before it drained. It was completely undrinkable, and as such, useless to the city for anything other than dumping waste. Her people could wrestle with that.

He would gift them drinking water to keep her happy until Gabar no longer had need of her. It was perfect. “Let me call slaves to dispose of the mess on the floor and we can move into my private sitting room. I will summon refreshments.”

“You are too kind, my lord,” Elainore murmured.

He kept his face straight. If she only knew.